96*
 
 Mr. Grosvenot 's Daughter. Page 93.
 
 Mr. Grosvenor s Daughter. 
 
 A STORY OF CITY LIFE. 
 
 BY 
 
 JULIA MAcNAIR WRIGHT. 
 
 " GriYe her of the frait oi 'inti? l^ands, and let her ov/n 
 Works praise her in the gates." 
 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY, 
 
 150 NASSAU STREET, NEW YORK.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 AMERICAN TRACT SOCIETY. 
 1 593-
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 THERE was a busy idler once who spent 
 much time in looking at various objects through 
 a microscope. One day he had placed in a glass 
 cup a little world of pond water, and in it, 
 moored to a twig, he saw what seemed to be a 
 pair of wheel-like organs continually revolving. 
 As he looked steadfastly, he perceived that the 
 wheels were not really turning, but were made 
 up of fine hairs, or cilia, set in a close circle, and, 
 moved by a compact and vigorous muscular 
 system, lashed the water with such velocity 
 that they seemed to be whirling like the fly- 
 wheels of an engine in operation. This motion 
 of the cilia whipping the water occasioned a 
 vortex determined towards the wheels, and just 
 back of these wheels lay a gizzard or digestive 
 organ, which was constantly filled and fed by 
 the living atoms swept into it by the revolving 
 cilia ; for this that the busy idler was observing 
 was neither more nor less than a rotifer, an 
 animal which is all stomach, and tentacles for 
 filling that stomach. 
 
 There was another busy idler who, for want 
 of a better occupation, went up in a balloon and, 
 
 2138879
 
 4 PREFACE. 
 
 hanging high in air, saw pathways and high- 
 ways meeting and intersecting where the city, 
 a great rotifer, lay across the roads, whirling 
 its tentacles of factories and forges, markets 
 and exchanges, andby their force creating a 
 current which determined the varied flotsam 
 and jetsam of human life into its open maw. 
 
 The rotifer whipping the water deflects from 
 their course and captures the living creatures 
 idly cruising about for pleasure, or hungrily 
 seeking food, or curiously gratifying inquisitive- 
 ness. The rotifer of civilization, the city, drags 
 into itself the enjoyment-loving, the wealth- 
 seeker, the curious, the hunger-bitten, and holds 
 them and will not let them go. 
 
 From these myriads drawn into the city and 
 held there inexorably, how often and how long 
 rises a bitter cry for a better adjustment of bur- 
 dens, for a broadening and ameliorating and 
 uplifting of their lives ! What shall be done for 
 all these ? Once, in the ancient days, there was 
 a glorious and golden city in a plain. " And the 
 Lord said, Because the cry of 'Sodom is great, 
 I will go down now and see whether they have 
 done altogether according to the cry of it, and 
 if not I will know." 
 
 THE AUTHOR.
 
 OONTRNTS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 The Daughter of Dives -------------------------------- PAGE 7 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 "The Rich Man also Died" ____ ......... ------------------- 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 The Other Half .......... ................................ 38 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 Purple and Fine Linen ---------------------- .. _____________ 53 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 At the Gate ....... ______ ...... _____ ........................ 68 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Crumbs ---------------------------------------------------- 83 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 "Son, Remember" ----------------------------------------- 99 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Thou Receivedst Good Things ------------------------------ 121 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 Likewise Lazarus Evil Things --------------------------- ... 135 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Harvests and Harvests ___________________________ . ______ . __ 150 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 The Fountain of Sympathy --------------------------------- 165
 
 6 CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Gathered in Sorrow's Garden .................. 182 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 On the Altar of Sacrifice . ._ . 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 The Return to the Classes 211 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 Yearning for the Masses .... 227 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 True Yoke-Fellows 244 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 Help Those Women 259 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 The Mystery of It 270 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 The Settlement 283 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A Test Applied 300 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 The Fair Fabric - 317 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 Through Honor and Dishonor 332 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 Widening Plans 346 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "At Last I Tell You the Truth " 359 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 Arise and Let us Build 374
 
 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. 
 
 "She was one of those who by fortune's boon 
 Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon 
 
 In her mouth, not a wooden ladle ; 
 To speak according to poets' wont, 
 Plutus as sponsor stood at her font, 
 And Midas rocked the cradle." 
 
 IN the city the daughters of Dives and the 
 daughters of Dives' poor brethren live near to- 
 gether. The daughter of Dives has her windows 
 open upon the broad and stately thoroughfares 
 and avenues, the daughter of the poor shelters 
 in the little back courts, alleys, and no-thorough- 
 fares. The daughter of Dives finds her wants 
 supplied by the labor of her impoverished sister 
 in Adam, and she in turn secures her bread and 
 her bed by providing for the wants or catering 
 to the whims of the daughter of Dives. Wheth- 
 er these realize it or not, whether they are 
 friends or enemies or mutually ignorant of
 
 8 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 each other altogether, whether the consumer 
 never thinks of the producer, or the producer 
 ignores the consumer, there is between them 
 a continuous interchange of the offices of civil- 
 ized life, and the one cannot exist without the 
 other. Neither of them has ever appreciated 
 the inner heart of this vital truth: neither of 
 them has ever fulfilled her office and errand to 
 the other as it has been assigned her by God. 
 Sometimes a little light of realization, a little 
 beautiful effort, a little vigorous sympathetic 
 common-sense action, has been secured ; but the 
 real work each for each, the real sympathy and 
 fellowship, has not yet begun. When this is well 
 inaugurated, when it reaches its true greatness, 
 it will usher in the social golden age. 
 
 We cannot consider in this book the poor 
 man's daughter only, for the daughter of Dives 
 is there close beside her. We must write of the 
 two together, and let us begin, with due 
 courtesy, with the daughter of Dives, for social 
 law sets her in the precedence, and upon her 
 also is laid the heaviest responsibility for what 
 has gone wrong in the social relations of the 
 
 daughters of a common humanity. 
 
 ***** 
 
 The daughter of Dives appears upon the 
 scene as Miss Grosvenor, ready for a full-dress 
 promenade. She is two feet high. Her eyes are
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. 9 
 
 blue, innocent, laughter-filled, her complexion 
 true apple-blossom, her hair soft golden rings. 
 
 " Just come from heaven, its gates have shed 
 Their sunshine on the baby's head." 
 
 Miss Grosvenor wears a blue velvet cloak and 
 a bonnet to match, both affluent in Brussels lace. 
 As this stage of her earthly experience Miss 
 Grosvenor does not know whether the roses on 
 the carpet are real flowers or fabrications ; she 
 supposes that the ceiling with its chandelier is 
 part of the sun-lit firmament; the centre-table 
 affords her a magnificent pavilion, and she 
 walks among the drawing-room chairs as one 
 walks in mighty groves. Small as she is, Miss 
 Grosvenor is the central sun of this city estab- 
 lishment, splendid with suddenly made wealth. 
 Around her, as satellites, revolve the various 
 members of the family, her father like Saturn in 
 a triple belt of business cares ; her mother, Jupi- 
 ter-wise drawing dress-makers, milliners, and 
 shop-keepers as moons in her train ; Uncle Josiah 
 as a distant Neptune or Uranus watching apart ; 
 the French bonne taking her time from Miss Gros- 
 venor, as the earth from the sun. The house- 
 keeper might have been a moon, and all the 
 servants inconsiderable asteroids, in this system 
 of which Miss Grosvenor was the centre. The 
 French bonne, by the way, was likely to give
 
 io MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Miss Grosvenor some serious mispronunciations 
 both of French and English and some very 
 doubtful ideas as to religion and morals. 
 
 This resplendent city home was not however 
 a fragment of the Milky Way, a solar-system 
 moving carefully as God wills ; it was a " shining 
 constellation lying apart," a portion of a social 
 and monetary system in which the idea of God in 
 Christ is growing daily dim. The last spark of 
 the former simple, plain, God-fearing, honest, 
 old-time family habits expired when papa and 
 mamma Grosvenor named their heiress Deb- 
 orah, after her paternal grandmother. This 
 name the father, reminiscent of his boyhood, 
 insisted upon ; the family agreed that the 
 cognomen was hideous, but its bearer, being a 
 beautiful, imperious little heiress, reigned thence- 
 forth as Miss Grosvenor. 
 
 When Miss Grosvenor first began to manage 
 her own hands and feet and have her own opin- 
 ions, her sweet generous nature inclined her to- 
 wards other children, and those whose poverty 
 made them more forlorn won her kindest smiles ; 
 she would interrupt her dress parade in the 
 avenue or park to take the hand of some shabby 
 youngster, offer her box of candy to be shared, 
 or endow with her best doll some doll-less child. 
 The bonne, not daring to slap Miss Grosvenor for 
 such early Christian manifestations, slapped the
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. II 
 
 recipients of her bounty, and drove them away 
 with opprobrious epithets, thus impressing Miss 
 Grosvenor with the great fact that the person 
 with money and the person without money be- 
 long to different orders of creation and have 
 nothing in common. 
 
 Miss Grosvenor was taught to bestow her 
 sweetest smiles and most gracious little words 
 and gestures upon the people who wore good 
 clothes. After a training of some length in this 
 direction Miss Grosvenor ceased to lighten by a 
 smile the woes of poverty, and instead turned 
 up her dear little nose at the miserable and 
 drew away her short skirts as she passed them 
 with lofty head. 
 
 Uncle Josiah, from his distant sphere in the 
 family system, averred that being always wor- 
 shipped, waited upon, and indulged, being always 
 a receiver and never a giver, Miss Grosvenor 
 would become hard, narrow, selfish, vain. Uncle 
 Josiah mourned when he saw the little white 
 soul of his niece becoming clouded with pride 
 and self-will. Uncle Josiah saw this but seldom, 
 as he lived in a distant village, having all his 
 life preferred a holy peace to the strife after 
 gold. Uncle Josiah emphatically loved not the 
 world, devoting himself to serving God among 
 his fellows and growing in grace with what 
 celerity he might. Uncle Josiah was odd and
 
 12 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 old-fashioned, Dives said, but said it always with 
 a thought of reverence and a self-condemning 
 admiration and envy of that serene and conse- 
 crated life hidden in Christ with God, and so 
 contented now and so safe for by-and-by. The 
 parental Dives no doubt wished his child to 
 have Uncle Josiah 's approval, and if at any 
 serious hour the question had been put, did he 
 wish Deborah to be like Josiah or himself, he 
 would have sighed and admitted that Josiah had 
 chosen a good part, not to be taken away, because 
 in all things he had set God and his grace first. 
 
 Now and then papa or mamma found time 
 to teach their child a prayer before she went to 
 bed ; but generally these parents were too busy 
 with money - getting and money - spending to 
 remember the spiritual needs of the little one, 
 so she went prayerless to bed or the bonne taught 
 her an Ave. 
 
 When Miss Grosvenor was five years old she 
 was sent, at the pastor's suggestion, to the in- 
 fant class in the Sunday-school. She went in a 
 gown loaded with embroidery ; she wore French 
 boots, kid gloves, and a hat so covered with 
 plumes that it looked like Birnam wood moving 
 upon Dunsinane. Before she left home she 
 was informed that she was the loveliest and 
 best dressed child in the city. She naturally 
 spent the class hour in meditating upon her
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. 13 
 
 own appearance and comparing notes on clothes 
 with the other children. 
 
 Christianity as represented in a wealthy 
 church is by no means at a discount in the nine- 
 teenth century. Mr. and Mrs. Grosvenor had 
 handed in their church letters when they came 
 to the city ; they purchased a commodious pew 
 and were usually present at the morning service 
 at church. The dinner on Sunday was the most 
 elaborate one of the week; guests were fre- 
 quently present. Miss Grosvenor sometimes 
 went to church, always shared the dinner, was 
 petted by the guests, and in the afternoon went 
 to drive with her papa, who was too busy to go 
 out with her on secular days. 
 
 When Miss Grosvenor was seven years of 
 age she began to go to school. Sometimes she 
 went to a kindergarten, sometimes to the Sisters 
 at the convent, sometimes to a " Fashionable 
 School for Young Ladies ;" sometimes she did 
 not go at all. At thirteen her ignorance would 
 have been phenomenal had it not been shared 
 by many of her young friends who were simi- 
 larly brought up. But meantime at six years of 
 age she had been sent to a dancing-school, and 
 seven years of attendance, twice a week, had 
 enabled her to dance charmingly, and her mam- 
 ma's friends declared that she had "angelic 
 manners." Possibly some passing angel, know-
 
 14 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing of " angelic manners " from long citizenship 
 in heaven, may have dissented from the verdict 
 of the family friends. 
 
 " For what are you training your child," 
 asked Uncle Josiah, "for this world or for 
 heaven ?" 
 
 " I do n't see why you speak as if she could 
 not be trained for both," said mamma Grosve- 
 nor plaintively. 
 
 " I see no training for heaven !" said Uncle 
 Josiah. " She knows the Lord's Prayer and the 
 Ten Commandments, but almost nothing else 
 from the Bible. She does not know whether 
 Genesis is in the front or the back part of the 
 book." 
 
 Mamma Grosvenor discovered that at thir- 
 teen years of age her daughter was growing 
 up towards young lady-hood, and there was a 
 change of regime. The bonne was dismissed, a 
 governess was engaged, and Miss Grosvenor 
 was obliged to practise two hours daily and was 
 drilled at times in French and German. She 
 also read what novels she chose, making her 
 own selection. Her childish toys were sent to 
 the garret, Miss Grosvenor learned to play cards, 
 her hair was done up higher, and her gowns 
 were lengthened. 
 
 And here there was a change in her sur- 
 roundings, for mamma Grosvenor died, and
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. 1 5 
 
 when Miss Grosvenor was fifteen she had a new 
 mamma, who prided herself upon sedulously 
 completing the work of the first mamma upon 
 the same lines. Under her supervision Miss 
 Grosvenor spent all her time in amusing herself 
 or in doing something to accomplish herself. 
 
 Uncle Josiah declared that his niece's train- 
 ing was securing its legitimate result, and ma- 
 king of her a vain, frivolous, useless woman ; he 
 said she was unfitted to meet the dangers and 
 trials of life ; she had been left without religious 
 principles or moral purposes ; she had no knowl- 
 edge of her Bible, no communion with God. 
 But Miss Grosvenor herself had no idea that 
 she lacked anything, and would have asked 
 calmly, " What is there worth having which 
 money cannot buy?" 
 
 When Miss Grosvenor had completed her 
 seventeenth year she entered society as a full- 
 blown young lady. In the dizzy maze and splen- 
 dor of her first season in society Miss Grosvenor 
 took part in balls, dinners, card-parties, suppers, 
 concerts, operas, theatres, until between late 
 hours, continuous dancing and visiting, she 
 would have died of fatigue if she had not slept 
 each day until noon, and on Sabbath stayed in 
 bed all day until it was time to rise and receive 
 her young gentlemen callers. 
 
 But right in the midst of these festivities
 
 1 6 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 two, the gayest of her young friends, died. 
 These deaths caused a sudden lull in the win- 
 ter's dissipation. A revivalist was preaching 
 in the city ; religious interest pervaded the 
 churches. A large number of young people, 
 Miss Grosvenor among them, concluded that 
 they had better join the church. Miss Grosve- 
 nor had supposed that her church officials would 
 lay down some rules for her conduct, expound 
 to her her duties, give her some warnings, de- 
 mand promises, or inquire into her experiences. 
 She was rather in terror, for she found her mind 
 a blank as to religious knowledge or holy pur- 
 poses. But she was only welcomed and shaken 
 hands with and called a child of the church, 
 and had it taken for granted that as her parents 
 were church members they had given her all 
 due instructions. 
 
 After that there was a little seeming piety. 
 Miss Grosvenor taught in Sunday-school for a 
 whole month and attended prayer-meeting with 
 more or less regularity until warm weather 
 arrived. Then she went to Saratoga, the White 
 Mountains, Europe ; and who can be religious 
 while travelling ? Not Miss Grosvenor. 
 
 People said that Dives' daughter was hard- 
 hearted ; she made several engagements of mar- 
 riage and broke them at her pleasure. She 
 seemed cold as an icicle and careless as a butter-
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. I/ 
 
 fly. But sometimes, when she heard minor mu- 
 sic or saw a funeral, she wished that she had 
 been brought up in a different way and were 
 not so afraid to die. Once an old minister asked 
 her about her future hope. She said she " sup- 
 posed of course she should get to heaven." 
 
 "Would you enjoy heaven if you reached 
 there?" he asked. " Might you not find yourself 
 an alien in heaven ? The only door of heaven 
 is the crucified Christ ; the language of heaven 
 has for its key-note ' Not unto us, but unto thy 
 name be glory.' God is our Father because we 
 are found in Christ, his Son; the garments of 
 heaven are washed white in the blood of the 
 Lamb, and there the ' happy dear-bought peo- 
 ple ' follow the Lamb whithersoever he goeth." 
 
 When Miss Grosvenor heard all this she 
 looked into her heart and found nothing in 
 harmony with heaven. Then she was greatly 
 discontented. 
 
 She found around her many who mocked at 
 the " Calvary myth," and her present mother 
 made no pretence of caring for religious matters. 
 With her father, Dives, she was but slightly 
 acquainted ; she thought of Uncle Josiah and 
 wondered if his life had ever been such an arid 
 desert as she found hers in its spring. 
 
 Lookers-on in Venice thought that this daugh- 
 ter of Dives should be the happiest of women. 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor'e Daughter. 2
 
 1 8 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 She had youth, health, beauty, leisure, riches; 
 and yet she lived in a supreme discontent, for 
 " man doth not live by bread alone," and " a 
 man's life consisteth not in the abundance of 
 things that he possesseth." Her Uncle Josiah 
 remarked Miss Grosvenor's weariness and dis- 
 content, and said she was born for something 
 better than the trivial worldly life ; it was God 
 who was stirring up the young eagle's nest to 
 dislodge her and force her to take flight nearer 
 to the sun. 
 
 When Miss Grosvenor was out driving or 
 riding on horseback with a groom attending 
 her, or was reclining lazily in her carriage, 
 while her mother spent hours in the stores look- 
 ing at new styles, the tired harassed daughters 
 of Lazarus sometimes saw her and envied her. 
 How happy she ought to be ! What was there 
 that she lacked ? Why that droop at the corners 
 of the pretty mouth ? As for Miss Grosvenor, 
 she never noticed these daughters of Lazarus or 
 thought of them at all ; it never occurred to her 
 that their faces were pale, their eyes heavy, their 
 manner bold or discouraged, their hands work- 
 worn, their whole situation depressing and pain- 
 ful. By her nature she had been sympathetic, 
 helpful, loving, ready to make common cause 
 with all. In fact nearly all young children seem 
 to have inherited the inspirations of the early
 
 THE DAUGHTER OF DIVES. 19 
 
 church. But in Miss Deborah Grosvenor these 
 original humanities had been deeply buried 
 under a selfish training ; she had forgotten that 
 the world was made for any one but the daugh- 
 ter of Dives, and yet the daughter of Dives did 
 not enjoy her world ! Finally she was twenty- 
 one, and began to wonder why she had ever 
 been born, and to think that it was all a great 
 mistake. 
 
 One bank holiday when Dives, for a wonder, 
 had withdrawn from his business cares for an 
 hour or two, he went out to ride in the great 
 barouche with his wife and daughter. At a 
 turn in the avenue two of the huge dray horses 
 wherewith Lazarus does part of his work for 
 Dives, in a frantic runaway bore down upon 
 the slenderly built thoroughbreds of Dives. The 
 coachman and footman on their high seat saw 
 the danger and sprang to save themselves. 
 Why should they risk anything for Dives who 
 was only their employer ? One of them reached 
 the ground with a broken arm, the other with a 
 broken neck. The three who were in the 
 barouche did not see what was coming upon 
 them ; there was a rush, a crash, an overset, the 
 wild cry of human and brute agony. The next 
 day black silk and crape hung from the door of 
 Dives, for Mrs. Grosvenor had only survived the 
 accident for an hour. The papers said that
 
 20 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Miss Grosvenor was uninjured and that Mr. 
 Grosvenor had received a hurt of a very serious 
 character. Thus in an instant Deborah Grosve- 
 nor, who had been cradled all her life in down 
 and roses, found herself standing between the 
 living and the dead in her dismayed household.
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 21 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 
 
 " But who shall so forecast the years 
 And find in loss a gain to match, 
 Or reach a hand through time to catch 
 The far-off interest of tears ?" 
 
 IN the Grosvenor household there was a 
 most dignified housekeeper who wore a black 
 silk gown, and whose function it was to keep the 
 establishment always in the show order of a 
 brilliant social life. She had never been called 
 upon to administer upon sickness and death, 
 and before the horror of these she sank helpless. 
 There was also a white-headed Scotch dame, 
 Nurse Jamieson, of sixty, who had long lived 
 with Grandmother Deborah, and at his mother's 
 death Dives had brought Nurse Jamieson to his 
 home ; and, as Miss Grosvenor was then fifteen 
 and too old for a nurse, the dame had enjoyed 
 a cosey little room in the attic and a leisure bro- 
 ken only by the care of the family mending. 
 When Dives was carried in, crushed and help- 
 less, Nurse Jamieson took her place by his bed- 
 side and telegraphed for Uncle Josiah. Then, 
 as if aroused at last into life by the call of ne- 
 cessity, Miss Grosvenor took the reins of the
 
 22 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 household, sent for doctors aud undertakers, 
 directed the servants, ordered the mourning, and 
 when Nurse Jamieson reminded her that the 
 footman was in the hospital and the coachman 
 was dead, and both had families she sent a 
 fifty-dollar bill to each of the families, for so far 
 as she knew money answereth all things. Uncle 
 Josiah had expected to find a pale girl in hyster- 
 ics in a darkened room ; instead, he met a calm, 
 emotionless, self-assured woman, draped in the 
 most rigid black, who in the shaded library was 
 giving audience to the undertaker and the fam- 
 ily doctor. She gave her hand to Uncle Josiah, 
 who kissed her cheek. 
 
 "I am glad you are come," she said; "we 
 waited for you to announce the hour of the 
 funeral; and I wanted your advice whether to 
 telegraph to Dr. Grace to consult with Dr. Mar- 
 tin, in father's case. We have already sent to 
 Boston for Dr. Grant. Is Dr. Grace in your 
 opinion a finer surgeon ?" 
 
 But when he went to his brother Dives, Dives 
 said to him, " Josiah, I am not to be deceived. 
 Deborah is telegraphing for all the surgeons in 
 the country, and wants to have one from Lon- 
 don. She has been brought up to think that 
 money can do anything, and supposes now that 
 it can save me. I know that my case is hopeless. 
 In a few weeks, at most, I shall go whence I
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 23 
 
 shall not return. God has seen that I have been 
 too busy to remember Him, and this is his way 
 of answering the prayers of our mother, which 
 are yet lying unanswered before his throne he 
 sends me a waiting-time to prepare to meet my 
 God." 
 
 Then the funeral of Mrs. Grosvenor was 
 concluded with great splendor, the house re- 
 lapsed into gloom and order, no one told Miss 
 Grosvenor that her father was taking the down- 
 ward way to death. She believed that he would 
 recover in due season, and now for the first time 
 in her life she had opportunity to get acquainted 
 with him. The crisis in affairs having passed, 
 all the servants having recovered their self-com- 
 mand, there was nothing for Miss Grosvenor but 
 to sink back in her darkened home into her cus- 
 tomary inanition and general disgust. It all 
 seemed more tedious than ever. 
 
