ping at that time in the morning. She sniffed the
chilling air and was sure she caught some lingering perfume from Mrs.
Vanderpool's gown. She had brought this rich and rare-apparelled lady up
here yesterday, because it was more private, and here she had poured
forth her needs. She had talked long and in deadly earnest. She had not
spoken of the endowment for which she had hoped so desperately during a
quarter of a century--no, only for the five thousand dollars to buy the
long needed new land. It was so little--so little beside what this woman
squandered--

The insistent knocking was repeated louder than before.

"Sakes alive," cried Miss Smith, throwing a shawl about her and leaning
out the window. "Who is it, and what do you want?"

"Please, ma'am. I've come to school," answered a tall black boy with a
bundle.

"Well, why don't you go to the office?" Then she saw his face and
hesitated. She felt again the old motherly instinct to be the first to
welcome the new pupil; a luxury which, in later years, the endless push
of details had denied her.

"Wait!" she cried shortly, and began to dress.

A new boy, she mused. Yes, every day they straggled in; every day came
the call for more, more--this great, growing thirst to know--to do--to
be. And yet that woman had sat right here, aloof, imperturbable,
listening only courteously. When Miss Smith finished, she had paused
and, flicking her glove,--

"My dear Miss Smith," she said softly, with a tone that just escaped a
drawl--"My dear Miss Smith, your work is interesting and your
faith--marvellous; but, frankly, I cannot make myself believe in it. You
are trying to treat these funny little monkeys just as you would your
own children--or even mine. It's quite heroic, of course, but it's sheer
madness, and I do not feel I ought to encourage it. I would not mind a
thousand or so to train a good cook for the Cresswells, or a clean and
faithful maid for myself--for Helene has faults--or indeed deft and
tractable laboring-folk for any one; but I'm quite through trying to
turn natural servants into masters of me and mine. I--hope I'm not too
blunt; I hope I make myself clear. You know, statistics show--"

"Drat statistics!" Miss Smith had flashed impatiently. "These are
folks."

Mrs. Vanderpool smiled indulgently. "To be sure," she murmured, "but
what sort of folks?"

"God's sort."

"Oh, well--"

But Miss Smith had the bit in her teeth and could not have stopped. She