u really think my father would risk the lives of his employees, just
to make a little more money for himself?"

He answered, almost brusquely: "I don't mean to judge your father.
People take their views of life from the atmosphere in which they live.
You appreciate that. I, of course, concede your father's point of view.
I fully understand it. I--wish it were possible for you to do as much
for mine."

She looked at him fixedly a moment, said, "I'm sorry you think this
necessary," and turned away to the door. But once again his voice
arrested her.

"Miss Heth!... You feel an interest in the Settlement. You've felt a
wish to help in the work--to lend a hand in some way to those less
fortunate than yourself. You--you haven't as yet decided just what you
want to do...."

She had paused at the door, half-turning; their eyes met once more. And
now the whole look of the strange young man seemed to change, and he
said with sudden gentleness:

"Why don't you go to the Works some day?"

But it was late in the day to seek to improve matters with looks and
tones, with efforts to put responsibilities upon her. Cally answered as
she had answered him once before: only it was a mark of some change in
her--toward him, perhaps toward life itself--that she spoke with a
dignity which had never been hers last year.

"I don't think I need do that to learn that my father isn't a homicide."

* * * * *

For the second time also, Cally went away from the Dabney House without
the company of her staunch little mother: who would remain in this place
till among the last, contending among the best people for the thing she
held dearest in the world.

Cally, however, was well looked after by Mr. Avery, who welcomed her
upon the threshold of the sewing-class room (if that is what it was),
removing himself firmly from the Kemper. His proposal was to continue
the tour of the premises, but she replied that she found Settlementing
dreadfully boring, and was of a mind to steal away for home. The
disappointed pink one then proposed to accompany her, and pay a little
call, as he put it. However, she professed an incurable dulness after
her slumming, and countered with an offer to set him down at his club,
if he liked.

It was so arranged, with the gallant, and also with mamma. William
Banks, detached by a nod from the procession of waiting vehicles over
the dingy street, wheeled up to the entrance; halted with a whi