 Now also Uncle Josiah had opportunity to 
 get acquainted with his niece, and this the more 
 earnestly because Dives had been stirred to 
 great anxiety and remorse concerning her, and 
 thought how she had been robbed of human in- 
 terests and spiritual heritage, and made by a 
 narrow round of frivolous cares and amusements 
 to centre all her thoughts and wishes upon her- 
 self. Dives, brought into a new clearness of 
 vision by the strong light falling over him from
 
 24 MR. GROSVEXCR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 that eternity which he was nearing, wished to 
 undo this work of his hands. Uncle Josiah, find- 
 ing that his brother was so dissatisfied with what 
 he had done for his daughter, wondered if Deb- 
 orah herself was better suited. There were 
 many hours when the sick man must be left 
 alone to silence and his nurses ; Uncle Josiah 
 had then time to talk with his niece. Hitherto 
 in his short visits Miss Grosvenor had been in 
 such a whirl of gayeties that her uncle had 
 scarcely been able to have an hour with her. 
 He remarked her listless way and the profound 
 melancholy on her face. "You are mourning 
 for Mrs. Grosvenor ?" he said : " her death was 
 terribly sudden and she was very little prepared 
 to meet it." 
 
 " I do n't want you to believe me to be differ- 
 ent from what I am," said Deborah. " I am not 
 thinking about my step-mother. I do n't suppose 
 she and I loved each other, and we were very 
 little together. I fancy that she was not a wo- 
 man to be very fond even of her own children if 
 she had had any. She was just and polite to me, 
 and I was respectful to her. But she was a wo- 
 man without heart, and do you know, I have 
 never yet been able to decide if I have any." 
 
 " You looked so melancholy ; and I saw only 
 that cause, unless your father's state alarms 
 you."
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 2$ 
 
 "Oh father will get well, I am sure! He 
 suffers less each day. When he is recovered we 
 will go to Europe together. As to my looking 
 melancholy, when did you ever see me look 
 happy ? Unless it was long ago when I was too 
 small to understand how little I was to get out 
 of the world." 
 
 "But, niece, any one would say you got a 
 good deal out of the world. You are surrounded 
 with riches." 
 
 " Why do n't you say submerged in them ? 
 Water is a good thing, indispensable ; but a man 
 may be drowned in it. I have been drowned 
 in these riches; I am stifled, overwhelmed by 
 riches. I have grown to hate this glitter and 
 grandeur and do-nothingness. This splendor 
 that other people envy me hampers me and tires 
 me out. I think the poem about Miss Kilman- 
 segg is one I can heartily appreciate at least 
 until it comes to where she marries that detest- 
 able foreign count ; and, who knows ? I may 
 even go as far as that yet in my weariness." 
 
 " Riches have not particularly attracted 
 me" said Uncle Josiah ; " but I am old and 
 grave, and you are young and gay. You sur- 
 prise me." 
 
 " You would not be surprised if you 'd stop to 
 think about it. In this world it is, I suppose, a 
 pleasure to desire something, to want something,
 
 s6 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 perhaps even to work for something. I have 
 had all my desires forestalled ; all my wishes 
 were gratified before they were half realized as 
 wishes. I never found a chance to work for 
 anything. I have been petted and estimated for 
 what I have, not for what I am. I do not know 
 whether or not there is anything in me ; I have 
 never had a chance to find out. Would n't you 
 get sick of life if some one had always stood 
 ready to button your shoes and put on your coat, 
 if you were never allowed to brush your own 
 hair or to be left to your own resources for an 
 hour? I have come to hate my multitude of 
 gowns, having always half a dozen to be forced 
 to choose from for every occasion, and always 
 more got before there is anything wrong with 
 the ones I have, only the people have seen them 
 a time or two. I have read of girls who have 
 had to plan and manage to get a gown, were 
 forced to take care of it and repair it and make 
 it over and respect it as a valuable possession. 
 I should think there would be some pleasure in 
 that." 
 
 " As to the multitude of wasted, idle gowns," 
 said Uncle Josiah, " what seems to me painful 
 about them is, that the price of one is often 
 more than a whole year's living to some other 
 girl ; and while you have gowns to burden you, 
 your sister maidens go perhaps in rags, or are
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 2JT 
 
 cold, suffering for a mere sufficiency of gar- 
 ments." 
 
 "I do n't know anything about that," said 
 Miss Grosvenor. 
 
 "What else do you hate beside the gowns?" 
 asked her uncle. 
 
 " I have hinted it to you already. This hav- 
 ing nothing to do, this being of no value to 
 myself or any one except for the money in my 
 purse, with nothing to do for myself or for any 
 one else. I don't even dress myself, because 
 there is the maid. I live purposeless, as a dead 
 leaf drifting on the wind. Why, uncle, I have 
 envied shop-girls, working-girls, girls I have 
 seen going out to do some daily work for bread. 
 They have something to go and come for ; they 
 look in earnest ; they have a purpose ; they walk 
 quickly along, going they know where, while I 
 sit in the carriage because I am tired of sitting 
 in the house, and the carriage goes where the 
 coachman chooses to drive or where some one 
 tells him to take me. I don't play or sing, be- 
 cause the professionals do it better ; I have read 
 novels until I am sick of make - believe ; the 
 pleasures that were new and amusing when I 
 first entered society have become bores. Some- 
 times I wish I were a laundress or a seamstress, 
 with half a dozen hungry little children to be 
 responsible for and work for and care for and
 
 28 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 to care for me. Who has ever cared much for 
 me ? Father, since he has been sick, looks as if 
 he did sometimes." 
 
 " You are not obliged to live in this way," 
 said Uncle Josiah. " Riches bring responsibili- 
 ties. The world is full of the poor and the 
 suffering to be helped. All your money and all 
 your leisure are trusts to you from God, to be 
 used in his service. Our Master pleased not 
 himself, but went about doing good. Why 
 should not you ?" 
 
 " I don't know what good to do," said Deb- 
 orah. " I should have been cheated and imposed 
 upon on every hand ; the unworthy would have 
 made prey of me, and the worthy I should never 
 have found. My friends would have been sur- 
 prised at me and called me cranky and singular ; 
 and I should have made myself conspicuous." 
 
 "It seems to me," replied her uncle, "that 
 you are regarding entirely the opinions of hu- 
 man beings, and not at all the judgment of 
 God." 
 
 " Perhaps so. That was the way I was 
 brought up. ' What will people think,' ' What 
 will the world say ?' that was measure for me. 
 ' It looks well,' ' It is the fashion,' these were 
 reasons." 
 
 " At twenty-one life is mostly before you ; 
 waste no more years."
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 29 
 
 " If I were poor," sighed Miss Grosvenor, " I 
 might do something. As I am, I shall, I sup- 
 pose, go on as I have. I sit down to a luxurious 
 table to food for which I have no appetite, and 
 when I think at all, I think, ' Perhaps plain food, 
 earned, would be good to eat.' I live like one of 
 my orchids in a hot-house. How would it feel 
 to stand in the bracing air of poverty? I who 
 have never done an hour's work," and she held 
 out a soft small white hand, " feel some days as 
 if work were the only thing worth living for. I 
 think one would respect a dollar that was the 
 result of one's own toil. Why has my father 
 toiled like a galley-slave all his life, that I, his 
 daughter, might be a do-nothing?" 
 
 " Child, you become philosophic," said Uncle 
 Josiah. 
 
 Uncle Josiah returned to his brother's room. 
 Dives was asleep and Nurse Agnes Jamieson was 
 sitting waiting in a deep window of the hall. 
 Uncle Josiah knew her worth, and he sat down 
 beside her to consult with her. 
 
 " I do n't know what to make of Miss Gros- 
 venor," he said. 
 
 " The lassie is her guid gran'mither a' ower 
 again an' she were not swathed an' bun'led up 
 in her riches so she couldna stir heart, han', nor 
 foot," said Agnes. " She has by nature the 
 strong mind an' the firm han' and the true and
 
 30 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tender heart, but a' has been smothered an* 
 buried deep in warldly ways an' vanity and 
 riches. It is na for me to direct the ways of 
 Providence ; but it does seem to me, Maister 
 Josiah, that if instead o' takin' her father, the 
 Lord had clean taken awa' her fortune, an' made 
 a poor woman o' her, she ! d 'a' had a chance to 
 show what she is made o'. Ye ken, Maister Jo- 
 siah, that she is no happy nor content ; there is 
 aye an unsatisfied longin* in her : she feels stri- 
 vin's an' rebellions aboot she kens na what. 
 The florists tell ye, sir, aboot plants bein' root- 
 bound, or pot-bound, so they canna thrive ; Miss 
 Deborah has been root-bound a' her life. She 
 wasna made to find her satisfaction in trifles: 
 she was formed for a wide scope, an' they ha' 
 narrowed her doon to self-servin', an' she canna 
 be content. Gie her a chance, an' ye 'd see her 
 gran'mither ower again !" 
 
 Uncle Josiah wondered if this were true. 
 Did his brother see this ? Nearing death, Dives 
 had deep searchings of heart. He realized that 
 he had spent his strength in vain, and his labor 
 for that which satisfieth not. How very worth- 
 less seemed all those things which he had pur- 
 sued with consuming zeal ; how large and solemn 
 looked eternity ; how few if any sheaves had he 
 to carry with him to the Lord of the harvest ! 
 " Thou fool, thy soul shall be required of thee ;
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 31 
 
 then whose shall be all those things which thou 
 possessedst ?" These words seemed written by 
 a mysterious hand on the walls of his room, and 
 like Belshazzar he was sore afraid. 
 
 Whose should those things be ? His daugh- 
 ter's. And would they make her any better or 
 happier ? He feared not. He realized now that 
 she was not a useful or happy girl, and this 
 great fortune would make her a prey to sharp- 
 ers. He said to his brother, " When I was a boy 
 I read a poem about a girl who had a golden 
 leg ; I wish I knew what it was. I think it 
 meant a great deal." 
 
 " It was Hood's ' Miss Kilmansegg,' " said 
 Uncle Josiah, " and it does mean a great deal. I 
 will bring the book and read it to you." So Un- 
 cle Josiah got the book from the library and 
 slowly read the story of the heiress to Dives. 
 Then he turned a few leaves and read " The Song 
 of the Shirt" and then "The Bridge of Sighs." 
 Then silence fell in the room a while. " Bro- 
 ther," said Uncle Josiah, "was it worth your toil, 
 the slavery of body, brain, and soul, to make of 
 Deborah a Miss Kilmansegg ? ' The Song of 
 the Shirt,' 'The Bridge of Sighs,' tell you of 
 other women and girls who toil and suffer and 
 die unhelped. Why was not your child taught 
 that the very fact of wealth and leisure gave 
 her responsibility towards and for these?"
 
 32 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Dives groaned. 
 
 Later in the day Deborah came into the 
 room and found the book lying on the bed. 
 " Read to me," said Dives. Deborah turned 
 over the pages. Here was a poem new to her. 
 It might be light and pleasing, fit for a sick 
 man's ear " The Lady's Dream." Deborah was 
 a good reader by nature not by education, for 
 she had no true education. Her inner sympa- 
 thies, her deep heart of hearts, came out in her 
 reading. The reading told of a wealth of hid- 
 den emotion and power of which no one knew. 
 She forgot as she read that the poem was very 
 different from what she had expected. She 
 thrilled her father and herself and Uncle Josiah 
 as she read : 
 
 " Alas ! I have walked through life 
 
 Too heedless where I trod ; 
 Nay, helping to trample my fellow-worm 
 
 And fill the burial sod, 
 Forgetting that even a sparrow falls 
 Not unmarked of God. 
 
 " The wounds I might have healed ! 
 
 The human sorrow and smart ! 
 And yet it was never in my soul 
 
 To play so ill a part ; 
 But evil is wrought by want of thought 
 
 As well as want of heart." 
 
 She closed the book. "Father! I am that 
 lady ; that has been my life until now, and so I
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 33 
 
 suppose it will continue to be until the end. 
 Hardly worth living for, is it ? I am like the 
 Lady of Shalott, weaving an idle web of colors 
 gay, and grown half sick of shadows." 
 
 She went away. The brothers looked at 
 each other. 
 
 " The Lady of Shalott left her web and left 
 her loom," said Uncle Josiah. "She left the 
 unreal for the real, the shadow for substance." 
 
 " I have made mistakes which it is too late 
 to rectify," said Dives. 
 
 "My brother," said Uncle Josiah, "perhaps 
 God has set you here, aside from the business 
 cares of the world, here in the strong light of 
 eternity, where you can estimate the true value 
 of things that perish in the using ; and perhaps 
 you can still save your child from the dangers 
 that are about her." 
 
 " Last night," said Mr. Grosvenor, " I had a 
 dream. I was between sleeping and waking, 
 thinking of these things, and in a dream or 
 vision I saw a hand reached out of heaven which 
 crumbled, like a house built of cards, all this 
 great fortune I have risked so much to gain ! 
 And then I saw my child shaking off golden 
 chains and holding up empty hands to heaven, 
 and a light shone on her face, and I saw that she 
 was a strong and loving woman, and she ran 
 with patience the race set before her, towards a 
 
 Mr. Grosvcno.-'s Daughter. 3
 
 34 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 goal which I could not see, but which shed upon 
 her path an ever-growing light." 
 
 " Your dream was woven of our talk, of your 
 thoughts for Deborah, and the words of our pas- 
 tor, when he read and prayed with you yester- 
 day. Yet it may be God's lesson to you, although 
 we know of what it was woven." 
 
 " There is more to tell you, brother. My 
 \vindows were open here, and in that deep si- 
 lence just before the morning twilight, while all 
 about me were sleeping, I heard two women 
 walking by and talking ; and their words came 
 to me clearly on the night air. One said, ' I 
 should be afraid to go out of this world bur- 
 dened with the responsibility of millions. I 
 should be afraid that when the Judge asked me 
 how I had used my stewardship I must hang 
 my head for shame.' 
 
 " ' But if with the millions/ said the other, 
 ' he had increased the grace, and you could say, 
 " Lord, thy talent hath gained ten," then you 
 would hear the words, " Well done !" Perhaps 
 they spoke of me." 
 
 " The great banker Wiltson was found dead 
 in his private office yesterday," said Uncle Jo- 
 siah. " I think they spoke of him." 
 
 " Perhaps ; to his enormous fortune my 
 wealth is but small, but as those women spoke, I 
 thought that before my Judge I must hang my
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 35 
 
 head for shame of unused talents, and I asked 
 God to give me light for my child, so that she 
 should hear, ' Well done.' Her mother, her 
 grandmother, are, I am sure, in the city that 
 hath foundations. Have I lived to forge bars to 
 keep my daughter out?" 
 
 " Brother," said Josiah, " have courage ; God 
 will find a way." 
 
 After that, great peace 'fell on Mr. Grosve- 
 nor's heart, and concerning Deborah he rested. 
 One evening he took his brother's hand. " You 
 will stand by my dear girl, watch over her in 
 her strange way the way which God has found 
 for her ? Be to her father and mother, and do 
 not let a hair of her head be injured !" 
 
 " That is as God wills," said Josiah ; " I prom- 
 ise to do my best." 
 
 "She will be tried," said the dying father, 
 " tried as by fire, cast into a crucible." 
 
 " And He who sits beside the crucible will 
 one day see His own image reflected there," said 
 Josiah firmly. 
 
 "God grant it! That indeed is worth the 
 fires !" 
 
 In these months they were three Deborah 
 and her father had at last become acquainted ; 
 they had grown sacredly dear to each other; 
 Deborah had discovered that she had a heart. 
 
 That the earth may receive seed and bring
 
 36 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 forth harvests, it is in the spring-time torn with 
 the ploughshare and made soft with showers. 
 So oftentimes the heart, which is as an arid, fal- 
 low field, is rent by loss and sorrow and receives 
 the rain of tears, and lo, harvests rise. 
 
 The three months were ended, and Mr. Gros- 
 venor was carried to his grave. 
 
 " I have lost in my father my all," said Deb- 
 orah. 
 
 She and Uncle Josiah were sitting in the 
 library, in the twilight, and without the autumn 
 rain dripped slowly; the cold drops seemed to 
 be falling on Deborah's heart when she realized 
 that they were pattering upon her father's grave ! 
 
 "Yes, Deborah," answered her uncle, "and 
 what you say is truer than you think. I have 
 something to tell you, something that may be 
 a hard and bitter surprise. Perhaps it will fall 
 upon you less keenly if I tell it to you now, in 
 an hour when the loss of your father makes all 
 other losses seem trivial. My child, can you 
 realize that you are a poor woman ? Aside from 
 your little personal possessions, your clothing, 
 ornaments, jewels, and some furniture especially 
 given to you in other years, you have not a dol- 
 lar that you can call your own." 
 
 "What," said Deborah, "what, uncle! My 
 father was rich !" 
 
 "He was; but, child, in a thousand ways
 
 "THE RICH MAN ALSO DIED." 37 
 
 riches can change hands, and his, as it might be 
 by one stroke of the pen, by one revolution of 
 business, left you with nothing. My dear, is 
 this too hard to hear ?" 
 
 Deborah rose up and drew a deep breath. 
 She slowly paced up and down the room ; she 
 stopped before a long mirror, and by the red 
 light in the grate saw herself dimly reflected 
 there, a shape in black. What, had it come to 
 this, that Deborah had but herself alone ? Deb- 
 orah who had always been counted with the mil- 
 lions Deborah, divested of her millions, stand- 
 ing alone ? As yet she could not comprehend it.
 
 38 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 
 
 " Into this world we come like ships 
 Launched from the docks and stocks and slips 
 
 For fortune fair or fatal ; 
 And one little craft is cast away 
 In its very first trip in Babbicome Bay, 
 
 While another rides safe at Port Natal." 
 
 THE announcement of her changed circum- 
 stances for a moment startled and confused Mis?! 
 Grosvenor. She did not comprehend how it 
 could be. But she had never learned the worth 
 of money by lacking it. She had not been con- 
 tented, and she laid her discontent to the riches 
 that surrounded her. Money had not made her 
 happy, let it go! She looked at her uncle. 
 " Do you mean that I shall have to give up the 
 house and the servants and all that is here ?" 
 
 " Yes, certainly." 
 
 " I do n't know that I shall care much. I should 
 have had to engage a chaperone, and no doubt 
 she would have bored me. Where shall I live ? 
 Shall I get board at the Belmont? or at some 
 private boarding-house? I believe there are 
 boarding-houses right over here on the avenue." 
 
 There was once a queen of France who said.
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 39 
 
 when she heard that the people were starving, 
 that if she were in their place she would 
 rather eat bread and cheese than starve. Miss 
 Grosvenor was about as wise as her majesty. 
 Poverty, to her, meant, in its deepest depths, 
 boarding at fifteen or eighteen dollars a week. 
 Uncle Josiah shook his head. 
 
 " My child, you have no money to pay your 
 board at a hotel or a fashionable place. When 
 I say you have nothing I mean that you will 
 have to live in a poor way and earn your own 
 living. I too am poor. Whatever I had has 
 gone with my brother's fortune, except the 
 merest trifle. 
 
 " However, we will remain together here in 
 the city. I shall be a friend and protector for 
 you and you will be a daughter for me. I can 
 earn a little in my own behalf. As to this es- 
 tablishment, the sooner we give it up the better. 
 The law allows you something ; you will do well 
 to look through the house with me and select 
 what you had better keep. Also, you have a 
 right to your own clothing, jewels, and all that 
 has been personally given to you." 
 
 "Are there any debts unpaid?" asked Miss 
 Grosvenor. 
 
 " I think there will be only the doctor's bill 
 and the funeral expenses." 
 
 " If I am a poor woman my jewels, dresses, and
 
 4O MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 laces will be out of place for me. I will sell them 
 and pay those bills and put up a plain monu- 
 ment in our cemetery lot for my father." 
 
 Nurse Agnes Jamieson knocked at the door 
 and entered. 
 
 " Have ye told her aboot it ?" she asked. 
 
 " That I have no money ?" said Deborah. 
 " Yes. I am glad my father had money as long as 
 he lived, and I hope he did not worry about me." 
 
 " No, he did not," said Uncle Josiah. 
 
 " There is no need to worry ; other people 
 make their living, and I suppose I can." 
 
 " My lassie, I ken there is guid metal in 
 you. You will come oot o' the furnace like gold 
 tried in the fire. Here I stan' to say that I 
 bided wi' your gran'mither a' her life, an' so 
 will I bide wi' you till God calls me. Here noo, 
 my dear lass, I hae a little annuity fro' yer gran'- 
 mither, a hunner a year. That will pay my 
 rent o' a room, an I can bide wi ye an' Maister 
 Josiah. I '11 do the wash for ye, an' I '11 eat o' 
 your bite an' your sup. We '11 a* be thegither." 
 
 Nurse Jamieson had never showed for the 
 stately and cold Miss Grosvenor the devotion 
 which she now testified for the disinherited 
 Deborah. Deborah was touched. She laid her 
 hand on the dame's shoulder. " Surely I can 
 take care of you, Jamieson. And, uncle, if I can, 
 as you say, keep some things from the house, I
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 4! 
 
 will keep all that is in Jamieson's room, so that 
 she will not find too great a change when she 
 goes with me." 
 
 " I think," said Uncle Josiah, " that as Nurse 
 Agnes understands more of practical life than 
 you do, she had better select the articles that 
 shall be saved. Our first affair will be a home." 
 
 " When I was in Paris," said Deborah, " I re- 
 member there was a quarter there called the ' St. 
 Lazare,' or the Lazarus Quarter. I think it was 
 only for the poor folks. Is there no Quarter St. 
 Lazarus in this city ? Let us find it and go there, 
 if it is there that we belong." 
 
 " There is Lazarus Quarter enough," said her 
 uncle, " but very little Saint about it." 
 
 " We maun help to make it mair saintly, by 
 the grace o' God," said Nurse Jamieson. 
 
 Deborah and her uncle walked slowly 
 through the great, silent, darkened house. Miss 
 Grosvenor pointed to some things as articles 
 which, if she had a fitting place, she would have 
 really liked to keep. Some of the articles had 
 associations connected with them to which she 
 clung. " I shall be sorry to part with those," she 
 said ; " for the rest I do not care at all. Let them 
 go ; they only remind me of weariness, hollow- 
 ness, and sham." 
 
 Then in looking over her jewelry, a mass of 
 splendid and useless ornaments, she selected a
 
 42 MR. GROSVEXOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 few things which had belonged to her own mo- 
 ther, and the first watch, given her when she 
 was ten years old, by her father. " I want to keep 
 these." 
 
 " Very good," said her uncle ; " the watch 
 you will need, and it is not a dangerously valua- 
 ble one. The jewels are not fit for the Lazarus 
 Quarter. I will put them in the hands of a 
 banker whom I know in the country, and he 
 will take care of them for you. You must save 
 out also the best sewing-machine." 
 
 " A sewing-machine !" cried Miss Grosvenor. 
 " Why I never sewed a yard on one ! I do n't 
 know how to run it. What use will it be ?" 
 
 "You will have to learn to run it, or how 
 will you get your clothes made ? Remember you 
 are poor. And by the way, Deborah, how do 
 you expect to make a living ?" 
 
 " I do n't know," said Deborah blankly. 
 
 " Can you teach music, French, painting, 
 kindergarten ?" 
 
 " No ! I know nothing of all that," cried 
 Deborah. 
 
 " Can you keep books ? Can you make bon- 
 nets or gowns?" 
 
 " No, of course not. In fact, I know nothing 
 useful." 
 
