gave way to a quick rush of colour, her eyes
widened like a frightened child's, and two tears rose and rolled slowly
down her face.

"Oh, why wasn't I told? Is he married? Has he children? What does it
matter whose fault it was?" she cried, her questions pouring out
disconnectedly on a wave of anger and compassion.

"It warn't his fault.... The cards are too close.... It'll happen
again.... He's got three kids at home," broke from the operatives; and
suddenly a voice exclaimed "Here's his wife now," and the crowd divided
to make way for Mrs. Dillon, who, passing through the farther end of the
room, had been waylaid and dragged toward the group.

She hung back, shrinking from the murderous machine, which she beheld
for the first time since her husband's accident; then she saw Amherst,
guessed the identity of the lady at his side, and flushed up to her
haggard forehead. Mrs. Dillon had been good-looking in her earlier
youth, and sufficient prettiness lingered in her hollow-cheeked face to
show how much more had been sacrificed to sickness and unwholesome toil.

"Oh, ma'am, ma'am, it warn't Jim's fault--there ain't a steadier man
living. The cards is too crowded," she sobbed out.

Some of the other women began to cry: a wave of sympathy ran through
the circle, and Mrs. Westmore moved forward with an answering
exclamation. "You poor creature...you poor creature...." She opened her
arms to Mrs. Dillon, and the scrubber's sobs were buried on her
employer's breast.

"I will go to the hospital--I will come and see you--I will see that
everything is done," Bessy reiterated. "But why are you here? How is it
that you have had to leave your children?" She freed herself to turn a
reproachful glance on Amherst. "You don't mean to tell me that, at such
a time, you keep the poor woman at work?"

"Mrs. Dillon has not been working here lately," Amherst answered. "The
manager took her back to-day at her own request, that she might earn
something while her husband was in hospital."

Mrs. Westmore's eyes shone indignantly. "Earn something? But surely----"

She met a silencing look from Mr. Tredegar, who had stepped between Mrs.
Dillon and herself.

"My dear child, no one doubts--none of these good people doubt--that you
will look into the case, and do all you can to alleviate it; but let me
suggest that this is hardly the place----"

She turned from him with an appealing glance at Amherst.

"I think," the latter said, as their