 " Suppose it was work or starve, what could 
 you do?"
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 43 
 
 " I think," said Deborah, after a little consid- 
 eration, " that I might be a ' fitter on ' in some 
 big establishment, if they thought it would 
 bring a crowd to see the millionaire Miss Gros- 
 venor earning her bread ; or I could teach dan- 
 cing, if I could find a place. Absolutely that is 
 all I know. I do n't care to do either of those 
 things. I want at last to do something useful. 
 Uncle, there has been a grand mistake, that a 
 person possessed of all natural faculties, time, 
 and money, has gone through twenty-one years 
 without learning one -useful thing ! I was read- 
 ing in my Bible this morning about the barren 
 fig-tree. I am that barren tree ; I am sure of it. 
 No good works have grown in my life, no graces 
 in my heart. I wonder it was not said of me, 
 ' Cut it down. Why cumbereth it the ground ?' " 
 
 " It was said rather to dig about the roots, 
 and prune and trim it, and see if it would not 
 bear a noble crop. The digging and pruning 
 may go hard with you, Deborah. You may 
 have a bitter apprenticeship in learning how 
 the other half of the world lives." 
 
 " I saw a tree once," said Miss Grosvenor, 
 " that had been killed by having a very luxuriant 
 vine grow over it. The vine had strangled the 
 tree. Perhaps I shall have a better chance with- 
 out any money. What is that about riches laid 
 lip to the owner's hurt ?"
 
 44 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " It is indeed said that riches laid up for selfish 
 enjoyment are for one's hurt, also that the ' love 
 of money is the root of all evil.' But the pos- 
 session of money may be a great blessing when 
 riches are consecrated to God and used in his 
 service ; then they bring joy and largeness of 
 heart to their possessor and to those whom he 
 has wisely helped. 
 
 " It seems strange to me, Deborah, that in a 
 city where there are many godly people who 
 are rich, and who consecrate their time, money, 
 influence, all that they have, to the service of God 
 and their fellows, you have never met any of 
 them or so mingled with them as to be stim- 
 ulated and helped upward by their example. 
 Why is it?" 
 
 " Because we were so worldly that I sup- 
 pose they thought no good could be done to 
 us or by us. Mrs. Grosvenor, you know, was 
 rather opposed to religion and religious people ; 
 she seldom went to church, and was not very 
 cordial to our pastor. Our church is called, I 
 think, the most worldly in all the city. I think 
 our way of life and our pleasures are such as 
 good people generally condemn. The Christian 
 Temperance women came about us a little, but 
 Mrs. Grosvenor was determined to use wine at 
 her parties and called them cranks for opposing 
 it. The Foreign Missionary Society came after
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 45 
 
 us a few times, to get us to help ; but she said 
 that she did n't believe in Foreign Missions ; 
 there were heathen enough at home." 
 
 " Well, what did you do for the home hea- 
 then ?" 
 
 " Nothing : she said charity pauperized peo- 
 ple, and if they were not shiftless and lazy they 
 would not be in need. Besides, father was lib- 
 eral, and he always put his check in the plate 
 for fifty or a hundred dollars at each collection." 
 
 "Is it right to lay the blame all on Mrs. 
 Grosvenor? You had money in your own purse ; 
 your time was at your own disposal ; you were 
 capable, as a reasonable being, of forming your 
 own opinions." 
 
 " I know I have been to blame ; and now it 
 is too late to mend it. I wake up to know that I 
 am poor and must work for myself ; now I can- 
 not give or work for others, even if I wish it. 
 Some day I may wish I had my fortune back, to 
 make better use of it." 
 
 " I dare say you may," said Uncle Josiah 
 dryly. " Like flows to like in this world, my 
 child, and it seems to me if you had had a real 
 love of God and hunger for his presence, you 
 would have affiliated more with his people." 
 
 " But, uncle, I had no such love and hunger 
 for God. I have so little soul-life that some- 
 times I suspect I have none at all."
 
 46 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Dissatisfaction with that state is however a 
 hopeful sign," he replied. 
 
 A few days after this Uncle Josiah told Deb- 
 orah that he had found a home for them in the 
 Lazarus Quarter three rooms in the second 
 story of a house in a quiet court. " I have or- 
 dered a man to put two coats of whitewash on 
 the walls, and a washerwoman who lives on the 
 third floor is to give them a thorough scrubbing 
 with carbolic soap and lye. After that I shall 
 put three coats of paint on the floors and wood- 
 work. I had better spend some of my little in 
 putting the rooms into as good hygienic order as 
 possible. There is water in the largest room, 
 and they have the sun." 
 
 " Three rooms to live in for three of us ! to 
 eat and sleep and all that !" cried Deborah. 
 " But perhaps we are to take our meals out." 
 
 " Nurse Jamieson will cook them for us in the 
 largest room, which will be our dining-room, 
 sitting-room, and kitchen, and I shall sleep there 
 on a lounge, which can be turned into a bed. 
 One of the other rooms will be for you, and one 
 for Jamieson." 
 
 " I never heard of anything so dreadful," said 
 Deborah frankly. 
 
 "Why, child, often a whole family lives in 
 one room. All the other families in that house 
 have only two rooms apiece, and some of the
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 47 
 
 families have six or seven members. Three 
 rooms for three is luxury." 
 
 " Why did n't you put a little gold-paper on 
 the walls? Isn't whitewash horrible stuff?" 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " It is very healthful stuff, and I put it on the 
 walls as a sanitary measure. Besides, we are 
 now done with gold." 
 
 " Three rooms whitewash !" said Deborah, 
 confounded. 
 
 " I am going myself to put the paint on," 
 said Uncle Josiah very cheerfully, " to-morrow 
 morning ; suppose you go with me. Borrow an 
 apron from Nurse Jamieson, and take a pair of 
 old gloves with you. Perhaps you may find 
 something to do, and you can get acquainted 
 with your neighbors." 
 
 Next morning Deborah set off with her uncle 
 in tolerably good spirits. They found a big, 
 blue-eyed, fair-skinned Swede woman washing 
 the last of the windows. " I could not get done 
 the last night," she said, " my baby was so cross. 
 He cuts his toofs." 
 
 " This is the young lady who is going to live 
 here with me and our old friend, Mrs. Jamie- 
 son," said Uncle Josiah. 
 
 The woman gave Deborah a critical survey. 
 " Poor young lady, it will not suit she at all. I 
 am sorry she has lost her money."
 
 48 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I did not care for it," said Deborah calmly. 
 
 " Ach ! what an idea ! But you will care for 
 it now it 's gone, much /" 
 
 " I do n't see that these rooms have any bath- 
 room," said Miss Grosvenor, still in the queenly 
 condition of being unable to understand the 
 status of the masses and their surroundings. 
 
 The washerwoman laughed openly. " The 
 like of we, miss, never has bath-rooms. If we 
 have a bit of a bowl, or perhaps the wash-tub, 
 and the matter of a curtain, so we can take a 
 wash, we get on well indeed. But here, why 
 you have a room all to yourself !" 
 
 A room ! Miss Grosvenor had always had 
 undisputed possession of three, besides the gen- 
 eral use of the house and the constant occupa- 
 tion of the drawing-rooms. She sighed and 
 gave up the problem of how people lived. Un- 
 cle Josiah was painting. 
 
 " I believe I could do that," said Deborah 
 with interest. 
 
 " I believe you could : take a brush and a can 
 and try. See how I handle the brush. Don't 
 get the paint on your apron, and don't drop 
 more than you put on the wood. Try that base- 
 board." 
 
 Miss Grosvenor was usefully employed for 
 the first time in her life. There was a clatter of 
 little feet and a fat child came in. " Moder !
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 49 
 
 The baby have roll on his face, an I des tan't 
 pick he up." 
 
 " Make your manners to the lady, Berta. I '11 
 come soon enough." 
 
 " Do you let that little child run on the 
 stairs alone? I should think she would fall!" 
 said Deborah, who had seen children followed 
 up by nurses until they were nine or ten years 
 old. 
 
 " You know not much about our ways, miss," 
 said Mrs. Werner with a hearty laugh. " That 
 leetle schild does all my errands, an' she takes 
 care of the baby when I work. I have five older 
 ones, but one is hired out she is fifteen ; and the 
 next four goes to school, and in vacation they 
 are cash boys. Poor folks' children, miss, begins 
 to work young." 
 
 Mrs. Werner was scouring the doors as she 
 spoke. The doors being open, Deborah heard a 
 constant loud groaning, that now and then rose 
 to little shrill cries. 
 
 "What is that dreadful noise!" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 " You wont hear it in a minute, miss, when I 
 shuts the door," said Mrs. Werner. " It 's poor 
 old Mrs. Kegan. She has rheumatiz that bad, 
 she just hollers and moans. Poor soul, I do pity 
 her, lying alone. You see when these cold, 
 chilly nights and mornings come, she do get 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor't Daughter. 'T
 
 5o MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 mighty bad, for she has no flannels and no blan- 
 kets. Summers she 's better." 
 
 "Why doesn't she get some flannels and 
 blankets, instead of suffering that way ? or why 
 doesn't some one get them for her?" 
 
 Again Mrs. Werner laughed: she found 
 Dives' daughter a very amusing young lady. 
 " Why, miss, it 's the money ; flannels is so dear ! 
 She 's got no money for it, and none of us is rich 
 enough to buy them for her, poor heart !" 
 
 Then came a gleam of sense to Dives' daugh- 
 ter. " I supposed that there were people city 
 missionaries or charitable folks to see after 
 such cases and get things for poor folks." 
 
 " Ach yes, there are ; but they are like poor 
 people's bread and potatoes, not enough to go 
 round often. And they go to the poorest parts 
 of the city and to those who apply at the public 
 sharities. Now here, miss, we are very respect- 
 able ; we are all in regular work and support 
 ourselves, and our court is very comfortable ; so 
 we none of us ever go near the sharities, except 
 now and then I ask for extra work when work is 
 slack. The people who go about giving things 
 go to the real poor folks and the very bad 
 streets and courts." 
 
 More amazement on the part of Miss Gros- 
 venor. " What ! Are there poorer people than 
 here poorer places than this?"
 
 THE OTHER HALF. 5! 
 
 "She don't know much about it, do she?" 
 said Mrs. Werner, appealing to Uncle Josiah. 
 " Why, miss, here 's comfort." 
 
 But Deborah's mind had gone back to Mrs. 
 Kegan. " How long has that poor creature been 
 suffering for flannels?" 
 
 " She 's been pretty bad every winter for five 
 years, ever since I came to this house. I don't 
 move much," said Mrs. Werner. 
 
 " Uncle, she has been moaning and suffering 
 for five years for want of flannels, while up in 
 one of our attics there are all kinds of woollen 
 goods, wrappers and shawls and blankets, and 
 no end of things, just laid by for no one. There 
 is something very wrong in that." 
 
 " I think there is" said Uncle Josiah deci- 
 dedly. 
 
 "You see, miss, them as has and them as 
 wants do not often get together, and them as 
 goes round begging for it are most often greedy 
 ones who do n't deserve," said Mrs. Werner, has- 
 tening to explain matters. 
 
 " I think, uncle, I have a right to what in the 
 attic has ever been mine," suggested Deborah. 
 
 " You have a right to all that is in the attic, I 
 am sure." 
 
 The attic suddenly rose before Deborah's 
 fancy as an Aladdin's cave. She had gone up 
 there now and then, looking for things for pri-
 
 52 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 vate theatricals, when she and her friends were 
 making desperate efforts to amuse themselves. 
 Now the second-hand stuff there seemed wealth. 
 Flannels! blankets! cushions! toys so many 
 toys with which she had once played. She 
 thought this round-eyed Werner mite would be 
 joyful over those jtoys and picture-books. She 
 was about to promise them lavishly when a 
 baby's scream sounded down the stairs, and Mrs. 
 Werner and little Berta incontinently disap- 
 peared. 
 
 " Uncle," said Deborah, picking up her paint- 
 brush, " there are oceans of toys in the attic I 
 can give to that child." 
 
 Uncle Josiah laughed. " Promiscuous and 
 lavish giving will be as bad as withholding. 
 The children of the poor are made not for toys 
 but for affairs. One doll would be wealth to 
 that child. It is the sick children for whom 
 toys must be kept. All those in your attic 
 should long ago have gone to the Children's 
 Hospital."
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 
 
 " Not so the infant Killmansegg : 
 She was not born to steal or beg 
 
 Or gather cresses in ditches, 
 To plait the straw or bind the shoe, 
 Or sit all day to hem or sew." 
 
 WHEN the news spread that the supposed 
 vast wealth of Dives had somehow vanished, 
 that the house and its splendid furnishings, the 
 silver and the pictures, the horses and carriages, 
 were to go under the hammer of the auctioneer, 
 great was the amazement of the golden friends 
 of golden hours who had trodden with Dives 
 and his house the circle of fashionable pleasures. 
 
 " Miss Grosvenor left nothing ! What will 
 she do ?" 
 
 " She has that queer old uncle ; he may take 
 care of her." 
 
 " They say he is as poor as she is." 
 
 " Dear, dear ! There ought to be some pro- 
 vision made by . Government for suddenly im- 
 poverished young ladies. They are the most 
 helpless creatures! What can she do? She 
 can't do anything! Has she talent for the 
 stage?"
 
 54 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 44 The stage ! That cold, unbending, icy, dis- 
 contented girl ! The idea of her playing Juliet 
 or Bianca ! And then, unless one is a genius, a 
 prodigious genius, the stage is the work of a 
 life-time training. Why don't you ask if she 
 cannot take to the concert boards or the opera 
 at once, and be a diva, like Patti ? And after 
 all, what is there to do for such women ?" 
 
 "Nothing: she would be refused even as 
 chambermaid or waitress, without any experi- 
 ence. Poor soul. She 'd better be dead." 
 
 Thus those who had known her and hovered 
 about her in the days of her prosperity. They 
 were really sorry for her, very sorry but they 
 did n't know what to do about it. They did not 
 know how to advise her or help her ; and it was 
 very wearing to see a person in such a hopeless 
 case. If it had been only the death of her pa- 
 rents, they could have gone and condoled with her 
 properly, for then she would have had open to 
 her the comfort that is to be found in travelling 
 and in becoming mourning and the distractions 
 of using her wealth. But what comfort can one 
 find in poverty ? That situation is too desper- 
 ate ! The dear five hundred left cards at Dives' 
 soon-to-be-closed doors, and rolled away in their 
 carriages without offering to call. Some 
 many forgot even to leave cards. Three or 
 four gentlemen, friends of Dives, called on Un-
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 55 
 
 cle Josiah and asked if they could do anything 
 for Miss Grosvenor " This was a very sad case 
 indeed." 
 
 Uncle Josiah said he knew nothing that they 
 could do just then ; he did not expect to let his 
 niece suffer. She would earn her bread, as 
 many other women had to, and possibly he 
 might some day call on them for a little in- 
 fluence or a recommendation in the way of 
 bread-winning. 
 
 One old gentleman shook his head. " ' Noth- 
 ing in God's universe is so helpless, so unuttera- 
 bly helpless, as a rich woman, taught to do noth- 
 ing, .suddenly become poor. The smallest 
 birds, the butterflies, the caterpillars, that we 
 call defenceless and helpless, are less helpless 
 than she, because their wants and needs are 
 less, and they know how to supply them. What 
 is there that Miss Grosvenor has strength or 
 knowledge or aptitude for? Nothing. There 
 are homes and refuges here and there for old 
 ladies of fallen fortunes, nothing for young 
 ladies." 
 
 One or two elderly ladies called and la- 
 mented to Miss Grosvenor that she had not mar- 
 ried. " You have refused so many good offers. 
 Now if you were married, you would be safe 
 even if your father's fortune is lost. You had far 
 better tak^ somebody now, and settle yourself."
 
 56 MR. GROSVENCR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " My suitors are all gone with my money," said 
 Deborah. " Not the face of an eligible young 
 man has appeared since the first hints of ruin ! 
 I am glad I am not married." 
 
 " What a pity that you have been so cold 
 hearted, Miss Grosvenor !" 
 
 " Even that is better than marriage for 
 mercenary motives. I think in that respect I 
 have had high ideals," smiled Deborah. 
 
 " High ideals are well enough for rich peo- 
 ple, but poor folks cannot indulge in them." 
 
 Then one old lady invited her to come and 
 visit her for a year ; another suggested that she 
 might give her board and clothes, if she acted as 
 reader, scribe, and companion. 
 
 " I might be thankful to take the offer," said 
 Deborah, " only my uncle and I are going to 
 stay together and take care of each other." 
 
 "Oh, if your uncle is responsible for you !" 
 And the old ladies were very much relieved. 
 
 Among the life-long acquaintances of Miss 
 Grosvenor was one with whom she had been 
 least intimate, Miss Leila Stirling. Miss Stir- 
 ling had joined the church when Deborah did. 
 Her sister had been one of those whose sudden 
 death in the midst of festivities had called a 
 halt among the golden youth who lived to pur- 
 sue pleasure. The change at that point in her 
 career in Miss Stirling had been deep and last-
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 57 
 
 ing a new life had begun : her old companions 
 felt rebuked by the simplicity and devotion of 
 this newness of life into which she had passed. 
 Some way she was out of harmony with many 
 of them. Delicate health and the demands 
 made upon her time by a bereaved and invalid 
 mother had further separated her from former 
 friends. She had always seemed to cling to 
 Deborah Grosvenor and admire her, but had 
 she not made three calls to Deborah's one, they 
 would have lost sight of each other. At the 
 first news of Deborah's loss of fortune Leila 
 Stirling came to see her. She was a warm- 
 hearted, enthusiastic girl, overflowing with sym- 
 pathy. "Dear Deborah, you don't know how 
 much I have always loved you. You seemed to 
 me like my sister that died. I never dared show 
 you how much I cared for you, because I some- 
 how fancied that you did not wish affection. I 
 wish you'd come and live with me, dear Deb- 
 orah. Mamma has plenty of money for both 
 of us. She would be better off with another 
 daughter. We are going to South France for 
 mamma's health. Wont you go with us ? Come ; 
 we will have all things in common, and you are 
 so very much wiser and more dignified than I am, 
 you will be such a help to me. Why I cannot 
 go away and leave you here with such changed 
 fortune. What can you do ?"
 
 58 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "I don't know. But I shall find something 
 as others do." 
 
 " I 'm afraid the others do n't find it always, 
 and, Deborah, you are not made for a hard life." 
 
 "I don't see why I am not made for it as 
 much as others are. I find by studying the 
 matter that more than half, yes, more than three- 
 quarters, of the whole number of civilized wo- 
 men are working women. Now I too must be 
 a working woman ; I belong to the majority." 
 
 " It would be far different if you had been 
 brought up to it. Then privations would by 
 habit have become easier, and you would have 
 learned something to do. Now you know noth- 
 ing. I am sure, Deborah, that it is very wrong 
 to bring up women as you and I have been 
 brought up, to know no useful and proper way 
 of making a living. We are left perfectly help- 
 less, and the mere accident of losing our money 
 makes us beggars and miserable. If we felt 
 the serene independence of knowing something 
 to do, how much stronger and better off we 
 should be." 
 
 " Well, now I have my chance, Leila, and I 
 am going to learn to do something." 
 
 " Come to me, dear, while you are learning." 
 
 " That would be to go to a life which would 
 make useful learning impossible. I should go 
 to you to drift, as I have drifted. No; now I
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 59 
 
 shall learn to work for myself and to understand 
 and sympathize with other wage-workers." 
 
 " The ancient Hebrews considered it one of 
 the first duties of a father to see that every one 
 of his sons was taught a useful trade so that he 
 could always earn his own bread. Paul, you 
 will remember, was' a tent-maker. I wish parents 
 now-a-days felt it a duty to teach every daughter 
 a means of honorable self-support. But, Deborah, 
 if you would come and live with me you would 
 still need to do nothing." 
 
 " I believe I no longer crave that exemption 
 from labor. I have already had a glimpse of 
 my working sisters. I shall go down among 
 them to learn how they live and how they suffer. 
 The truth is, Leila, I have been a heartless idler 
 all my life ; I did n't know that I could be any- 
 thing better. I am sick to death of this empty 
 idleness. I never have had any real satisfaction 
 in it, and now I mean to see if there is anything 
 better on the hard-working side of life. I have 
 done nothing all my days for God or humanity. 
 I have not grown, I have shrunk. I remember 
 long ago, when I was a child, I thought of the 
 poor and the suffering and wanted to help them. 
 Then I grew selfish, forgot all about others, and 
 cared only for myself. I can see nothing less 
 like Christ than such a life as I have led, so 
 selfish, so trivial ! God has taken away the riches
 
 6o MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 in which I trusted and shaken me out of this 
 home where I have considered only my own 
 ease. Perhaps I shall learn to feel for others 
 only by sharing their hard lot. At all events, 
 Leila, thank you for your kind offer, but until 
 I have tried to help myself and failed utterly, 
 until I have learned by experience something of 
 the hardness of life, I cannot take that offer." 
 
 "You look so unfitted for that hard life," 
 sighed Leila. 
 
 " I am perfectly healthy, and twenty-one, in 
 possession of all my faculties. I have Uncle 
 Josiah and Nurse Jamieson to keep me from 
 being all alone in the world. I think I begin 
 with as fair a chance as any one could." 
 
 " But what will you do, dear girl ?" 
 
 " I do n't know. I shall look for work. That 
 is one of the experiences of working women. It 
 will be hard. That will serve me right. Have 
 I ever cared for or sympathized with or tried to 
 help women who were looking for work ? I 
 have been abominably selfish." 
 
 Leila rose up and kissed her. " I am sorry I 
 am going away. But the doctor has ordered 
 mamma to leave at once. You will write to me, 
 dear Deborah ? You will let me help you, give 
 to you, lend to you ; treat me like a sister, will 
 you not?" 
 
 Deborah looked her in the face and laughed.
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 6l 
 
 She would not promise. She was a proud girl : 
 defeat confessed would be ten times defeat. 
 She would take her chances with other workers. 
 
 Leila wrung her hands. " You '11 have a 
 dreadful time ! What is there for women to do ? 
 To stand in stores ? To sew ? You do n't know 
 how to sew, do you, Deborah ? I do n't. I em- 
 broider a little." 
 
 " Nurse Jamieson says, ' He is worth no weel 
 who can bide no woe,' " replied Deborah. " Now 
 I can show what I am made of." 
 
 " You will show that you are made of all that 
 is good and noble and true !" cried Leila ; " and, 
 Deborah, already I see that troubles have made 
 you better. I never before heard you speak of 
 trying to do your duty or to be like Christ. If 
 these afflictions work out for you the exceeding 
 weight of glory, it will be worth the suffering to 
 win the crown. The way of the cross is the 
 way of light. ' This is the way the Master went ; 
 shall not the servant tread it still ?' Dear Deb- 
 orah, now I feel nearer to you than ever. We 
 can now help one another on in the Christian 
 life. You will be where you can see what help 
 is needed, and you can let me give it. I am now 
 shut out from anything but waiting upon and 
 comforting mamma, and if there is any work for 
 me among the poor and suffering I must be 
 helped to it by you. Write to me often."
 
 62 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 And so this friend went away, and Deborah 
 reflected on the fact that the acquaintance who 
 had been steadfast and true was the Christian, 
 the one whom she had avoided as " too pious " 
 and as " given to preachments." 
 
 Deborah was a reticent girl, and hitherto her 
 affections had been given little scope. Leila was 
 warm hearted and effusive ; Deborah had never 
 been able to appreciate or understand her, but 
 now she was touched. Leila sailed for Europe. 
 The last day in the house of Dives came. Nurse 
 Jamieson had set in order the little home in the 
 Lazarus Quarter. The daughter of Dives was 
 divested of all her splendors : her jewels, laces, 
 and rich raiment were sold ; all her fine furniture 
 and pretty ornaments and curios were gone ; a 
 half-dozen or so of books, a couple of engravings, 
 a bird, a few pots of plants, the simplest of black 
 garments these only were left her. 
 
 The treasures of the attic had been taken 
 charge of by Uncle Josiah, who said that he 
 knew a place where he could keep them and get 
 them out as they were needed. The daughter 
 of Dives passed from her life-long splendors, 
 from her purple and fine linen, to the abodes of 
 Lazarus. 
 
 The people of Romaine Court were all ex- 
 citement about the rich, stately young lady who 
 had become poor and with her old nurse and
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 63 
 
 uncle had come to live among them. Already 
 she stood high in their opinion as a Lady Boun- 
 tiful, for Mrs. Kegan had received from her 
 blankets, flannels, a big softly-cushioned chair, a 
 shawl, and a double flannel wrapper. Little 
 Berta Werner had exhibited to admiring neigh- 
 bors a large doll, with real hair and eyes that 
 opened and shut. 
 
 " Why did n't she play with the doll ?" Deb- 
 orah had asked, seeing the waxen wonder left to 
 sit in state on a corner shelf. 
 
 " Play wis it !" cried the industrious infant in 
 amazement ; " I 've got ze baby to tate tare of. 
 But I loves to look at it. It is prettier zan ze 
 baby." 
 
 Evidently, thought the people of Romaine 
 Court, a lady who could give away so much, who 
 was not obliged to sell such treasures or send 
 them to the pawnbroker, could not be very poor. 
 
 As for Deborah, she moved into her new 
 abode, and spent an hour in contemplating in 
 heartsick horror its bareness, desolation, and 
 poverty. Where in that home of splendor had 
 Nurse Jamieson found such plain, queer, shabby 
 furniture ? How could one live without any of 
 the comforts and conveniences of life ? 
 
 She heard a voice in the hall. " Hey, Miss 
 Gibbs, how are you to-day ? Them new folks, 
 the rich ones, have come. Mis' Werner had their
 
 64 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 key, and she let me peek in this morning into 
 their rooms. A'n't they splendid! Just ele- 
 gant ! Folks ought to be pretty contented that 
 can have three rooms, as well set up as that. 
 I 'd be more 'n thankful for one half as good. I 
 don't reckon we'll see much of Miss. 'Ta'n't 
 likely she '11 'sociate with we. But then she 's 
 been mighty kind to poor Mis' Kegan." 
 
 Well, sure enough, there are two sides to the 
 shield. Deborah rose up and set herself to 
 making the most of her forlorn surroundings. 
 She put plants, books, pictures in the best 
 places, arranged and re-arranged the furniture. 
 Her native taste came to the rescue ; the neat- 
 ness achieved by dame Agnes was supplemented 
 by Miss Grosvenor's skill, and a look of home 
 and comfort came into the three rooms. 
 
 It was tea-time ; Nurse Jamieson made tea 
 and toast and fried some potatoes. Never had 
 Deborah seen a meal so plain. When the table 
 was set, near the cooking-stove, Deborah went'to 
 the little closet and took out a third plate, cup, 
 and saucer. 
 
 " Nurse," she said, " we are all one family 
 here ; you and I are both working women now, 
 and we will eat together. I know what I want ; 
 do n't object to it." 
 
 " She is right," said Uncle Josiah. 
 
 Nurse Jamieson looked at Deborah with tears
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 65 
 
 in her eyes. " It is a' too hard for her !" she ex- 
 claimed. " Maister Josiah, it is no right that my 
 puir lassie should be tried so far !" 
 
 " It is all right," said Uncle Josiah ; " in com- 
 parison with three-fourths of the working-girls 
 Deborah is well off." 
 
 " Weel," said Agnes, " far sought and dear 
 bought is guid for ladies." 
 
 " A lady," said Deborah, " is, Webster tells 
 us, a person of good manners, who dresses well. 
 If that is true I have been always a lady. Now, 
 if I cannot earn enough to be well dressed, I 
 must cease to be a lady, I suppose. I 'd rather 
 get something to do, and be truly a working 
 woman. I like to know what I really am, and be 
 what I pretend to be. Uncle, have you found 
 any work ?" 
 
 " Yes ; a gentleman that I know is going to 
 pay me a small salary for going about as a sort 
 of city missionary, or colporter, or Bible-man. I 
 am going to open a room in the worst neighbor- 
 hood that I can find, and provide advice, shel- 
 ter, religious instruction ; help to find work for 
 idlers ; have open a prayer-meeting at noon and 
 at seven o'clock in the evening ; keep up a Sun- 
 day breakfast and a Sunday service and a Bible 
 school ; in short, to try what effect on sweetening 
 the Marah waters some leaves from the tree of 
 Life will have, if cast among them. Do you 
 
 Mr. Ororrtnor'i Daughter. C
 
 66 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 think, Deborah, you could be a Bible-woman 
 along with me ?" 
 
 "Decidedly no, uncle. I know very little 
 about making my living, but I do know enough 
 to be honest. A Bible-woman ought to have 
 some religious experiences I have almost none. 
 A Bible-woman ought to know something about 
 poverty and ways and means. I know abso- 
 lutely nothing of all this. I could n't tell a poor 
 woman how to make money or how to save 
 money : I know neither of these things myself. 
 A Bible-woman ought, I suppose, to be able to 
 tell people how to make a poultice or gruel or a 
 mustard plaster. All I know of doing such 
 things is to say, ' Call the cook or the housekeep- 
 er.' I suppose a Bible-woman should be able to 
 dress a burn or a sore finger, or to show a person 
 how to mend or make a garment, or how to 
 make a meal of nothing and have something left 
 over. Do I know any of these things ? Evi- 
 dently not. I shall not try to cheat God and 
 my neighbor by setting up as a Bible-woman." 
 
 " That is good sound sense," said her uncle ; 
 " but having sense to feel these things, perhaps 
 you have more aptitude for visiting the poor 
 than you imagine. However, you had better 
 seek other work." 
 
 The next day Deborah concluded she would 
 test herself in the matter of visiting the poor.
 
 PURPLE AND FINE LINEN. 6/ 
 
 She reported at evening to her uncle that she 
 had been to see old Mrs. Kegan, found the room 
 dirty and ill-smelling, the old woman querulous, 
 felt disgusted with both room and woman, and 
 had fled in five minutes. Then she went to see 
 Mrs. Werner ; there she found soap-suds, a cry- 
 ing baby, and a pile of soiled clothes. She felt 
 faint in the smell of suds, the soiled garments 
 made her ill, she could not smile at the baby, 
 much less touch or kiss it, because its face was 
 dirty ; she wanted to shake Berta for having 
 her apron torn, her shoes untied, her hair frow- 
 sy. As for loving folks who were not " nicer," 
 it was impossible. 
 
 " Behold my gifts as a helper of my kind !" 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " The gifts will grow as you recognize the 
 deficiencies. However, now we must find you 
 some other kind of work. Twenty dollars a 
 month seems to be a necessity." 
 
 " Twenty dollars! Why that will be easy 
 enough to get, I am sure !"
 
 68 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 AT THE GATE. 
 
 " And the other sex, the tender, the fair, 
 
 What wide reverses of fate are there ! 
 While Margaret, charmed by the bulbul rare, 
 
 In a garden of Gul reposes, 
 Poor Peggy hawks nosegays from street to street, 
 Till think of it, ye who find life so sweet 
 She hates the smell of roses !" 
 
 " WHAT do you expect me to do with twenty 
 dollars a month ?" asked Deborah, not particular- 
 ly eager to eat toast and fried potatoes. 
 
 " Why, support yourself, my dear child," said 
 her uncle. "Nurse Jamieson has ninety -six 
 dollars a year ; she will do all our domestic work, 
 and get in return her food, fire, and shelter. Her 
 little annuity will provide for the rest of her 
 wants. My salary is thirty dollars a month. 
 Out of that I mean to clothe myself and pro- 
 vide our food. I look to you to earn twenty 
 dollars a month, and so provide your clothing 
 and pay the eight dollars a month of rent." 
 
 Miss Grosvenor was aghast. " Clothe myself 
 for twelve dollars a month ! However, I shall 
 not need clothes for a long time. But, uncle, 
 surely the wages of a grown person should be
 
 AT THE GATE. 69 
 
 more than twenty dollars a month, if she has 
 no board and lodging provided. We can't live 
 on what you suggest." 
 
 " What do you suppose Mrs. Werner and her 
 six, yes, seven children, live on ?" said Uncle 
 Josiah. " The girl at service gets two dollars a 
 week : one she keeps for clothing, one she gives 
 to her mother. When Mrs. Werner works all the 
 time her profit on her washing is five dollars a 
 week : of course she has the use of her fire for 
 her own work and comfort. Her rent is a dol- 
 lar and a half a week. Then she has four dol- 
 lars and a half to feed and clothe herself and six 
 children. 
 
 " During four months of yearly vacation the 
 four children who go to school get each a dollar 
 a week as ' cash ' in a store. That is her harvest- 
 time for laying up money for clothes, bedding, 
 furniture. How is that ?" 
 
 " I never dreamed of such poverty," said 
 Deborah. 
 
 " It is affluence compared to the lot of many. 
 You think twenty dollars a month small wages ? 
 I named that to encourage you. Three dollars a 
 week, two dollars, or two and a half, that is what 
 the majority of your working sisters get. More 
 than that is to be earned only by experience 
 or by dangerous or unhealthy occupations." 
 
 " At all events it is worth something to
 
 70 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 know all this. I will begin on Monday to 
 search for work," said Deborah. 
 
 " Meanwhile, on Sunday, I want you and 
 Nurse Jamieson to come in the afternoon to my 
 mission, in the slums, and each teach a Bible- 
 class." 
 
 " Why, uncle, I never taught but one month, 
 and I was a terrible failure. I shall do no man- 
 ner of good," said Miss Grosvenor. 
 
 " You will be better than nobody ; you can 
 read," said her uncle grimly. 
 
 " Dear child," said Dame Jamieson, "we can 
 tell what the Lord has done for us ; and we can 
 read the good Buik to them." 
 
 " Besides, Deborah, I look to you for my 
 music," said Uncle Josiah. " I have a little par- 
 lor-organ down there, and some gospel hymns, 
 and I expect you to play the accompaniments 
 and lead the singing. Singing will be a chief 
 feature in getting my audience together. They 
 will not be critical as to quality, but they like it 
 loud and plenty of it. As we are too far off to 
 go to your church, and you have come to live 
 in Romaine Court, we shall go to this little mis- 
 sion church around the corner, and I hope we 
 shall be a real help to them there." 
 
 Monday morning Deborah bought several 
 newspapers and looked at " Help Wanted Fe- 
 males." She found demands for house servants,
 
 AT THE GATE. 71 
 
 laundresses, waitresses, a forewoman or two is. 
 factories, women with experience, a bookkeeper, 
 a buttonhole-maker of skill for a tailor's estab- 
 lishment dress - makers' and milliners' hands, 
 with experience, a bookkeeper for a restaurant, 
 a skilled worker on a sewing-machine. Nothing 
 in all this for Deborah. She went to the sec- 
 retary of the " Public Charities " and registered 
 " for work." As there was no particular kind 
 of work that she could do, the secretary gave 
 her very little encouragement. However she 
 left her name. Then she went to the " Young 
 Women's Christian Association " and made an 
 application. Could she teach, do foreign cor- 
 respondence, was she a stenographer, a good 
 type-writer ? No : nothing of this. " And you 
 cannot take less than twenty dollars a month ? 
 You can hardly get such high wages unless you 
 really know some kind of work." 
 
 High wages ! Deborah caught her breath. 
 She left her application. But she was proud, 
 reticent, well dressed. The secretary did not 
 consider it a case of extremity, and though her 
 name stood on the books, no further attention 
 was paid to it. Next to the " Women's Protect- 
 ive and Educational Society," and again she was 
 told that " work was scarce, competition great ; 
 she would have a better chance to make a living 
 if she really knew how to do something. If she
 
 72 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 had any needlework or art-work to leave to be 
 sold, meanwhile, she was welcome to do so." As 
 she walked, sad and discouraged, towards Ro- 
 maine Court she saw the sign of a private " Of- 
 fice for Ladies' Employments," and went in. 
 She was assured that work was plenty and a nice 
 place with a good salary could be found for her 
 at once, if she registered and left two dollars 
 "for expenses." She left the two dollars; she 
 also called at that office nine times within the 
 next three weeks, but no position was ever found 
 for her. 
 
 For a whole week Deborah had been seeking 
 work without success, and was now thoroughly 
 weary and discouraged. One morning she 
 found an advertisement in the paper which read 
 as if it might suit. She showed it to Nurse 
 Jamieson. 
 
 " I suppose I must go ; but it is so far up 
 town, and I am so tired of failing." 
 
 " My puir lambie ! See now, you bide here, 
 and I '11 go for you. If there is aught in it I 
 can get ye the chance o' it." 
 
 Deborah first refused, then yielded. At the 
 end of three hours Dame Agnes came back, red- 
 faced and furious. 
 
 " Did you get me anything?" demanded Deb- 
 orah. 
 
 " It was a wicked trap !" cried Agnes. " My
 
 AT THE GATE. 73 
 
 lambie, ye shanna answer advertisements save 
 to open business places. The guid Lord ha' 
 mercy on a wicked warld ! I just went to the 
 police office an' made my complaint, but there 's 
 no knowing what guid it will do." 
 
 Deborah went and lay down in her room and 
 cried. 
 
 Another week of search, and she found a 
 situation in a little office, up three flights of stairs, 
 the work directing envelopes, wages two dollars 
 and a half a week. " I am bound to do some- 
 thing, and this will pay the rent," said Deborah. 
 
 " I do n't like you to take that, but you can 
 try it, if you tell me exactly how you get on," 
 said her uncle. 
 
 At the end of a week Deborah reported that 
 her employer, a rough, untidy man, smoked all 
 day long and filled the close little den with such 
 vile smoke that it made her ill ; he and his busi- 
 ness visitors swore openly and loudly, and final- 
 ly he had called her " Sis." 
 
 "You shall not go back there," said Uncle 
 Josiah, " not for an hour. But do not forget that 
 there are girls who would be obliged to go and 
 submit to all that, or they would have no pit- 
 tance for either bed or bread." 
 
 The next week Deborah was angry against 
 her fortunes. She sat and moped ; she scarcely 
 spoke or ate. She hated her neighborhood, her
 
 74 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 poor abode, her poverty. She was miserable 
 not because there were others just as badly off 
 as she, and many worse off but miserable sim- 
 ply and solely on account of Deborah Grosvenor. 
 Her uncle sat down by her and took her hand. 
 " My dear, do you remember what Charles 
 Kingsley wrote : 4 If you want to be miserable 
 think about yourself about what you want, 
 what you like, what respect people ought to pay 
 you, and what people think of you.' That way 
 of thinking made you miserable when you were 
 rich, it can make you miserable now that you 
 are poor. Listen to me, and I will tell you what 
 I have seen. I have found a crippled child, a 
 boy of eight, whose mother leaves him at half- 
 past six in the morning, and he is alone for near- 
 ly or full twelve hours. She puts some water, 
 bread, cold meat or potatoes, at his hand, and 
 there he lies, no window but one in the roof, no 
 friends, no amusements, no toys. Think of that 
 life for a little sick child ! I have found a little 
 lame girl of twelve who takes care of six young- 
 er children, doing all the housework and wash- 
 ing, while the mother is out all day with a bas- 
 ket of fruit and the father is in the penitentiary. 
 I have found a poor woman who fell and broke 
 her arm in two places while she was cleaning a 
 store window. She cannot go to a hospital, as 
 she has year-old twins. Her husband has long
 
 AT THE GATE. 75 
 
 been sick, and can now do but light work. 
 Three dollars and a half a week is all their 
 income, and most of their bedding has been 
 pawned, so they suffer with cold. I want you 
 to make my rounds with me to-morrow, as you 
 do not have success in rinding work." 
 
 Next day Miss Grosvenor went out with her 
 uncle. December had come and the weather 
 was cold, damp, lowering. The chilly wind, the 
 mud, the mist, made the wretched abodes of the 
 poor seem more dismal than usual. It was a day 
 that Deborah always remembered, because it 
 was her first contact with real, hopeless, grinding 
 poverty. She forgot herself and her troubles ; 
 she was filled with a longing to do something to 
 relieve this abject misery. 
 
 "Uncle," she said in the evening, "what 
 have you done with those things from our attic ? 
 I am sure there were some thick quilts and a 
 dress or two that could be given to that poor 
 woman whose arm is broken. I want some of 
 my toys for that dear little cripple boy ; and is n't 
 there something to make life easier for that poor 
 child who is house -mother to that uproarious 
 little crew ?" 
 
 " I Ve no doubt that there are all these things, 
 and at this rate we shall soon give away all that 
 there was in the attic." 
 
 " Give it then. It has been withheld too
 
 76 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 long ; it will save your friend the trouble of 
 storing the stuff. Oh why did not some one 
 take me to see such need when I was rich and 
 could have helped it !" cried Deborah. 
 
 The next day at noon Nurse Jamieson said, 
 " My dearie, will you take a pitcher of soup to 
 the woman who lives in the attic of the last house 
 in our court? She has pneumonia and has no 
 one to take care of her but a child seven years 
 old. I have been doing a little for her every 
 day." 
 
 Deborah went off with the pitcher. She was 
 gone some time. When she came back she 
 said, " I combed her hair and made her bed, 
 dusted her room and fed her the soup. I think 
 we should have enough careful district nurses to 
 supply all such cases. How the sick poor are 
 neglected !" But she could not eat any dinner ; 
 it takes one a long time to get accustomed to 
 the sights, sounds, and smells of the homes of 
 sickness and poverty. 
 
 Seeing how she was affected, Uncle Josiah 
 said to her, " Deborah, perhaps this is too much 
 for you. You know it is open to you to go to 
 Miss Stirling, or to take that place that old Mrs. 
 Crane offered you, as companion. Nurse Jamie- 
 son and I could stay here, and you could come to 
 see us sometimes." 
 
 " No," said Deborah, " my health is not yet
 
 AT THE GATE. 77 
 
 hurt one particle, and I am resolved to make my 
 living here among the poor. I now want to 
 know what my working sisters need and what 
 is to be done for them. Perhaps, after I have 
 had experience, I may be able to show other 
 people, like Leila Stirling, what to do for the 
 city working-women. It is too soon to confess 
 myself beaten ; I will still persevere. I can ask 
 Mrs. Werner and Mrs. Kegan if they know how 
 I can get work. I have still some money in my 
 purse." 
 
 That money in Deborah's purse dwindled 
 suddenly next day, for Mrs. Werner, with tears 
 in her eyes, told Nurse Jamieson of a friend of 
 hers, a widow with a sick daughter, who had 
 been served with a dispossess warrant, because 
 she could not pay her rent in one room, on a 
 street near them. Mrs. Werner had no idea that 
 any help could be given, but just poured out to 
 Nurse Jamieson the sympathetic sorrow of her 
 heart. The tale seemed to Deborah so harrow- 
 ing that she put on her hat and ran round to the 
 place indicated, where she found men putting 
 women and furniture into the street. She paid 
 the three dollars in arrears and also two dollars 
 in advance, and left the poor " slop-sewers " 
 blessing her for shelter. 
 
 " But your purse is now nearly empty," said 
 her uncle.
 
 78 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "That does not matter. It is worth some- 
 thing to have found out that I have a heart; 
 that I can weep with those that weep. There is 
 a little of the blood of the great Christian family 
 in me still, I see, and I believe I am following 
 Christ." 
 
 That evening Mrs. Kegan's grandson, who 
 supported her, came to the door to ay that 
 " Miss could get a place where he worked in 
 a rubber-shoe factory, in the pasting-room. Ex- 
 perience was not needed ; the work was hard 
 and dirty, wages three dollars a week, rising to 
 four." 
 
 " I will take it," said Deborah, though Uncle 
 Josiah remonstrated that such work was hardly 
 the right kind for her. " It will be time enough 
 to stop if I get something better or find that 
 this hurts me." 
 
 Admitted next day to the " rubber-factory," 
 Deborah found a large ill-lighted room, the air 
 loaded with the smell of benzine, where twenty 
 big girls, in very dirty sacking aprons, were 
 pasting at long tables. The fine, small hands of 
 Dives' daughter had much ado to manage the 
 big sticky brush that was committed to her ; her 
 collar and the large gingham apron of Nurse 
 Jamieson were considered very sumptuous, and 
 she was treated to most inquisitive looks and 
 pressing questions by her fellow-workwomen.
 
 AT THE GATE. 79 
 
 "Are you the lady Dick Kegan says has lost all 
 her money?" "Are you really come down 
 poor?" " I 'd have gone and drowned myself." 
 " This will kill you. Not one in a hundred can 
 stand the benzine." " Her hands will give out 
 first." 
 
 Presently a short girl, with very black eyes 
 and hair and a handsome, gypsy-like face, came 
 in. There was a chorus of exclamations : " Oh, 
 Maggie ! How 's your hand ?" " Did you have 
 your ringer cut off ?" " Have you come into a 
 fortune ?" " Is n't that a new bonnet you have ?" 
 " Whew ! you must be in luck ;what a nice 
 dress you have on !" " Let 's see your hand. 
 Had the finger cut open !" " Well, that 's better 
 than amputation. Amputation means starvation 
 to us working-girls." Thus spoke the girls as 
 they worked. 
 
 " Girls !" cried the young forewoman, " you 
 must go on with your work." 
 
 " Oh we are ! Tell us your news, Maggie." 
 
 " Only I 'm back with my mistress, the lady I 
 lived with, and left to make three dollars a week 
 here, like a fool. You see I would not have my 
 finger cut off ; but it 's been bad so long, with 
 medicine and board and all that, I was clean out 
 of money, and sick and nearly wild, when I met 
 the young lady in the street, and she made me 
 come right home with her. So my mistress said
 
 8o MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 for me to stay at once, at the old wages, and I 
 told her I was n't worth them, with such a hand. 
 And I told her I had no decent clothes left. But 
 she said to come along and do as well as I could. 
 The young lady made me two bonnets, this and 
 another ; and her mother gave me this dress, 
 and a calico, and six aprons. And if ever I 
 leave them again, it will be when my senses 
 leave me. I am out on an errand and stopped 
 in a minute while I had to wait." 
 
 "What was wrong with her hand?" asked 
 Deborah, when Maggie had left. 
 
 " Felon an awful bad felon ; we many of us 
 get felons, from hard pressing on the paste- 
 brush, or rubbing hard on the cloth, as we have 
 to, with our hands. Maggie got hers five months 
 ago. She 's had a dreadful time, but it is not al- 
 ways one finds a nice lady to help you out." 
 
 " She 's better off by half at service," said the 
 pretty, delicate young forewoman. " I 'm going 
 back to service as soon as the lady I like to live 
 with comes home from the South. I shall die of 
 this benzine ; it nearly ruins me. I have lost ten 
 pounds in three weeks, and I am getting so I 
 can neither eat nor sleep." 
 
 " There 's no need for you to do it," said one 
 of the girls. 
 
 " The six dollars tempted me ; I want to do 
 well for my little boy."
 
 AT THE GATE. 8 1 
 
 " Yes ; and get your death and leave him an 
 orphan ; that will be doing well for him !" 
 
 "And you have money, Stella, a thousand 
 dollars," said one ; " your husband's life insur- 
 ance, and the money from his share of the ship 
 he was drowned from." 
 
 " Yes ; but I want to save that to set my boy 
 up in business." 
 
 " Instead, you '11 kill yourself at this work, 
 and some one will abuse the boy and use up all 
 his thousand. Children are ill off without mo- 
 thers. You do n't show good sense." 
 
 The girls worked as they talked, worked me- 
 chanically and swiftly. Some of them had 
 elected to be paid by the piece. These were 
 the experienced workers. They all laughed 
 openly at Deborah for her slowness. She felt 
 dizzy from the smell of the benzine ; her back 
 ached from standing ; her head ached with the 
 noise and heavy air ; her hands and arms ached 
 from dragging the stiff brush with the terribly 
 tenacious paste. 
 
 And oh what a hubbub ! One girl sang 
 snatches of street songs ; two chattered about a 
 low theatre, about which they seemed nearly 
 demented ; several indulged in jokes, the coarse- 
 ness of which was constantly repressed by the 
 forewoman if they became too atrocious ; very 
 vulgar words constantly were resounding in the 
 
 Mr Qroevenor's Daughter: Q
 
 82 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 room, but profanity was repressed by the fore- 
 woman and one or two others. 
 
 " I know where you found that kind of talk," 
 burst out Stella, the young widow, their fore- 
 woman, one day, " from those wicked books and 
 flash papers that you read. Many of you spend 
 dimes and nickels, which laid up would buy you 
 shoes, for filthy trash that fills your mind with 
 reckless thoughts and stifles whatever con- 
 science is left in you ! I have seen you hanging 
 about counters where the stuff is sold, and buy- 
 ing things that are kept hidden under counters 
 and dare not be brought to light !" 
 
 Some of the girls had the grace to blush. 
 " We must read," said one sulkily. 
 
 "Sometimes I think it is a pity you ever 
 learned, you make such a bad use of your knowl- 
 edge," retorted Stella. 
 
 " Bad stuff is cheap, you know," suggested 
 another. 
 
 " So is good reading cheap," cried Deborah ; 
 " there is just as cheap good reading as bad, and 
 the good reading would make you better and 
 more womanly, while this other degrades you. 
 Can one touch pitch and not be defiled ?"
 
 CRUMBS. 83 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 CRUMBS. 
 
 " Sooner or later I too may passively take the print 
 Of the golden age. Why not ? I have neither hope nor trust : 
 May make my heart as a mill-stone, set my face like flint, 
 Cheat and be cheated and die. Who knows ? We are ashes 
 and dust." 
 
 THE tales which Dick Kegan had told at the 
 rubber-factory in regard to Miss Grosvenor's 
 former great wealth and the sudden loss of for- 
 tune which reduced her to the ranks of working- 
 girls made her conspicuous in the pasting-room. 
 Her new companions discussed her and her 
 affairs openly, with refreshing frankness. 
 
 " I 'm glad you lost your money," said one. 
 " Serves you right. All the rich folks ought to 
 lose their money. It is all stolen from the poor. 
 What right has one person to be rolling in gold 
 while another rolls in mud ? You had more 
 than you deserved of being fed on the fat of the 
 land and dressed in silks and satins ! It just 
 makes me mad to see these rich folks going 
 about with their noses sniffed up, despising us 
 poor"bnes. You did that, I know." 
 
 " I am sure I did not," said Deborah.
 
 84 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Well, were you sorry for them and kind 
 and trying to help ?" 
 
 " No," said Deborah honestly, " I never knew 
 what need there was, and I just never thought 
 about poor people at all." 
 
 " Hm spent all your time thinking about 
 your own precious self ! Well, now you '11 have 
 a chance to think about yourself in another 
 way that your legs are numb, and your back is 
 like to break in two, and your fingers hurt so 
 you can't sleep. Perhaps that will teach you to 
 regard poor folks more than if they were sticks 
 and stones of the street." 
 
 " Being poor do n't make people kind-heart- 
 ed," spoke up another girl. " There 's Mrs. 
 Frankley. She was as bad off as we are when 
 she was a young girl. Did slop-sewing, and was 
 as poor as Job's turkey. Then, as she was pret- 
 ty, Mr. Frankley married her, and he got rich and 
 they just roll in wealth. She plays now at being 
 charitable ; but she is so scornful and domineer- 
 ing that I 'd rather die than be helped by her. 
 One real delicate girl, who was out of work, she 
 got a place in a cigar factory for, and the doctors 
 said she 'd die if she stayed there ; but Mrs. 
 Frankley said if the girl was so proud and self- 
 willed that she would n't take what was given 
 her, she would do nothing more for her. A poor 
 girl hasn't any right to live, in her ideas!"
 
 CRUMBS. 85 
 
 " You think it is very bad in this country," 
 said a middle-aged English woman, " but here 
 the poor have some chance to get rich. In my 
 country people are rich and great because they 
 are born so ; and when one is born low down 
 he has to stay down. Now here folks can at 
 least hope. There 's one text in the Bible that 
 ought to be preached from every Sunday. If 
 it was, I 'd go to church. ' What mean ye that 
 ye beat my people to pieces and grind the faces 
 of the poor? saiththe Lord God of hosts.' But 
 the parsons never touch on that. If religion 
 was more than a pretending, if folks really be- 
 lieved that there was one Father in heaven, and 
 all people were His children and ought to help 
 each other, things would get straightened up. 
 But no ; they are religious for themselves, just 
 as they are rich for themselves. I declare it 
 makes me mad ! I suppose," and she turned 
 fiercely to Deborah, " that you called yourself 
 religious, and never thought of the poor !" 
 
 " I was very wrong ; that was because I had 
 too little religion." 
 
 " Stuff ! If you had your money back to-day, 
 you 'd be as bad to-morrow." 
 
 " Was it because of the rich and poor and the 
 hard times that you came to this country ?" de- 
 manded another girl, " ' out of the frying-pan into 
 the fire !' What do you think I saw yesterday ?
 
 86 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Three children down of scarlet fever ill one 
 room ; no lights ; father bent double with rheu- 
 matism, and has to sleep on the floor, so the sick 
 children can lie on the bed. No money, fuel 
 nearly gone, and the poor mother crying, ' Oh if 
 I only had a light ! Oh if I had some candles ! 
 I 'm afraid my children will die in the dark, and 
 I can't have a last look at them !' Is it such 
 trouble you came to this country to share, Mrs. 
 Hodge?" 
 
 " It may be bad here, but it 's worse there," 
 said Mrs. Hodge doggedly. " Here there 's hope 
 for the children, a chance for the boys. I have a 
 grand-nephew, Oliver, that has the makings of a 
 good man in him, if he do n't get led off. He 
 may get on in the world and help the rest of 
 us only he 's pulled down by a bad step-father, 
 poor lad ! " 
 
 " Drink, I suppose," said Stella. " Drink is 
 at the bottom of the trouble and poverty in this 
 country, most of it at least. If folks are very 
 low down, you can find drink at the beginning 
 of the misery. The worst of it is that those 
 who get the hard part of the suffering are not 
 the ones who did the sinning." 
 
 "And how do you think you'll like being 
 poor?" said "big Jean," a handsome Scotch 
 girl with short red curls. She had a mocking 
 smile on her face as she turned to Deborah.
 
 CRUMBS. 87 
 
 "I sha'n't like it," said Deborah fiercely; 
 " but if there are such things as these I 'd rather 
 hear it and feel it, and have my blood boil with 
 anger and sorrow over it, than go on knowing 
 nothing about it, doing nothing about it, when 
 the Lord expects me to do something." 
 
 " Oh, the Lord. Then you do pretend to be 
 religious! Well, see if you can keep it up 
 among us. The owner of this factory is sup- 
 posed to be religious also. Wait till pay-night 
 and see if you think much of practical piety 
 then. If you do n't get treated right you can 
 go to church and pray for your enemies. I sup- 
 pose you do go to church ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; do n't you ? " 
 
 " Not much. When would I get my washing 
 and my mending done, or take a breath of fresh 
 air in the Park?" 
 
 " I lie in bed all day Sunday the year round," 
 said another worker. " I do n't want to go to 
 the Park and see other folks all dressed up to 
 kill, and me left in tatters." 
 
 " Well, I go to church in the morning and 
 evening, and in the afternoon I teach in a 
 Sunday-school," said Deborah. 
 
 " You '11 find you can't do that, once you 
 have worked long enough to get real tired out," 
 cried several. 
 
 " What do you teach in Sunday-school ? ' Do
 
 88 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 as you 'd be done by '? And for example tell 
 how good and liberal you used to be when you 
 had plenty?" 
 
 " You wind up," said the big Scotch girl. 
 " Dick Kegan says she is awful kind, and gives 
 away things and pays rent for poor folks that 
 is turned out, and nursed a sick woman in 
 their court. She a'n't half bad ; if she had 
 been she'd have kept her money. The mean 
 ones have all the luck in this world. I remem- 
 ber when I was in Scotland, a wee girlie, my old 
 mother kept Sunday like that; and evenings, 
 when the win' soughed about the house, we sat 
 by the chimney lug and she told me tales out of 
 the Bible, and about John Knox and Mary 
 Queen of Scots and Bloody Mary and the rest." 
 
 " A Scotch woman, Nurse Jamieson, lives 
 with me," said Deborah, looking at her. " Per- 
 haps you 'd like to know her." 
 
 "I don't care to know any decent folks," 
 said Jean. " Do you know that I drink ? and 
 when I get drunk I 'm a terror ! I 've been to 
 the Island. The very night I got back I went 
 to the bank and drew fifty dollars, and got a lot 
 of girls together, and we had a big supper and a 
 spree." 
 
 " What !" cried Deborah, " a woman act so ?" 
 
 "You're what they call out West a tender- 
 foot !" sneered a girl.
 
 CRUMBS. 89 
 
 "She knows what they say in the Wild 
 West," shouted her neighbor, " because she sits 
 up nights reading nickel novels and blood and 
 fire stories, about women scouts and cattle 
 king women, that shoot folks right and left, and 
 haven't the fear of God or man before their 
 eyes." 
 
 " Half the mischief among you girls is done 
 by bad books," spoke up Mrs. Hodge. " You 're 
 like what you feed your minds on. Bad books 
 and whiskey, there 's your ruin." 
 
 " I should think it hardly paid to spend fifty 
 dollars that way," said Deborah, turning to Jean. 
 
 " So I thought. So I bolted for the sea-shore, 
 and^ told my story to one of the Temperance 
 women, and got her to take me for a cook. She 
 was mighty kind to me had me in to prayers 
 every morning. I couldn't get one drop of 
 drink. Five weeks I stood it ; then I told her it 
 was no use ; I 'd go back to the city if I had to 
 walk. So I went, and spent my fifteen dollars of 
 wages on a big drink the night I got back. Now 
 I 've been good two months, and I mean to break 
 out again." 
 
 " You 'd better get some one to lock you up," 
 said Deborah, horrified. 
 
 " Wont do any good. I Ve tried every- 
 thing." 
 
 Deborah shook her head. " Surely you did
 
 90 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 not try in the right way, looking to our blessed 
 Lord to help you and keep you from falling. In 
 his strength we stand, Jean." 
 
 " I did the best I knew. I thought of my 
 dead mither, an' I went down to the Bethel, and 
 the singing made me cry. The preacher prayed 
 so I got down on my knees and cried out loud, 
 and if that is no getting religion what is ?" 
 
 " Were you sorry for your sins, and did you 
 feel how they had wounded Christ, and did you 
 lay them on him and ask that he should wash 
 you in his blood and keep you clean?" 
 
 " No, I didna. I hae clean forgot a' my 
 mither tellt me aboot Christ the Lord." 
 
 " She was in a factory that got afire, and no 
 escapes had been provided, and some lives were 
 lost ; and she was badly burned on the side and 
 legs, and was in a hospital for a year and got 
 twelve hundred dollars damages ; and she 's 
 squandered it on drinking till it is nearly gone," 
 explained Deborah's neighbor. 
 
 " I wish I could get a chance of getting 
 burned and getting all that money damages," 
 said a girl. " I 'd go get a little place in a village, 
 and get married, and live in peace, and bring up 
 my family decently. Life would be worth some- 
 thing then." 
 
 " Could so much be done with twelve hun- 
 dred dollars?" thought Miss Grosvenor. There
 
 CRUMBS. 9! 
 
 was a noise, an exclamation ; one of the girls 
 had fainted. " Take her into the hall by a 
 window," said the forewoman. " This room 
 ought to be ventilated. It is killing us all." 
 
 " Why not speak to the employers, and have 
 it ventilated and made decent ?" said Deborah. 
 
 " Oh, you innocent !" sneered a paster, " do n't 
 you know that for two or three or four dollars 
 a week we are bought body and soul ? Suppose 
 we are killed ? What then ? Working girls are 
 plenty ; room for the next !" 
 
 For two weeks Deborah remained in the 
 pasting-room. Uncle Josiah and Nurse Jamie- 
 son watched her closely and begged her to leave 
 it and wait for something better. " I will leave 
 it when I find something better," said Deborah. 
 " How would other girls do ? Keep on if it 
 killed them, I suppose." 
 
 " But you are not quite in that case," said 
 her uncle. 
 
 Privately Uncle Josiah instructed Dick 
 Kegan to inform himself as to what went on in 
 the pasting-room, and if anything particularly 
 unpleasant happened to Miss Grosvenor, to let 
 him know at once. " Ay, I understand," said 
 Dick. Meanwhile Deborah, having entered the 
 pasting-room on Thursday morning, went with 
 the rest on Saturday night for her wages a dol- 
 lar and a half for half a week's work.
 
 92 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " D. Grosvenor," said the paying-clerk. 
 " Well, let 's see. You broke the handle of a paste- 
 brush ; thirty-five cents for that." 
 
 "It was an old brush, and never cost over 
 twenty-five cents when it was new," said Deborah 
 with indignation. 
 
 "That is none of your business," said the 
 clerk. " If you pay high you '11 learn to be care- 
 ful. Late two mornings and one noon, five 
 minutes once, ten minutes twice ; fined for late- 
 ness thirty cents." 
 
 " It was not late by the city clock ; your clock 
 is kept > fast. And my time is not paid for at 
 ten cents an hour ; that would be a dollar a day 
 instead of fifty cents," replied Deborah. 
 
 "If you don't like it you can lump it," said 
 the clerk. "Take it or leave it; pasters are 
 plenty." He gave her eighty-five cents, saying, 
 " Move on ; too much talk from you." 
 
 How angry was Dives' daughter at this treat- 
 ment ! Her fellow-workwomen instructed her. 
 " You can't make them play fair ; it 's no use 
 to talk. That 's the way they grind us down !" 
 
 After three girls had fainted in the pasting- 
 room, Deborah announced her intention of going 
 to remonstrate with the owner. The other 
 pasters awaited with joy, interest, and covert 
 scorn the result of the remonstrance of Dives' 
 daughter in behalf of sanitary provisions.
 
 CRUMBS. 93 
 
 Deborah's boots and gloves, dress and hat, 
 were black and neat, her bearing that of the 
 child of "the classes." She appeared at the 
 front door of the office, and the owner rose up 
 with a bow. " Did you wish to see me ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Deborah, " I came to tell you, 
 what perhaps you do not know, that your past- 
 ing room is in such a terrible condition, from 
 want of fresh air, from dirt and the smell of 
 benzine, that the health of the girls is being 
 ruined. They faint frequently. Mere human- 
 ity demands sanitary improvements in the room." 
 
 " I am sorry you came on this errand, mad- 
 am. We employers are much harassed by our 
 employees, and when the ladies of the city take 
 upon themselves inspection and interference 
 with matters where they are unacquainted, it is 
 very trying to us. If my girls do not like the 
 place, let them leave it ; there are others." 
 
 " But they must live. They leave you, and 
 work is scarce ; they stand on the streets. Why 
 not on your part treat them humanely ?" 
 
 " I really regret that a lady should meddle 
 on hearsay." 
 
 " I am not meddling on hearsay. I know 
 what I am speaking about. I work in that room. 
 I am one of the pasters." 
 
 The man looked confounded, then recovered 
 himself
 
 94 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " If that is so, let me say that I do not allow 
 my hands to dictate to me. Good-day. You 
 will be fined for lateness." 
 
 The girls up stairs greeted the self-appointed 
 ambassadress with ironical laughter. " How do 
 you like owners ?" " That 's the way rich ones 
 treat poor ones." " Did he ask the honor of 
 dancing with you, or give you a bouquet, as 
 you're accustomed to have gentlemen do?" 
 "Well, it was plucky of you, all the same." 
 " But it wont work." " Why did n't you try a 
 little Scripture on him ? " 
 
 Deborah had been two weeks in the pasting- 
 room when one noon Dick Kegan waited on 
 the corner for Uncle Josiah. " It wont do ; 
 you '11 have to take her out. This morning she 
 fainted in that den." 
 
 Uncle Josiah turned pale and hurried home. 
 " Deborah, you are not going back to that place. 
 You fainted to-day." 
 
 "Who told you?" 
 
 " Dick Kegan. That ends it." 
 
 " Other girls faint and go back ; they have 
 to." 
 
 "You don't have to yet. You'll wait for 
 more reasonable occupation. I was just won- 
 dering how I should use an extra five dollars 
 that I've come into. We'll take a street-car 
 and ride all around the city, outside of the city,
 
 CRUMBS. 95 
 
 and end up with taking an oyster tea. Nurse 
 Jamieson, you need not look for us back to tea." 
 
 "But, uncle! other girls working girls 
 can't have such treats." 
 
 " That is no reason you should not. Besides, 
 brought up as you were, you need it. Come 
 on, Deborah, do as I say. Next week will be 
 Christmas. We '11 go where our attic things are 
 stored and get out some more, and we'll buy 
 candy and fruit and clothing and so on, with 
 ten dollars that have been given to me for the 
 purpose, and we '11 get ready for a Christmas 
 tree at my Mission the first one for that 
 slum." 
 
 Deborah came back from that outing looking 
 quite herself, but she recalled a year past and 
 thought how scornfully she would have rejected 
 a street-car, oysters in a plain restaurant, and 
 buying flannel, jackets, shirts, coarse woollen 
 socks, and little hoods and coats for the wild 
 brood that came irregularly to Uncle Josiah's 
 " Day star Mission." 
 
 "The search for work is to begin again," 
 sighed Deborah. 
 
 " You '11 rest a week first," said her uncle. 
 
 " I 've earned four dollars and ninety-five 
 cents in two weeks," said Deborah, " and if I 
 rest a week I shall be just a dollar and five cents 
 behind with the rent money."
 
 c/> MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Never mind. We will find some way of 
 making it up," said Uncle Josiah carelessly. 
 
 In a day or two a note came to Deborah 
 from the Consolidated Charities, where she had 
 left her application for work a month before. 
 An assistant was needed at the Day Nursery on 
 Blondel Street, in their ward. Wages two dol- 
 lars and a half, breakfast and dinner. No work 
 on Sunday, as then the children were at home, 
 except three or four, for whom the matron cared. 
 
 Nurse Jamieson and Deborah went to look 
 at it. Deborah knew no more about the care of 
 children than she did about the raising of bees. 
 But she must do something. The little brick 
 house was clean, the floors were well scrubbed, 
 the bare little dining-room was neat ; the school- 
 room, where a young girl held a kindergarten, 
 was quite bright and pretty. Up stairs were 
 the matron's neat room and two nursery rooms, 
 one full of little cots, the other provided with 
 rugs, toys, and chairs. In the third story was the 
 housemaid's room, the bath-room, the clothes- 
 room. The matron, housemaid, and assistant 
 nurse were expected to do all the work for the 
 house and twenty-five children from five years 
 old down to two weeks old. The kindergarten 
 teacher taught the older ten three hours each 
 morning, five days in a week, for six dollars a 
 week and her dinner.
 
 CRUMBS. 97 
 
 "Do you know anything about children?" 
 asked the matron. 
 
 " No, nothing," said Deborah. 
 
 " You look sensible and capable," said the 
 matron, " but not very companionable." 
 
 Deborah smiled. " I might learn to be com- 
 panionable." 
 
 " She looks what she is, a warld too guid for 
 the work !" cried Nurse Jamieson angrily. 
 
 " Hush, Agnes dear," said Deborah. " No 
 one is too good for the work of taking care of 
 little children." 
 
 "That is right," said the matron, "'for 
 whoso receiveth one such little child,' our 
 Lord says, ' receiveth me.' Well, you can come 
 and try it. Our last nurse was a nice girl ; and 
 one of the managers took her for her own 
 nursery, at three and a half a week." 
 
 "What are your duties, Deborah, in your 
 new place ?" asked her uncle after a few days. 
 
 Deborah laughed. " I get there at half-past 
 six, and then the mothers begin to hand the 
 children in. Most of them have to be scrubbed 
 and combed ; all of them have their dresses, 
 aprons, shoes and stockings changed for nursery 
 clothing. The little bits of ones we lay in 
 cradles or cribs and give them their bottles. 
 Then at eight o'clock the matron and I go to 
 breakfast with the rest. We have coffee, por- 
 
 Mr. Orosvenor's Daughter. 'I
 
 98 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ridge, potatoes, milk-gravy, and bread and but. 
 ter. The children drink milk and we get coffee. 
 All day long we rock babies, wrestle with the 
 colic, adjust quarrels, bathe bumps, dose the 
 sick ones, dress burns or cuts that they get at 
 home, put liniment on sore throats. Almost 
 all of the children have something the matter 
 with them. Bad fare, bad air, hard work, 
 worry, do n't produce, it seems, very healthy or 
 merry children. But we have some real pretty, 
 sweet-tempered ones. The air is kept good 
 and the house is comfortably heated. I have 
 found out that I can sing crying babies to sleep, 
 that I know how to explain pictures and to tell 
 stories. I can even build up a tower of blocks ! 
 You told me to earn twenty dollars a month. I 
 earn ten and two meals daily. After I pay our 
 rent I shall have two dollars a month for cloth- 
 ing. Will that keep me in shoes, I wonder? "
 
 " SON, REMEMBER." 99 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 
 
 " According to metaphysical creed, 
 To the earliest books that children read 
 
 For much good or bad they are debtors. 
 But before with their A, B, C's they start 
 There are things in morals, as well as heart, 
 That play a very important part 
 
 Impressions before the letters." 
 
 " WHAT ! you here ? " It was Sunday morn- 
 ing, and Deborah answered the front-door bell of 
 the " Day Nursery." The matron was not well, 
 and Deborah had come to take her place for part 
 of the day, as ten children whose mothers 
 worked in hotels and restaurants were left at the 
 Nursery over Sabbath. When Deborah opened 
 the door she found on the steps, waiting, the 
 English woman, Mrs. Hodge, who had worked 
 in the pasting-room. Deborah was now becom- 
 ing accustomed to uncourtly greetings which 
 would have shocked Miss Grosvenor. To her 
 surprise, she felt her heart warming towards this 
 big uncouth creature whose hard life she under- 
 stood from experiences of its pains, and whose 
 sufferings she had shared. 
 
 " I am here, Mrs. Hodge ; come in. What 
 can be done for you?"
 
 ioo MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " My niece that I live with was taken to the 
 hospital last night, and has left two little chil- 
 dren one six months, one two and a half years 
 old on my hands. I 'm the only one now to do 
 for them, for her man ran away just before the 
 baby was born. There 's a boy that gets two 
 and a quarter a week, and if I can get the chil- 
 dren nursed, so I can keep on at the factory, 
 we '11 do." 
 
 " The Nursery is pretty full," said Deborah, 
 " but I '11 go to the matron and see that she takes 
 your babies ; it is a desperate case surely. And 
 how are you getting on at the factory ?" 
 
 " It 's a bit better now. Just after you left a 
 long piece came out in two of the city papers, 
 all about our place. It told about the bad air and 
 the girls fainting, how two had died and nobody 
 cared, and it had a big heading, ' LEGAL MUR- 
 DER,' ' MODERN BUTCHERY,' ' KILL THE GIRLS, 
 THEY 'RE PLENTY,' and so on. Oh ! I tell you it 
 was real fine reading ! And folks began to talk, 
 and a committee came to see, and one girl by good 
 luck fainted right before their eyes. So such a 
 fuss was made that the place was cleaned up 
 and ventilated, and we do a bit better. Did you 
 put that in the paper, miss?" 
 
 " No, indeed, I know nothing about it," and 
 then Deborah remembered that she had seen 
 Uncle Josiah writing sheets of foolscap late one
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." IOI 
 
 evening, just after she left the pasting-room. 
 Perhaps Uncle Josiah had taken it in hand. But 
 she did not ask. 
 
 " May I bring the children in to show you ?" 
 asked Mrs. Hodge. " I left them on the curb- 
 stone at the corner." 
 
 " By all means get them ; they '11 freeze 
 there this cold day. I will go up and speak 
 about them to the matron while you are gone." 
 
 " We '11 make room for them," said Deborah, 
 as she admitted Mrs. Hodge and a pair of half- 
 tidy, healthy-looking babies, with rosy English 
 cheeks, blooming like hardy exotics among the 
 paler American children. 
 
 " Boys," said Mrs. Hodge, " both of 'em, and 
 I 'm glad of that ; women and girls have it 
 hard, too hard, in this life. Their names are 
 Edward and Reuben." 
 
 " I think the men have it about as bad ; they 
 seem to have more temptations, or yield more 
 to them, to commit crimes. Think of the great 
 penitentiaries full !" cried Deborah. 
 
 " Yes, but did you ever go to the Women's 
 Penitentiary ? Sixteen hundred women, from 
 sixteen to seventy years old, in for long terms 
 and short terms. That's a sight! There are 
 children born in prison who see no other place 
 till they are five or six years old, poor things. 
 That 's a lot for the sons and daughters of
 
 102 MR. GROSVENOR S DAUGHTER. 
 
 women to be born to, miss ! Who 'd want to be 
 a mother at that rate ? I sat down and cried 
 hearty when these babies come to town. What 
 are they like to come to ?" A great compassion 
 for these two babes of " the masses " over- 
 whelmed Deborah's soul. She had been behind 
 the scenes ; she knew the privation, the misery, 
 the temptation that would meet them on every 
 hand. " Mrs. Hodge," she said, " the very great- 
 est misery is being wicked. The bad man 
 makes himself wretched and increases the 
 wretchedness of others. Look at the father of 
 these children. If he had been honest, good, 
 industrious, and had stood by his wife like a 
 man, she and these little ones would have been 
 safe and comfortable." 
 
 " Ay. You speak like a book, miss." 
 " Then your first effort must be to bring up 
 these little fellows to be good, to be sober, dili- 
 gent, honest. They will be in the midst of all 
 kinds of temptation, and unless you get help 
 from God and try to bring them up in his fear, 
 they will fall away. Don't let them go to de- 
 struction, Mrs. Hodge. Go to the church with 
 them ; pray for them ; teach them about God. 
 Read the Bible to them. You '11 help them and 
 yourself that way." 
 
 " I 'm not much of a hand at religion ; I 've 
 got hardened seeing so much misery. But I
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." IO3 
 
 wish, miss, you could try your hand on these 
 boys' older half-brother. He's fifteen, and a 
 pretty good boy, but now just at the age where 
 boys are led off, and unless some one takes hold 
 of him pretty sharp, he will go to the dogs like 
 the rest. Oliver his name is, Oliver Hunt." 
 
 " Do you suppose he would go to the Mission 
 with me this afternoon, if I should call for him ?" 
 
 There 's no telling. But if you '11 let me 
 know the time you '11 come for him, 1 11 try 
 and keep him at home. I '11 make him a potato- 
 cake ; that will hold him till you get there. I '11 
 send him after a dozen of potatoes as soon as I 
 get back." 
 
 "Why it's Sunday!" exclaimed Deborah. 
 
 " Eh ! Do n't you buy things Sunday? Well 
 there's plenty of shops open all day in our 
 quarter, more shops than dimes to buy with. I 
 do wish you could get hold of my boy, miss. 
 There is something strong-like in you, and 
 maybe you could make a man of him. Just 
 think of the difference it will make, a hearty 
 fellow like that, with perhaps sixty or seventy 
 years before him, whether he 's bad or good !" 
 
 Deborah's face glowed at this suggestion. 
 What is that multitude of sins, hidden or pre- 
 vented, by "whoso converts a sinner from the 
 error of his ways !" And youth is the age of 
 hope.
 
 104 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I have heard you speak of this boy, Oliver 
 I think you called him. I will do all I can for 
 him, Mrs. Hodge." 
 
 " Ay ; keep him away from bad men and 
 from drink. Take him to the Mission ; see 
 what religion will do for him. Only, for my 
 part, I don't take much stock in religion that 
 allows such goings-on as I see reg'lar." 
 
 " Religion does not allow it. True religion 
 would prevent these miseries and evils, for the 
 laws and spirit of the gospel are all in behalf of 
 helpfulness and benevolence. The trouble is 
 that there is too little of true religion, not 
 enough of the tender, helpful Christ spirit ; our 
 religion is not deeply rooted in our lives, not 
 rich enough in fruit-bearing. Oh I once was 
 rich and could have helped you ! Now I can do 
 so little !" 
 
 "It helps me just to talk with you," said 
 Mrs. Hodge gratefully. 
 
 " If I had back my wealth would I be an 
 idler as before ?" Deborah asked herself as she 
 dismissed Mrs. Hodge, telling her to bring the 
 children around to the Nursery early in the 
 morning. 
 
 That afternoon at two o'clock Deborah 
 climbed the dirty stairs leading to Mrs. Hodge's 
 rooms. Evidently the place had been newly 
 swept and garnished in expectation of her visit.
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 10$ 
 
 The best room, the one that had the rag carpet 
 on it, was in possession of the children ; the boy 
 Oliver was walking up and down trying to put 
 the baby to sleep. In the kitchen, yet wet from 
 a mopping, Mrs. Hodge was washing the frying- 
 pan wherein she had cooked her potato-cakes. 
 
 " Here 's Oliver," said Mrs. Hodge. " Oliver, 
 it 's you the lady came for." 
 
 Oliver looked angry : in his experience ladies 
 ran about after very naughty boys and gave 
 them reproofs and peppermints and took them 
 to schools where they were "faulted." Oliver 
 felt himself a man ; he was earning his bread, 
 and since his step-father decamped no one tried 
 to rule him. 
 
 Deborah saw that she must gain favor. She 
 cast a radiant smile on Oliver, such as she had 
 not often vouchsafed to golden youth in her 
 days of splendor. 
 
 " How well you handle that child ! " she 
 cried. " Do you know, once I read that being 
 able to handle a baby well was a true mark of a 
 gentleman." 
 
 " You can't even me with a gentleman," said 
 the boy, flushing. 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh well I 'm poor and live among poor 
 folks, and 
 
 " Listen to this
 
 106 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 4 The best of men 
 
 That e'er wore earth about him was a sufferer 
 A soft, meek, patient, humble, tranquil, spirit : 
 The first true gentleman that ever breathed.' 
 
 Do you know whom I mean, Oliver? " 
 
 " No, miss." 
 
 " The Lord Jesus Christ who was both God 
 and man ; he was poor and lived among the 
 poor. He was tender with little children. I 
 like to think of Him taking children in his 
 arms and blessing them: calling a little child 
 and ' setting him in the midst.' " 
 
 " Yes, miss ; I 've seen the picture of that in 
 the shop windows ! " 
 
 "So you like pictures? And do you like 
 singing ? " 
 
 " Ay, when I can hear the words out fairly 
 like." 
 
 " This afternoon I am going to sing at the 
 Daystar Mission. I think you would like it 
 there. I came to invite you to go with me." 
 
 "Yes, Oliver lad, give me the baby an' go 
 with miss." 
 
 " I 'm not fine enough," said Oliver, survey- 
 ing himself. 
 
 " Indeed, you are," said Deborah. " We have 
 very few at the Daystar as well dressed as you 
 are. If you '11 come, perhaps some, seeing you 
 go in, may think it respectable enough for them
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." IO/ 
 
 to come too. I 'm sure you '11 like it, and be a 
 help. Can you sing ? " 
 
 "You should just hear him troll out the 
 Waits I taught him," said Mrs. Hodge proudly. 
 " When he was a bit lad of five, in England, I 
 took him round with the Waits one Christmas, 
 and the quality gave him five shillings." 
 
 " Quality ! No more quality than we are," 
 cried Oliver crossly. 
 
 "We can all of us be of a good quality, I 
 hope," said Deborah. 
 
 "Go with miss," urged Dame Hodge; "you 
 are fine and clean. He is mighty particular 
 about being clean, miss." 
 
 "Clean outside and clean inside is it?" said 
 Deborah, with a keen bright look that quite cap- 
 tivated Oliver. 
 
 " If I might do my hair a bit and black my 
 shoes," he replied, laying the child gently on 
 the patch-work quilt of the bed. 
 
 " Certainly, I '11 wait," said Deborah. " Mrs. 
 Hodge, who else are in this house ? Any one 
 that I know ? " 
 
 " Well, big Jean, from the pasting-room ; do 
 you mind her ? the big girl with the close-crop- 
 ped red curls." 
 
 " Oh, is Jean here ! I want to see her. I have 
 thought of her so often, and last night I dreamed 
 of her, and I woke feeling that I had neglected
 
 io8 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 an opportunity in not looking her up. But, do 
 you know, I 'm pretty much of a coward, and I 
 heard so much about her getting drunk and 
 being furious." 
 
 "Ay. She's had one outbreak since you 
 left the room, and two weeks back she came 
 here, just to get out of temptation of some 
 drinking girls, I do believe. Her room is oppo- 
 site." 
 
 " I '11 go and speak to her while Oliver gets 
 ready." 
 
 Mrs. Hodge approved. She wanted a clear 
 coast that she might give Oliver his mother's 
 best handkerchief and necktie to make him 
 fine. 
 
 Deborah knocked at the opposite door. 
 
 "Come in then!" said big Jean. "You've 
 hunted me out, have you ? " 
 
 Deborah opened the door. The room was 
 most desolate. Across the foot of the bed lay 
 Jean, partly on her face, her strong white arms 
 flung up over her head. She spoke without see- 
 ing who entered. " I came here to get rid of 
 ye ; but Sunday 's my worst day, and Satan knew 
 it and he sent you along. That's the way it 
 goes." 
 
 " God sent me," said Deborah, speaking out 
 clearly. "Jean, if a soul is striving against 
 evil, it is because the Spirit of God strives in it.
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 109 
 
 Is Sunday your worst day ? Come then with 
 me where you will get help." 
 
 Jean suddenly sat up and looked at her. 
 "You, miss!" She was about to cry, "You, 
 Deborah," as to her other acquaintances, but 
 Deborah in her severely plain but good Sun- 
 day gear subdued her. 
 
 " I came for Oliver, Mrs. Hodge's nephew, to 
 go to Mission School. Mrs. Hodge said you 
 were here, and I came for you too. Come." 
 
 Jean gave a hard laugh. " Me at Mission ! 
 At a bar, more likely." 
 
 " Come," said Deborah insistently. " I 'm 
 going to sing ' My Ain Countree ' and ' The 
 Land o' the Leal." Jean hung her head. " And 
 ' The Lord my Shepherd is,' added Deborah. 
 
 " My mither used to cradle me wi' that," said 
 Jean, looking up. 
 
 "Perhaps the Good Shepherd is using it 
 now to call his wandering sheep home." 
 
 " Go away and leave me," said Jean. " I 'm 
 no good. I can't be helped. The craze for 
 drink is strong in me. I just cast myself here 
 and cried out, ' God, let me die !' " 
 
 " And perhaps he has answered, ' Live, my 
 child.' Come, Jean." 
 
 " I 'm not fit to be seen in the street wi' you." 
 
 The soul of Deborah was seized with a 
 strong passion of saving another soul. She went
 
 1 10 MR. GROSVENORS DAUGHTER. 
 
 to Jean and laid her small gloved hand upon 
 her shoulder. " Come, I cannot let you perish 
 for whom Christ died. Come, Jean, I beg. 
 Come to the Mission. Come home to tea with me. 
 Nurse Jamieson is Scotch. She will bring back 
 to you mother and home." 
 
 So Deborah went to the Daystar Mission 
 with those two, Oliver Hunt and Jean. What 
 would she have thought a year before if she 
 could have foreseen herself so accompanied ? 
 
 "Jean," she said, "I want you to make up 
 your mind that I am going to look after you." 
 
 " You '11 have a hard time of it," said Jean. 
 "Sunday is my worst day, having nothing to 
 do ; but I 'm only a plague at the best of times. 
 I keep a body always uncertain when I 'm 
 sober wondering when I will get drunk ; and 
 when I 'm drunk wondering when I '11 get sober. 
 Why were people made so! I feel as if God 
 himself couldn't help me ! " 
 
 " But he can ; nothing is impossible with 
 God." 
 
 " I say," said Oliver carelessly, " looks kind 
 of sneaking to let a habit get the better of you 
 and make you a slave." 
 
 " So it does," said Deborah, " but where do 
 habits begin ? Any one who does what is evi- 
 dently wrong swears, listens to vile talk, breaks 
 the Sabbath, lies, cheats, whether once or often-
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." Ill 
 
 er may be laying the foundation of a habit ; and 
 it seems to be, as you say, rather sneaking to do 
 what we know to be wrong and that we need 
 not do." 
 
 Oliver's ears grew very red : the conversation 
 had taken an unexpected turn and was nearing 
 home! 
 
 Later Deborah found time to say to him pri- 
 vately, " Oliver, watch over Jean ; go and talk 
 to her in the evenings ; ask Mrs. Hodge to in- 
 vite her into your rooms. If you see her on the 
 street, walk home with her. You may be help- 
 ing God to save a soul." 
 
 " What I ? I help God, miss ? Oh surely ! " 
 stammered the boy. Life for him had taken on 
 a new dignity. 
 
 During January and February Dives' daugh- 
 ter was assistant in the Day Nursery. In the 
 latter part of February measles of an aggravated 
 type broke out in the neighborhood of Romaine 
 Court. All the children at the Nursery were 
 seized ; mothers lost their places by being kept 
 from their work to care for the sick babies, and 
 a deeper poverty complicated their disasters. 
 Soon the unsanitary condition of the homes told 
 in an outbreak of scarlet fever and diphtheria : 
 foul sinks and closets, clogged drains, dirty walls, 
 floors rotting from long neglect or washing with 
 filthy water, windows that would not open,
 
 ii2 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 clothing worn until it fell to tatters these lay 
 as the background of the pestilence. The 
 Board of Health distributed leaflets that were 
 for the most part unread, sent people about to 
 whitewash and fumigate, and the Dispensaries 
 were besieged ; but what were these efforts 
 against a scourge that had been bred in the 
 midst of long neglect, and was now practically 
 fostered by ignorance ? 
 
 Deborah's work at the Nursery was for the 
 present done. Only three or four motherless 
 little ones were kept there under care of the 
 matron. But there was work enough for 
 Deborah, work into which duty and compassion 
 drew her, for it seemed as if there was scarcely 
 a house where there was not one dead. How 
 pitiful were those homes, where on a board, or 
 on two chairs, or on the sole bed, some little 
 rigid form lay under a rag of white cloth, while 
 around its stillness the daily toil of cooking, 
 washing, scrubbing must go on, else where 
 would be bread for the other mouths ? 
 
 Deborah unconsciously was taking lessons 
 in nursing in these doleful days, and was over- 
 coming some of her painful squeamishness 
 about the sights and surroundings in these pov- 
 erty-stricken homes. 
 
 "Who is she?" said the Dispensary doctor 
 to Mrs. Werner, after he had found Deborah
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 113 
 
 several times helping the Swede with the baby 
 and little Berta, who were both ill ; and now for 
 the first time Berta had leisure to play with the 
 big doll which had once been Deborah's toy, 
 and which the small feverish hands now clasped 
 and stroked with great delight. 
 
 Mrs. Werner replied, " She rich young lady, 
 play poor. She work ; but have three rooms, 
 and no cook, no wash ; how she be very poor, 
 eh ? Oh she lofley, an' do so much good, what 
 tings she know ; but she not know ferry much. 
 Rich folks is like that, eh ?" 
 
 Going her rounds among families whom she 
 knew because the children had been at the 
 Nursery, Deborah found Mrs. Hodge over- 
 whelmed with the care of two sick little ones. 
 Their mother was still in the hospital. If Mrs. 
 Hodge gave up her work in the pasting-room 
 where would be bread ? 
 
 How were the babies cared for? Oliver, 
 Mrs. Hodge, Jean, took half-days off and nursed 
 the little sufferers, and a woman in the house 
 whose husband took care of his family, so that 
 the mother could give her time to her little 
 ones, would bring two sick babies, and with one 
 in her arms and one laid on chairs, would attend 
 to the two in the bed ! Hard times for babies, 
 these, good people ! At night Jean seemed 
 tireless in sitting up. " I like it," she said to 
 
 Mr GroBvnor's Daughter. 8
 
 ii4 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Deborah. " I get tired out and I slee^> 
 
 and I feel as if I am some good, and I do n't 
 
 think of drinking." 
 
 One evening late Uncle Josiah went to see 
 Mrs. Hodge with Deborah ; the younger baby 
 was at the point of death. Oliver sat with the 
 child on his knees. Tears were in his eyes. 
 
 "You love the little fellow, don't you, Oli- 
 ver?" said Deborah. 
 
 " I like all little children, and cats and dogs 
 and pigeons, and when I think of my mother I 
 love these little chaps; but when I think of 
 their dad, I can't bear 'em, for I hate him. If 
 he comes back I '11 pitch him down stairs. He 
 is a low fellow. He has kicked and hit me his 
 last, you bet !" The boy's face showed an omi- 
 nous passion of wrath. 
 
 "Oliver," said Deborah, "the Bible tells us 
 not to avenge ourselves, but rather to give place 
 unto wrath." 
 
 " I do," said Oliver, " I give it place till I 'm 
 chock full up to the brim and running over 
 with it ! " 
 
 Deborah could not forbear a smile. " Oliver, 
 if you saw a mad dog coming down the street 
 at you, how would you give it place ? " 
 
 " I 'd jump out of the way quicker an' let it 
 goby!" 
 
 " That is the way to give place unto wrath.
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 11$ 
 
 Let it go by. Give it place to pass, not to lodge. 
 That is what God wants of you." 
 
 A low sound from the sick baby's cot at- 
 tracted their attention. " Bless him," said Mrs. 
 Hodge, " he 's going." 
 
 Jean was on her knees by the little one, look- 
 ing earnestly into the glazing eyes and blanch- 
 ing face. " Oh why did n't I go so when I was 
 little ! Why did I live ! Oh how happy the baby 
 is to go before the time of sin ! Wont it be 
 strange to wake out of this room into heaven !" 
 
 Deborah stood awed. She found death very 
 pitiful here. 
 
 They went away home leaving the little one 
 with folded hands, laid in a clean white gown, 
 on the only table, and all the weary family lying 
 asleep around it. 
 
 " Deborah," said Uncle Josiah, to divert her 
 mind, " you have some teaching ability ; you 
 explained that point well to Oliver." 
 
 " Yes," said Deborah humbly, " I might 
 teach if I really knew anything. All I know is 
 a product of association. I cannot conjugate a 
 French or an English verb correctly. I doubt 
 if I could do an example in compound multipli- 
 cation. It is a great misfortune to be brought 
 up as I was." 
 
 "You are learning great lessons now, my 
 child."
 
 Il6 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Deborah thought lessons multiplied when 
 Nurse Agnes fell ill of bronchitis, and Deborah 
 had to nurse her and keep the house. She tried 
 to make bread and failed ignominiously. She 
 was obliged to resort to Mrs. Werner to ask her 
 to do the simplest things. At first Agnes re- 
 fused to allow her young lady to wait upon her. 
 But after a long and somewhat heated private 
 discussion with Uncle Josiah, she yielded, and 
 Deborah made plasters and poultices and 
 spoiled food for ten days. Then suddenly Jean 
 appeared. 
 
 " I 've come to do the work here," she said. 
 " You do n't know how, miss, and it 's too much 
 to ask of you." 
 
 " But, Jean, we can't afford to pay you, and 
 you '11 lose your place !" 
 
 " At the rubber? Not I. I 'm too valuable. 
 I 'm the strongest girl in the building. Did you 
 hear how I stopped a row twice, all alone ? I 
 can go back when I please. As for pay, your 
 uncle paid me in advance, and I 'd have come 
 anyhow ; it may keep me from breaking out. 
 I 've been sober eight weeks ! " 
 
 " Just to think," said Deborah to her uncle, 
 " that I do n't even know how to do our little 
 cooking and ironing! And I find that the 
 ignorance of very rich girls is matched by the 
 ignorance of the very poor girls. The poor
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 1 I? 
 
 have frequently no opportunity for learning, 
 and in their homes much of the sickness and 
 poverty arises from the lack of housekeeping 
 knowledge. They waste both food and money. 
 There should be a cooking-school in every 
 ward for girls and boys too. When the mo- 
 thers and wives are ill the sons and husbands 
 should be able to do the housework and keep 
 things comfortable. The girls should learn how 
 to buy and cook plain wholesome food." 
 
 " I have thought," said Uncle Josiah, " that 
 every public school building should have a room 
 for a cooking-school, where the girls and lads of 
 the ward could come in classes, each getting 
 two lessons a week. A range should be pro- 
 vided and the janitor should see to the fires. 
 Pupils could bring provisions to cook for their 
 own families, necessary utensils could be pro- 
 vided, and after the meal was prepared and the 
 table laid the pupils could share the product of 
 their own cooking." 
 
 The epidemic passed away ; one of its results 
 was great poverty, owing to the loss of work by 
 the poor mothers. Another was that the per- 
 sons who at the order of the Board of Health 
 came about and applied disinfectants were often 
 so careless that quilts and blankets and clothing 
 and bed-ticks were entirely destroyed, very great 
 suffering resulting from this.
 
 ii8 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Finally nurse was well, and Deborah looked 
 for work once more. She found a place in a 
 paper-box factory this time, and with no Dick 
 Kegan to tell romances about her, she entered 
 among her working sisters in the same factory 
 on the same footing as the rest. They called 
 her at once " Proudy," because she spoke gram- 
 matically, had clean skin and tidy garments, 
 wore gloves, and carried a sun umbrella ! 
 
 The room where they worked was a top 
 story with windows only in the roof. The cov- 
 ering of fancy paper-boxes and putting edges of 
 lace paper in them was not difficult work, and 
 Deborah soon became tolerably expert. The 
 first week she worked for nothing, to " learn." 
 The next week she was fined all her three dol- 
 lars' wages, for "imperfect work." The third 
 week her fines were fifty cents. Thus in three 
 weeks she succeeded in earning two dollars and 
 a half. 
 
 The air of the work-room was warm, but not 
 close, as the windows could be raised. The 
 girls, seated at long tables, pursued their work 
 quickly and mechanically. They were not quite 
 as wild a set as those in the pasting-room at the 
 rubber-factory, but terrified Deborah with the 
 boldness and freedom of their conversation and 
 their decided preference for discussing scandals. 
 
 " Why do n't you girls talk about something
 
 "SON, REMEMBER." 
 
 nice ?" said Deborah one day desperately, raising 
 her head from her work. " Why will you think 
 and talk about what will make you coarse and 
 vulgar and perhaps utterly bad? We are here 
 at hard work ; we have very little that is pleas- 
 ant in our lives, but it is open to us to keep our- 
 selves decent and respectable. Why should we 
 working-girls let ourselves run down in manners 
 and morals? Why should we help the world 
 to keep us low and despised ? Why should we 
 consent to be the worst, and not the best, that we 
 can ?" 
 
 " We do n't aim to be ladies, Proudy," retort- 
 ed one. 
 
 "If to be a lady is to be something nice and 
 desirable, why should we not care enough for 
 ourselves to aim at being that?" 
 
 " Oh we can't get the last touch in manners, 
 the way you have !" 
 
 " People are at the level of what they think 
 about, girls. If we think of the low, the foolish, 
 the vicious, if we fill our minds with hate and 
 envy and meanness, then we shall be mean and 
 low. Let us think and talk of nice things, and 
 so we shall grow nice." 
 
 " What nice things have we to think about ? 
 Worn-out stockings, unpaid rent, drunken dads, 
 cold winters, hot summers ? Give us something 
 better if you can," cried the girls.
 
 120 MR. GROSVENOH'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "She's right," spoke up Martha, who had 
 hitherto been silent. " I have always hated the 
 talk in this room, but I did not dare to say so." 
 
 " What a blessing it would be if young ladies 
 who have leisure would only come here and read 
 to us," said Deborah. 
 
 "The foreman would not allow it," said 
 Martha. 
 
 " The young ladies do n't care enough for us 
 to try it, any way," said another girl. 
 
 "I do n't want 'em round here, turning up 
 noses at us," said Dora. 
 
 " Now, girls, work as fast as you can" said 
 Deborah ; " let us all make our fingers fly ; and I 
 will tell you something that will make the 
 hardest lot of the poorest girl here seem very 
 easy by comparison. You will from what I tell 
 you learn how much you have to thank God 
 for, how many blessings we all have about us. 
 Sometimes hearing of real hard things makes 
 our lot seem easier, whatever it is. My story is 
 true ; and if there is anything in it that you 
 don't understand I'll do my best to explain." 
 She began the story of Silvio Pellico and his 
 wonderful prisons. Oh wonderful story of undy- 
 ing charm !
 
 "THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS." 121 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 "THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS." 
 
 " I built my soul a lordly pleasure-house, 
 
 Wherein at ease for aye to dwell ; 
 I said, ' O soul, make merry, and carouse, 
 Dear soul, for all is well." 
 
 DEBORAH had never spent a summer in the 
 city except that last one, when on the Fourth of 
 July, just as she was prepared to start for Sara- 
 toga and the White Mountains, the accident had 
 occurred which resulted in the death of her 
 parents and her own loss of fortune. In the 
 cool, shaded, luxurious house, with carriages 
 ready for morning and evening drives, the sum- 
 mer in the city had not been unpleasant, and 
 Deborah unconsciously looked forward to the 
 warm season as promising great ameliorations 
 in her lot. It would be a time when doors and 
 windows could be open, alive with mild airs, of 
 birds and flowers, when the walks to and from 
 her work would be a pleasure, not a pain. Deb- 
 orah had fairly suffered from the cold during 
 her winter walks, she was so unused to exposure ; 
 and yet how abundantly she was provided with 
 warm clothing in comparison with her compan- 
 ion daughters of the poor ! She did not realize
 
 122 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 that in the crowded quarters of the city the open 
 doors and windows only admitted foul odors, 
 that the air grew heavy, not refreshing, that 
 there were no birds and flowers in the back 
 courts and no-thoroughfares. 
 
 Under the influence of her dream of summer 
 she one day broke out into song over her work, 
 a little song about violets and roses, dells and 
 fountains, wild-woods and birds and bees. 
 
 " A pretty song that is to sing us !" cried one 
 of the girls. "What do we know of such 
 things ?" 
 
 " Last winter I was sick," said a pale girl 
 named Dora, " and a Bible-woman came to see 
 me. Once or twice a young lady came with her, 
 and she brought me some books to amuse me 
 when I was able to sit up. Some of them I un- 
 derstood, some I did not. There was one about 
 a very rich young man, who had a great splen- 
 did home in the country, with magnificent 
 grounds. He invited the house full of working- 
 girls and young men for three weeks nice de- 
 cent folks who were worn out and needed rest, 
 young or old; he gave them their tickets and 
 nice clothes to come in. After three weeks they 
 went off, and he brought in another lot. It was 
 like life from the dead to them ; it cured them 
 up and made it possible to live the rest of the 
 year."
 
 "THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS. 
 
 " Holi ! That was a story. Nothing rez*. like 
 that ever happened. Rich folks invite poor 
 folks ! Humbug ! They invite the rich," 
 laughed one of the girls. 
 
 " Then they do exactly what the Bible for- 
 bids," spoke up Deborah. 
 
 " Look out there !" cried Martha. " Dora 's 
 going to faint !" 
 
 Deborah's strong arm caught Dora and sup- 
 ported her to the window ; one of the girls took 
 a box-cover and fanned her, another brought a 
 cup of water, stale and nearly tepid. When 
 Dora was a little revived Deborah said, 
 
 " Girls, let us fix her up comfortably in the 
 window and let her rest, and we will all be extra 
 quick and finish up her pile of work with ours, 
 so that she will not lose her day's wages. Cheer 
 up, Dora dear. I will ask you home to tea with 
 me, and Uncle Josiah will get us something real 
 good and refreshing." 
 
 " Well, as our foreman is away sick to-day," 
 said Martha, " perhaps we can give Dora a lift. 
 You are real good to think of it." 
 
 " I '11 work part of my noon-hour and do a 
 good deal of the work," said Deborah ; " I 'm well 
 and strong." 
 
 " Do you suppose anything like the story in 
 Dora's book ever really happened ?" asked Mar- 
 tha; "I do n't"
 
 124 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " But you see, girls," said Dora softly, " the 
 young man had once been poor and knew how 
 it felt." 
 
 " Ah, then it might be," said Martha. 
 
 " It makes me think of Christ, who for our 
 sakes became poor," said Deborah. 
 
 It was not always, indeed not often, that the 
 girls could thus talk while they worked. Their 
 foreman was particularly captious, and whenever 
 he came in the room or passed along the hall, 
 when connected conversation was going on, he 
 stopped it peremptorily, threatening fines or 
 discharge. He seemed to have some grudge 
 against Deborah, and was given to tart remarks 
 for her peculiar benefit. The superiority of her 
 language and manner ruffled him, and perhaps 
 in all her experience nothing was so galling to 
 Mr. Grosvenor's daughter as the rough, sharp, 
 or coarse familiar language and bearing of this 
 rude man. Sometimes she made up her mind to 
 leave the place, he was so offensive. 
 
 Such troubles as these had their antidotes in 
 bits of good fortune and kindly encouragement 
 such as what, to Deborah's surprise, happened 
 one morning as she took her place to work, 
 when she found Jean standing beside her. 
 
 "Jean, how came you here!" she exclaimed. 
 
 " Do you mind ?" said Jean with humility. " I 
 can turn my hand to anything, and I can always
 
 " THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS. 12$ 
 
 get a place. I came because you are here, and I 
 thought if I kept near you I might hold out 
 better. I was at church Sunday, and the preach- 
 er read how the shadow of Peter passing by 
 cured folks. It makes me better just to stand in 
 your shadow." 
 
 Tears filled Deborah's eyes ; she had reached 
 a new experience, even the joy of being a joy to 
 others ! 
 
 " That a friend of yours, Proudy ?" questioned 
 one of the girls. " You make a queer couple." 
 
 " Do n't speak to her like that !" shouted Jean ; 
 "she's a real lady." 
 
 " Ladies are no better than other folks," said 
 Martha crossly. 
 
 " Perhaps," said one of the girls to Dora, 
 "you can tell us a story of somebody coming 
 down in the world, and serve 'em right ! Did 
 you have such a story to read while you were 
 sick ?" 
 
 " What did your Bible- woman think of your 
 getting stories to read ?" said one girl, with a 
 sneer, to the pale worker. " I '11 be bound she 
 gave you only tracts." 
 
 " She thought the stories were all right, and 
 some of her tracts were stories, and some were 
 lovely poetry. There were two tracts that I 
 liked, all I understood of them. They were, 
 ' Jane, the Young Cottager,' and ' The Dairy-
 
 126 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 man's Daughter.' Somehow they stayed in my 
 mind, and I understood them and felt them 
 more after I was done reading them, and I think 
 they 've kept with me and made me better ever 
 since. Here 's one in my pocket now." 
 
 " I have noticed," said Deborah, looking over 
 at Dora with a pleasant laugh, " that you and I 
 are the two best behaved girls in this room." 
 
 " If you are it is n't your blame, it 's your 
 luck," spoke up Martha. " You two have been 
 better brought up, and given more of a chance 
 than we have. You show it. Perhaps you had 
 some one when you were little to tell you 
 to clean your teeth and tidy up your nails 
 and keep a civil tongue in your head. We 
 hadn't." 
 
 Deborah was suddenly overwhelmed with the 
 memory of how many good things, how many 
 mercies, how much care and helping, had fallen 
 to her lot in life. She contrasted it with the 
 early case of those other girls, and tears came 
 into her eyes. While Deborah was reflecting on 
 her mercies the stately, self-assertive Jean was 
 attracting most of the attention of the other girls 
 in the room. Jean had come there "on the 
 young lady's account." Who were they both, 
 and what was the bond between them ? Curi- 
 osity has few restraints among these factory 
 girls, and Jean was interviewed speedily.
 
 "THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS." Il/ 
 
 " What 's your name ?" some one asked of the 
 new-comer. 
 
 " Jean." 
 
 " And are you her kind ?" pointing at Deb- 
 orah. " You do n't look it." 
 
 " No more I 'm not. But she says she 's my 
 friend." 
 
 " Yes, I am," said Deborah firmly. 
 
 " Well, Proudy is pretty good to us common 
 folks," said Kate. " She was real nice to Dora 
 the day she fainted. Took her home to tea." 
 
 " She has hid me there twice since," cried 
 Dora gratefully*?' " If I am getting stronger it is 
 because of the help she gives me." 
 
 " That beats all ; I never heard the like," said 
 Kate. 
 
 " I have," said Jean ; " the Lord Christ was a 
 friend of publicans and sinners." 
 
 "Eh? Keep your tongue, and don't liken 
 us to publicans and sinners," said Kate, flying 
 into a rage and shaking her fist. 
 
 " We are as bad off as your Silvio Pellico in 
 his 'piombi,' that you tell of," said Martha, 
 turning to Deborah, " it is so hot." 
 
 " What could be done to make things better 
 for us working-girls who cannot get away from 
 the city?" said Deborah. 
 
 " In every one of these crowded districts, in 
 every ward, the city should break a hole, to let
 
 128 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 out the bad air and let the good air in," said 
 Martha with energy. 
 
 " What do you mean ? I do n't understand 
 you. 1 ' 
 
 " I mean that in every ward and the more 
 crowded the more it is needed the city should 
 buy and tear down a block or a part of a block 
 of houses, lay the ground out with clean walks 
 and some grass-plots, and a great many urns and 
 rockeries and high beds of flowers. There 
 should be a fountain in the centre and plenty of 
 stone and wooden benches, and trees plenty of 
 trees and boxes of quick-growing vines that 
 should be run up above the seats, like arbors, 
 for shade. Then the poor could walk in these 
 paths and sit on these seats, and see pleasant 
 sights and breathe a little decent air." 
 
 "Oh it 's water I want, water!" cried Kate, 
 throwing up her arms and panting for breath. 
 "I want cold water to drink, a river of it! 
 Water to bathe in, water to swim in ! Oh if I 
 only had water ! water !" 
 
 A deep ah-h-h went around the hot stifling 
 room where there was no cool drinking water, 
 and where the girls were crowded hot and 
 weary, girls who were denied the luxury of a 
 cool, refreshing bath ! Martha spoke up sharply. 
 " Then there should be in every ward a big bath- 
 ing-house for women, and another for men and
 
 "THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS." I2Q 
 
 boys. They should be free too ; for take a girl 
 who has to pay all she earns for food aud lodging, 
 and never has enough left for clothes, she cannot 
 even pay ten cents." 
 
 Again Kate threw up her arms and cried 
 out sharply, " Water ! water ! Oh I am choking ! 
 I am choking." 
 
 " She 's going into hysterics," said Jean, look- 
 ing at her with the eye of experience, and she 
 led Kate to the window and began to fan her. 
 Deborah ran down the long stairs swiftly. At 
 the corner was a queer little shop where ice> 
 cream was sold poor stuff for ice-cream, but 
 delicious to one fainting in the heat, hysterical 
 from privation like this poor Kate. Deborah 
 had a dollar in her pocket. 
 
 " Give me a dollar's worth of ice-cream," she 
 cried to the keeper of the shop, holding out the 
 coin. 
 
 " It is all I have," said the man. 
 
 " Give it to me in the can then as it is, and a 
 spoon or two." 
 
 " Ay, miss but 'spose you do n't bring 'em 
 back?" 
 
 Deborah flushed, then laughed. In her 
 pocket was her thimble a gold one. " Take that 
 until I return your can," she said, and so sped up 
 the stairs and fed first Kate and then the others 
 spoonfuls of ice-cream. 
 
 Mr. Groevenor'g Daughter. Q
 
 130 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 This trouble with Kate had interrupted 
 Martha's disquisition, but with the return to 
 work she resumed the theme. " Kate would n't 
 have gone off like that if she could have had a 
 good fresh bath every day to tone her up. But 
 baths are too dear for girls as poor as Kate ; she 
 can't pay twenty-five cents a week for the bath- 
 house, simply because she has n't it, and no one 
 will lend it to her." 
 
 " Parks and bath-houses ! That would be so 
 much help," said Deborah. 
 
 "Poor people need amusement as well as 
 rich people," said Martha, "and to get that 
 amusement they are driven to do very foolish 
 or wrong things often. In these parks the city 
 should provide music one or two nights every 
 week. There are plenty of bands in the city, 
 poor men's bands, bands that make their living 
 by playing here and there. And these would be 
 helped in making a living, while the people 
 were entertained, if the city paid a few dollars 
 to the bands to play in these little parks. And 
 then I think if people who know something 
 went about in these parks and tried to teach the 
 people something, it would be of great use. 
 One could go with a telescope and let folks look 
 through it and tell them things about the sun, 
 moon, and stars. Another could take a micro- 
 scope ; another could recite poetry, the kind that
 
 "THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS." 131 
 
 stirs folks up to be good and generous and true. 
 The city missionaries and street preachers 
 would find in those parks people feeling pleas- 
 ant, and with a place to sit down, and they 
 would listen far better to the preaching and 
 singing and praying, and it would be more 
 likely to do them good ; for the interest taken in 
 them by good people and the government would 
 make it more easy for them to feel that God is 
 good and cares." 
 
 " We '11 never see such good done in our day," 
 said one. 
 
 " Well, until the city or the churches, or both, 
 take up the work for elevating the poor, help- 
 ing them in body and soul, systematically, ward 
 by ward, and give each ward its proper share of 
 help, they wont be helped that 's all. It is not 
 of much use to open a kindergarten here, a Day 
 Nursery there, a Refuge or a Dispensary in 
 another place, and a cooking-school somewhere 
 else each out of speaking distance from the 
 other. The things should be near enough 
 together to call upon each other. The children 
 that were kept tidy and decent in the Nursery 
 should have their kindergarten to go to, and 
 their cooking-school after that, and their park 
 and bath-house to keep them healthy, their read- 
 ing-room or club-room, where they could enjoy 
 themselves without whiskey, their church and
 
 132 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 mission right where they could get at them. 
 The different branches of work should help 
 each other ; put a mile or so between them, and 
 half of the effect is lost." 
 
 "You talk like an educated person," said 
 Deborah, in surprise. 
 
 "She is educated," said one of the girls 
 promptly. 
 
 "Then how comes she to work here?" ex- 
 claimed Deborah. 
 
 " How do you come to work here ? Among 
 girls in a room like this it is not safe to ask too 
 many questions, Proudy." 
 
 " I beg your pardon ; I was wrong," said Deb- 
 orah. 
 
 " If we could have all these things that Mar- 
 tha tells about in our wards and if we could 
 have some one to read to us while we work, and 
 we could have rich people who gave us a chance 
 a few times in our lives to get out into the coun- 
 try or by the seaside, to get revived a little, we 
 might do pretty well." 
 
 "Things are getting better. Country vaca- 
 tions for poor children, and day excursions for 
 mothers and babies, and the seaside homes some 
 of the good people provide, are all better than 
 things used to be as I 've heard tell," said one. 
 
 " Oh yes," said Martha, " better, but the need 
 is greater. The cities are more crowded ; the
 
 " THOU RECEIVEDST GOOD THINGS." 133 
 
 living is dearer ; there is more competition, so 
 that work is scarcer ; the poor people are poorer, 
 the rich are richer ; and rich and poor hold far- 
 ther away from each other. I think wicked 
 people are wickeder, and children are in more 
 danger, than they used te be." 
 
 " So you see, to wind up with, you 'd better 
 not sing of summer to us as you did one day ; 
 our lives are all winter a muddy, foggy, frosty, 
 hungry winter." 
 
 " I will do better," said Deborah, " I will sing 
 of the home to which God calls us all. " 
 
 And she began 
 
 " Jerusalem, my happy home, 
 
 Name ever dear to me, 
 When shall my sorrows have an end, 
 In joy and peace with thee ? 
 
 When shall mine eyes thy heaven-built walls 
 
 And pearly gates behold, 
 Thy bulwarks with salvation strong, 
 
 Thy streets of shining gold ?" 
 
 She had learned many hymns of late for the 
 Mission. 
 
 One Saturday evening when the girls went 
 to get paid, over half of them were summarily 
 dismissed, without warning. The reason was 
 that the factory was overstocked with boxes and 
 the trade was slack. Deborah was one of those 
 dismissed. Those daughters of poverty who
 
 134 MR - GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 were thus thrown out of work gathered on the 
 sidewalk in blank dismay. Two of them cried 
 pitifully. 
 
 " I owe every cent of this last wages, and 
 have no more money," said Martha. 
 
 " I 'm deep in debt to my cousin," said an- 
 other. " It is almost impossible to get work at 
 this season." 
 
 " This is getting a summer vacation with 
 a vengeance !" remarked Martha . 
 
 The crying of the two youngest girls quite 
 broke Deborah's heart. Perhaps they were no 
 worse off than the others, but their exhibition of 
 grief was heart-rending. Deborah had designed 
 going again to the Day Nursery, where the assist- 
 ant was to leave to take some of the feeble chil- 
 dren to the country branch. She took the hand 
 of one crying girl : " Come with me ; perhaps I 
 can get you a place in a Day Nursery." She felt 
 that she could not take that place and leave this 
 poor soul crying for bread. It was easier to 
 suffer than to see others suffer. Then to the 
 other one she said, " To-morrow come to see me 
 in Romaine Court ; perhaps something can be 
 done for you." 
 
 " You 're not half bad, Proudy ; your heart 's 
 in the right place," said some of the girls. " What 
 are you going to do yourself ?"
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 13$ 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 'LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 
 
 " A puny, naked, shivering wretch, 
 The whole of whose birthright would not fetch, 
 Though Robins himself drew up the sketch, 
 The bid of a mess of pottage." 
 
 THE next two weeks were spent in seeking 
 work, though this time Jean, who had avowed 
 her intention of sharing Deborah's fortunes, did 
 most of the seeking. Finally a new place was 
 secured in the packing-room of a candy fac- 
 tory. Three dollars a week for Deborah, four 
 for Jean, who was strong and active, and could 
 lift and carry. When in her days of splendor 
 Deborah had lavishly bought boxes of candy or 
 had them more lavishly presented by the young 
 men of her set, it had not occurred to her in 
 what weariness her sister-girls had made and 
 filled these beautiful bon-boneries. Then to her 
 the bon-bons had been all sweetness. Now ? 
 
 It is an often quoted saying of Terence, " I 
 am a man, and nothing that concerns humanity 
 is indifferent to me." The daughter of Dives, 
 so lately become by adoption the daughter of 
 Lazarus, was rapidly arriving at a point where
 
 136 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 she could say, " I am a working woman, and 
 nothing that concerns working women is foreign 
 to me. There were depths of enthusiasm in 
 Deborah's nature that hitherto had slept undis- 
 turbed ; now for the first time they were aroused, 
 and Uncle Josiah was looking with profound in- 
 terest to the outcome. 
 
 One morning at the candy-packing room, a 
 girl of sixteen who worked beside Deborah, has- 
 tily placing a newly-filled box beside others on 
 the sill of the open window, happened to push 
 one under the first iron rod that barred the win- 
 dow, and down it went into the street. There 
 was a shrill shriek of delight, and Deborah, look- 
 ing from the window, saw all the gamins of the 
 quarter suddenly swooping down on the scat- 
 tered candy, like a flock of crows upon a newly- 
 planted field. The youngsters seemed so over- 
 joyed in their pell-mell rush for sweetmeats that 
 Deborah laughed. But her laughter was cut 
 short by the passionate crying of her young 
 neighbor. 
 
 " Never mind," said Deborah ; " it was only 
 one box, and you did not mean to do it." 
 
 " They '11 charge me sixty cents for it to- 
 night," said the girl. " I had been so careful for 
 a whole month, and got on without a fine ! I 
 had promised my little lame sister a treat, be- 
 cause we close early on Saturdays, and we were
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 137 
 
 to ride on a street-car all around the city, and I 
 was to get her soda-water and ginger cakes ; and 
 now we can't do it, and it will break her heart, 
 poor little sick thing !" The sobs redoubled. 
 
 Deborah herself was not easily moved to vis- 
 ible emotion : it is one of the results of culture 
 to repress outward excitement of any kind. In- 
 capable herself of this open mourning and weep- 
 ing, Deborah was perhaps for that very reason 
 the more impressed by it in others. It seemed to 
 her that only extreme anguish could produce such 
 an exhibition. She looked at the weeping girl, 
 not knowing how to console her, when a hasty 
 step sounded on the stair, and some one said, 
 " There 's the foreman !" All the girls went at 
 their work vigorously. 
 
 " Who threw out that candy ?" he demanded, 
 entering. 
 
 Deborah, as she heard his step, hastily trans- 
 ferred one of her boxes to her neighbor, and to 
 his demand said coolly, " I am a box short, Mr. 
 Cullen ; you '11 fine me for it to-night." 
 
 " You may believe I will, sixty cents," said 
 the foreman. " If you like that kind of thing, 
 sling out some more," and he went off. 
 
 "You must have money to spare," said one 
 of the girls to Deborah. 
 
 " I have n't ; but then I have no little lame 
 sister to disappoint."
 
 138 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " It 's awful good of you," said the girl, Bella, 
 " but I ought n't to take it." 
 
 " Oh yes. It 's done now. That is all right," 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " See here, are you a common working-girl ?" 
 demanded one of the packers. "You don't 
 look or speak or act like it. Are you a lady, 
 playing at being poor ?" 
 
 " I am not playing at being poor, for I am 
 poor," said Deborah. " I am a working-girl, and 
 have only my wages to live on. I have not been 
 a working-girl very long. If I had, I should 
 have tried to learn something so well that I 
 could get a better place than this. I live with an 
 uncle and my old nurse. Our rent is eight 
 dollars a month, and I ought to pay it, but be- 
 tween fines, taxes, and low wages, and being 
 out of work, I have not earned it so far. As for 
 being a lady, if you mean by that, speaking and 
 behaving properly, I do n't see why I should not 
 be that, no matter how poor the work and the 
 wages." 
 
 " It is just a burning shame, fining us sixty 
 cents for a box like that ! " cried one of the 
 girls; "it is the full retail price, and it is not 
 worth nearly that here in the factory. Rich as 
 they are, they ought not to charge for a lost 
 box." 
 
 " See here," said an elderly work-woman, " if
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 139 
 
 there were no fines you girls would be just as 
 careless as you could be. You 'd shoot boxes 
 out of the window every day, and you 'd scatter 
 the candy round the floor and trample it, and go 
 home with your pockets stuffed. You 'd swamp 
 the firm in no time. There 's nothing honorable 
 about you ; it is only the fines that make you 
 reasonably careful." 
 
 " But the fines are exorbitant," said Deb- 
 orah ; " they should not tax us more than what 
 they pay us for time ; nor for property beyond 
 what they sell the property for to other people. 
 That lost box was virtually sold to me, and I 
 ought not to be charged more than the trade 
 for it." 
 
 " Good for you ! " cried several girls ; " and as 
 for being honorable, are we honorably treated ? 
 We are spoken to roughly, given the very lowest 
 wages, taxed, fined, and turned off without 
 warning the very minute trade falls off a little." 
 
 " That 's the trouble ; you measure all by the 
 way you 're treated and by the dealings of men, 
 not by the laws of God. Suppose you are hardly 
 dealt with, can 't you do your work as unto God 
 and not unto men ? Can 't you be just and good 
 in yourselves for the sake of being it ? Oh I 
 hear plenty from you all about the hard treat- 
 ment the world gives you, but precious little 
 about doing your duty," said Mrs. Beck.
 
 140 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " You think you have it hard here," said an 
 old woman, "but it isn't to begin with as hard 
 as it is in England. Why, your three dollars are 
 twelve shillings a week, and a London working, 
 girl would think that riches; five-and-six, or 
 less than a dollar and a half, is a girl's wages 
 there, and find herself. I was a mantle-maker 
 in London till my eyes gave out. I made five 
 shillings, that 's only a dollar and a quarter, by 
 sixty hours' hard work ten hours a day for all 
 the working days of the week. Now and then, 
 by working fifteen or sixteen hours a day, I 'd 
 send it up to a little more. How did I live on 
 that ? Why, six of us lived in two little rooms, 
 and clubbed for rent, lights, and fire, and we 
 lived on weak tea and bread without butter, and 
 a bit of bacon and potatoes on Sunday. What 
 do you think of that ? " 
 
 " I think you were all born fools to put up 
 with it ! " cried one. 
 
 As the summer days dragged on, hot and 
 dusty, Deborah felt more weary and took less 
 interest in what went on about her. For several 
 days she vaguely noticed that a boy left the 
 candy factory when she did and went home by 
 the same streets some distance behind her ; but 
 when she took some quiet by-street she heard 
 the stolid tramp, tramp of his big shoes along 
 the rough pavement. Finally Jean, who always
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 141 
 
 accompanied her, burst out into a laugh. Do 
 you see that Oliver ? He follows us like a big 
 dog ! Have you noticed it? " 
 
 Deborah stopped. "Oliver? Why, it is 
 Oliver!" She waited, and the lad shambled 
 near in shamefaced fashion which made him 
 unutterably awkward. " Oliver, I did not know 
 you worked in this factory. How long have 
 you been there ? " 
 
 " Two weeks. In the shipping-room." 
 
 " How did you come to leave your other 
 place ? " she said anxiously. 
 
 " Of my own accord, miss," said Oliver, pick- 
 ing up courage. " But it is a rough noisy place 
 down here by the docks, and after a bit it will 
 be dark when you go home and I took the 
 place when I had the chance and you '11 not 
 mind my going a little behind you? If any 
 one sasses you he '11 find out how much grip 
 I 've got in my hands." 
 
 " Thank you, Oliver," said Deborah, deeply 
 touched, " but I had Jean." 
 
 " Yes, I know," but she might break out 
 Jean hersel' might need me to drag her by 
 where she should not go !" 
 
 " You 'd ha' a hard time dragging me, boy," 
 said Jean, looking down upon him from her 
 stately height. " And I can take care of miss." 
 
 Deborah laughed a little. She had found
 
 142 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 out that any woman is her own strongest pro- 
 tector, and she had divined aright the story of 
 Una and her Lion. Yet none the less she felt 
 grateful to these two, and paid them with a 
 smile. 
 
 Such a subject came up for discussion in 
 the work-room one day. A girl remarked that 
 she had been offered six dollars a week and 
 board to tend a bar, and she had a mind to take 
 it, and not starve on three dollars. 
 
 " Do you know," said Deborah, " that such 
 an arrangement is against the law ? The man 
 who employed you would be subject to arrest. 
 Girls are not allowed to tend bar." 
 
 "I did n't know that," said the girl simply. 
 " It is a mean, low business tempting folks to 
 drink. But I would n't tempt, I 'd only sell what 
 was asked for." 
 
 Jean looked at the pretty fatuous face with 
 open scorn and wrath. 
 
 " Stupid ! do you know what you would be 
 doing ? Better die of want at once than die in 
 the gutter a drunken reprobate in six months' 
 time. That 's what would have happened to me, 
 only I was made so strong and only for her ;" 
 she pointed to Deborah. 
 
 The forewoman spoke up. "The working- 
 girls are their own worst enemies, and harder" 
 on themselves than any one else is hard on
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 143 
 
 them. Do they try to make themselves re- 
 spected ? Do they give the very best work that 
 they can ? Do they go to church and put them- 
 selves where quiet and respectable people are ? 
 No : they go to theatres of the lowest, cheapest 
 class ; they go to dime museums, and spend in 
 such places the money they should spend for 
 soap and shoes. Do they content themselves 
 with strong, warm, plain clothes ? Do they re- 
 member that quiet, modest manners are any 
 woman's best ornament? They want flashy 
 clothes, a cheap bonnet covered with cotton rib- 
 bon and cotton flowers, some gay, flimsy, showy 
 gown, and a pair of low-cut shoes. I 've known 
 'em to go without a good strong big cotton um- 
 brella all winter for the sake of carrying a 
 flimsy blue silk sun-shade on Sundays. And 
 how do they spend Sundays ? Flaunting around 
 the streets, going to the parks or beer-gardens 
 with low fellows that swear and drink and 
 smoke ; bad fellows that they know to be bad, 
 and that self-respecting girls should not go with 
 at all ! Then, after such a Sunday, they come 
 to work Monday tired, feverish, vexed, out of 
 pocket, and full of complaints about the em- 
 ployers. If they would take Sunday for peace and 
 rest, for getting some food for their minds and 
 comfort and hope for their souls, if they would 
 go to God's house, and sit there in peace, they 'd
 
 144 MR - GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 find there the light of God's glory, and they 
 would be helped to be better." 
 
 " Oh you speak as if we had half a chance !" 
 said Bella. "Why in the attic of the house 
 where I live there are seven girls who live to- 
 gether, and have a sign up, ' Sewing done by 
 the piece.' They none of them have better 
 than a cotton gown, and their shoes are all 
 broken, and the girls are all pale and thin ; they 
 are just half starved ! Much they spend on cot- 
 ton lace or cheap jewelry or on dime shows !" 
 
 " But you know there are plenty who do just 
 as I say." 
 
 " We have been in too crowded quarters even 
 to be real tidy or modest or decent in our feel- 
 ings," said one girl. "We have always heard 
 swearing and coarse bad talk, and naturally it 
 has ceased to hurt our feelings ; we have always 
 seen dirt, disorder, drunken people, and quar- 
 relling and fighting. We have heard religion 
 and God mocked at, and rich people abused, 
 ever since we have heard anything. All our 
 surroundings have been discouraging ; we have 
 not been helped to rise, or taught that we could 
 ever make anything real good of ourselves, or 
 get good fortune in any honest, respectable way. 
 It is easy for us to hate people that are better 
 off, and to be as bad as we can." 
 
 " That 's it." cried Bella bitterly ; " the little
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 145 
 
 children are bad off and made bad, and the girls 
 have hard times as they grow up, and a little 
 later marry one of the bad fellows you spoke 
 of, and have a husband that drinks, swears, 
 knocks one about, uses his wages on himself, 
 and runs off and leaves one with three or four 
 crying children to take care of." 
 
 " But there at least one can help one's self," 
 cried Deborah. " No girl is compelled to marry 
 a bad man, to make her own lot worse, and to 
 put more little children in misery and danger ! 
 If a girl cannot marry a decent man, who really 
 cares for her, and will be good to her and try 
 to help his family on, why does she marry at 
 all? She is better off as she is." 
 
 " Oh well, they all marry ; it is the custom ; 
 and they are so tired and disgusted with one 
 way of living, they think they '11 try something 
 else. And sometimes the men promise a good 
 deal, but don't keep their promises, and so it 
 goes. But the dead girls are the best-off girls, 
 only the girls that have never been born they 
 are the best off of all." 
 
 " And they 'd better be precious careful not 
 to be born." 
 
 " But tell me what would make things bet- 
 ter," said Deborah. " I know a young lady, a 
 very rich young lady, who has gone to France, 
 and she promised me that when she came back 
 
 Mr. Groavenor's Daughter. IQ
 
 146 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 she would do something for working-girls, if I 
 would tell her what to do." 
 
 " She '11 never remember it. That was all 
 gush. She '11 spend all her money in Paris on 
 nice clothes. You '11 hear no more of her." 
 
 " If she 's like you, Miss Deborah," said Jean, 
 " she may remember us and help us. You do." 
 
 " She does now because she 's put right here 
 with us," said Maria. " But I say, Deborah, 
 could you have given up what you had just 
 to learn what was wanted, and then give it? 
 Say?" 
 
 " I 'm afraid I was too selfish and too igno- 
 rant to stand such a test. To make me learn 
 anything God had to take my fortune out of my 
 hands." 
 
 " And if you had a chance of course you 
 would go back." 
 
 Maria spoke up. " Homes are what we 
 want, homes where we can be quiet and healthy, 
 and respect ourselves, and daren't bring a bad 
 book." 
 
 " Homes !" cried Jean ; " I hate the name 
 of them ! I would n't be in one for any 
 money ! A home that is a real home is all very 
 well, but homes for working-girls are jails, 
 that 's what they are. You can 't do this ; you 
 daren't do that; can't be out after such an 
 hour ; can't have company call ; must tell
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 147 
 
 where you Ve been, and so on. They tie you 
 up and bind you down and make prisoners of 
 you and take away all free, comfortable feeling, 
 and say they Ve given you a home" 
 
 "I didn't mean that kind," said the other 
 girl. " I mean decent homes where we can get 
 reasonable rooms and proper privileges." 
 
 " Well, I do n't crave to have the ladies come 
 round me and set up for patterns. They look 
 at you as if you were n't fit to be touched, they 
 curl up their noses and walk on their tip-toes, 
 and feel all the time as if they are so good just 
 to speak to you. I hate 'em !" 
 
 Thus spoke a tall girl with much unneeded 
 vim. 
 
 " Pshaw," said another. " It is not always 
 that way. Last winter the mission on Callowell 
 Street opened one of the church parlors for a 
 working-girls' club, three times a week, and some 
 of the nicest young ladies that you ever saw 
 came to it. They taught drawing, fancy-work, 
 dressmaking. They made themselves real 
 pleasant, and told us what books were nice to 
 read, and what it was nice to do, and they looked 
 out for the sick and weakly ones and were real 
 lovely to us." 
 
 " Wish that kind was n't so scarce," said the 
 tall girl. 
 " And after all, when a real nice thing is to be
 
 148 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 done it is the good ones that do it. I know a 
 girl that had gone to make an application for 
 a nice place, and could n't get it, and she was 
 clear discouraged. When she went out on the 
 sidewalk she saw a poor miserable horse stand- 
 ing there stretching out its neck towards a tur- 
 nip that had been dropped just out of its reach. 
 The girl was crying, but she pitied the wretched 
 horse, so she gave it the turnip, and patted the 
 poor horse on the head, and said, ' You and 
 I have it pretty hard in this world, do n't we ?' 
 Well, just then along came one of the greatest 
 preachers in the city, and he heard her, and he 
 guessed just how things stood. So he found 
 out her name and where she lived, and he 
 made friends for her, and got her a first-class 
 place and has helped her along, and she goes 
 to his church and is in a Bible-class, and I tell 
 you she is getting on fine." 
 
 "Yes," said Mrs. Beck, "the one greatest 
 and truest friend of all is the Lord Jesus Christ, 
 and the people who have the most of his spirit 
 in them are the most friendly and helpful and 
 tender. If all people had the love of Christ in 
 their hearts the miseries of this world would 
 soon pass away. I mean the bitter part of them. 
 For while the poor, the sick, and the suffering 
 were left there would be help and friends and 
 comfort for them, given in such a tender way
 
 "LIKEWISE LAZARUS EVIL THINGS." 149 
 
 that it would not go against the grain to take 
 it." 
 
 Such were some of the talks in the work- 
 room. Not carried on all at one time, but in 
 snatches here and there, when the rough fore- 
 man was out of the room, and happily he left 
 the control of the room largely to Mrs. Beck 
 and spent his time in other parts of the build- 
 ing. Deborah detailed to Uncle Josiah all that 
 was said, as they discussed what could be done 
 for working-girls, and who could do it.
 
 ISO MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. 
 
 " A still small voice spoke unto me : 
 ' Thou art so full of misery 
 Were it not better not to be ?' " 
 
 WHILE once Deborah Grosvenor had not 
 given a thought to anything beyond the weari- 
 ness or amusements, the self-service, of the hour, 
 had busied herself with no deep thoughts, with 
 no wide themes, now she began to vex herself 
 with unanswerable questions about the life 
 around her. Why, why, WHY ? 
 
 Why were some born to extreme misery ? 
 Why was evil tolerated in a universe ruled by 
 the Supremely Good ? Whence had sprung that 
 awful harvest of sin and sorrow ? She thought 
 the story of the primal fall an answer quite in- 
 sufficient. Why should one sin, one disobedi- 
 ence, bring in its train so many crimes and 
 woes? 
 
 " Deborah," said her uncle, " we cannot meas- 
 ure the reproductive power of sin, any more 
 than we can the reproductive power of seed let 
 us say of wheat. I think if every atom of wheat 
 in all the world were destroyed, except one sin- 
 gle healthy seed, and that were dropped in
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. I$I 
 
 fitting soil and given careful culture, and harvest 
 after harvest its product kept for seed, within 
 ten years the earth would again abound in wheat- 
 fields, and all men would eat bread to the full. 
 When statistics show us how soon the world 
 would be repopulated, if all its inhabitants ex- 
 cept two couples were destroyed, we cannot 
 wonder that, given even a few parents who had 
 not God in all their thoughts, the up-growth of 
 vice should be so rampant. The whim or care- 
 less habit of the parent becomes the master- 
 passion of the child ; the greedy man's son may 
 be a thief, and the self-indulgent idler may ripen 
 in the next generation into the debauchee Get- 
 ting down seems easy to the human race, men- 
 tally, morally, physically, spiritually, financially. 
 It is rising upwards that is hard. When the 
 race started on the down-grade, can we wonder 
 that we find them where we do after six thou- 
 sand years or so of evil progress ? Rather we 
 must wonder at the infinite power of divine 
 grace, that has stayed so many, and has so built 
 an altar to God in many human hearts, and sent 
 up to heaven ' a great multitude whom no man 
 can number.' " 
 
 " But, uncle, look at it another way. God is 
 a prayer-hearer: he has made promises to the 
 seed of his children. Do you think that all these 
 miserable wicked thousands have never in all
 
 I$2 MR. GROSVENORS DAUGHTER. 
 
 the long line of their ancestors had one who 
 loved God ? have never had friend or ancestor or 
 casual acquaintance even who offered a prayer 
 in their behalf ? What has then become of the 
 answer of prayers ?" 
 
 " My child," said Uncle Josiah, " I stood one 
 day in a field where were hundreds of round 
 silver heads of dandelions gone to seed. The 
 south wind came suddenly sweeping over the 
 field, and carried on its wings millions of seeds 
 away, and sowed them over all the land. What 
 profit would it have been to me to go and search 
 for those truant seeds, or to ask the wind where 
 it had carried them? If to find one crop of 
 feathered seeds, borne by one blast of wind, is so 
 difficult, are we likely to be able to trace the 
 myriad prayers which have gone up to God 
 through the ages, and which he has sown over 
 the world in blessings ? I cannot answer your 
 question, but every now and again I come upon 
 the answer of some long-hoarded prayer, and 
 from such examples I infer what has become of 
 all. A year ago you were an evil steward, daily 
 accused by the angel before God for wasting his 
 entrusted goods. Your soul was in deadly jeop- 
 ardy ; God was not in all your thoughts. I won- 
 dered how long it would be, and how it would 
 be, before God remembered the prayers of your 
 grandmother for you. Deborah, how do you
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. 1 53 
 
 like the answer to your grandmother's prayers ? 
 You are being led towards heaven by the via cru- 
 cis." 
 
 " Do you lay to grandmother's prayers all 
 these varied fortunes ? Do you suppose grand- 
 mother would have had courage to pray if she 
 had seen the method of the answer ?" 
 
 " I do not know. Perhaps that is one reason 
 why God veils the future, that we may not be 
 frightened out of our prayers by the way of the 
 answer." 
 
 " I suppose if some Christians could see how 
 very long it would be before their prayers would 
 be answered, and how hard the road towards 
 answer would be, they would be almost discour- 
 aged." 
 
 " No doubt. But long to us is short to God ; 
 God's time is good time ; and when we have en- 
 tered heaven, time will be no longer, and we 
 shall not know of delay." 
 
 Uncle Josiah and Deborah were, like the 
 Hebrews of old, sitting on the house-top. August 
 had come with fierce heat, and Deborah was 
 learning what side of life the summer turns to 
 the city poor. Uncle Josiah, finding the street 
 an impossible place for himself and his niece, 
 and the open windows of their room a little 
 better evening resort, though Nurse Jamieson 
 did not seem to mind it, had discovered an
 
 154 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 evening haven for himself and Deborah by ta- 
 king rugs up to the roof, and sitting there above 
 the ill odors and the din and as near the stars as 
 possible. Now that the fires in the house were all 
 out at evening the roof was a fine place for uncle 
 and niece, though not to their neighbors who de- 
 manded society and gossip. The house opposite 
 them in the court was a half-story higher than 
 theirs, and every evening Deborah had seen a 
 strange and haggard human face in the opposite 
 attic window. It was a face written with the sins 
 and sufferings of eighty evil years. Almost the 
 lines of humanity had been obliterated, and the 
 face was more like some evil bird watching for 
 carrion than like a woman's countenance. Deb- 
 orah gazed in the sunken fierce eyes, the tremu- 
 lous chin, the rough gray head, the defaced 
 features, the withered yellow skin, with a kind 
 of fascination of horror. What course of time 
 and of habits could have made her like that? 
 What was the history of years that had written 
 such records on a face? She tried to imagine 
 that face back to matron maturity, back to youth, 
 back to girlhood, back to childhood's sunshine, 
 back to infant purity. " Long and hard the road 
 thy feet have travelled far from God !" Seated 
 on a mat and leaning back against a chimney, 
 Deborah studied her opposite neighbor ; and 
 with some glimmer of curiosity this strange,
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. 155 
 
 fierce-looking old creature, who was never seen to 
 descend to the street, studied the girl, who after 
 her day of toil came home, laid aside her black 
 gingham working-dress, and putting on a muslin 
 robe in white or gray, went up to the roof with 
 the grave old man and sat there conversing with 
 him till the shadows fell. 
 
 " Uncle," said Deborah, " what has been such 
 an old woman's terrible story ? Do you suppose 
 there were ever any prayers for her?" 
 
 " Who can tell ? Eternity alone has the an- 
 swer for many questions." 
 
 The idea of the old woman grew upon Deb- 
 orah with strange insistence. 
 
 " Perhaps," said Uncle Josiah, " your mind is 
 thus turned towards this woman because God 
 has an errand for you to do to her from him. 
 Remember, Deborah, what we can do for God is 
 here and now. Why were you sent to this 
 court?" 
 
 Thus it happened that one Sabbath evening 
 the old woman did not see the young girl and 
 her uncle upon the roof, but instead there was a 
 tap on her grimy door, and it swung open to re- 
 veal a vision. The vision was of a tall girl 
 stately in figure, low of voice, dressed in white, 
 and holding a bunch of flowers which breathed 
 strange fragrance in that dismal attic. 
 
 Two or three times each week Uncle Josiah
 
 156 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 brought home to Deborah a large bouquet of 
 flowers. He got them without cost from a man 
 who had a hot-house and gardens. He always 
 kept two or three bunches of flowers in the 
 room at his mission, saying that they were as 
 good preachers as he knew of. Deborah's room 
 also was made fragrant and radiant with flowers. 
 
 At first, in her passion for beauty and her 
 cleaving to these memorials of her former for- 
 tunes, Deborah had kept her flowers until they 
 faded. But finally she had taken shame for 
 that, and first for the hand of a dead babe, then 
 for sickness or old age or lonely childhood, she 
 had shared her flowers, and always as she di- 
 vided and distributed, others came. 
 
 "See, Deborah," said her uncle, "there is 
 that giveth and yet increaseth. There is that 
 withholdeth more than is meet, and it tendeth to 
 poverty." 
 
 " I wish I had known that when I was rich," 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " There was no excuse for your ignorance ; it 
 was written in the Book." 
 
 " There are none so blind as those who will 
 not see, uncle. Besides, I read the Book very 
 little in those days." 
 
 Well, on this Sabbath evening Deborah had 
 divided a large bunch of roses and lilies and 
 azaleas, and now bearing them, stood queenly in
 
 HARVEST AND HARVESTS. 1 57 
 
 the open doorway, while the old woman, dirty, 
 ragged, defiant, yet curious, looked at her from 
 her place in the window. 
 
 " What do you want here ?" she demanded. 
 
 "We are neighbors," said Deborah ; "Hive 
 across the street, and as you seem never to go out 
 I have come to see you." 
 
 " No ; I never go out." 
 
 Deborah walked towards her. "As you do 
 not go out to meet the summer, I have brought 
 summer to you ; here are some flowers ;" and she 
 held the bouquet against the grim, brown, 
 wrinkled face. 
 
 There is great power in odors. It is said 
 that odors have more virtue in awakening mem- 
 ories than have sights or sounds. Well did 
 Whittier write, 
 
 " Shall greet me like the odors blown 
 From unseen meadows newly mown, 
 Or lilies floating on some pond 
 Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond. 
 The traveller owns the grateful sense 
 Of sweetness near, he knows not whence, 
 And pausing, takes with forehead bare 
 The benediction of the air." 
 
 The rough face that had been hidden in the 
 flowers softened a little as she withdrew it. 
 
 " I must put them in water for you," said 
 Deborah, so she took a pitcher from the table, 
 put water in it from a pail in the corner, and
 
 158 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 arranging the flowers to hide the broken nose 
 and broken handle of the pitcher, placed them 
 in the window-seat close to the old dame. 
 
 " You never go out," said Deborah ; " are you 
 lame or sick ?" 
 
 " No ; I am well. I do n't want to go out." 
 
 " I have seen you here, and you looked lonely." 
 
 "You are the first person that has come inside 
 my door for eight years," said the old woman 
 fiercely. " I hate people." 
 
 " Not people who have never injured you?" 
 
 " Yes, I do all who are better or happier or 
 younger or richer. I hate you. You are all of 
 those things." 
 
 "Well, you will not hate my flowers, now 
 they are yours." 
 
 " I feel just like throwing them into the 
 street." Still she did not throw them, and Deb- 
 orah continued, 
 
 " You may like me better when you know 
 me better. How do you live, if you never go out 
 and no one ever comes in ?" 
 
 " A woman down stairs is paid to buy me 
 things and to put water and fuel near my door. 
 Sometimes I tell her if I want anything espe- 
 cial." 
 
 "I am glad that at your age you are not 
 neglected or destitute that you can have all 
 that you need."
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. 1 59 
 
 " What difference does it make to you ?" 
 
 " You are a woman, and are old. I too may 
 
 some time be an old woman. I have for you 
 
 what is called human sympathy. Do you not 
 
 know what that is ?" 
 
 " No ; and I do n't want to know." 
 
 " Do you like to talk to any one, or to listen to 
 
 one talking?" 
 " No, I do n't." 
 " I can sing," said Deborah, " and God has 
 
 sent me to sing you a song. When that is sung 
 
 I will go. 
 
 " ' The Lord my Shepherd is, 
 
 He shall my wants supply ; 
 He leadeth me through pastures green 
 And quiet waters by. 1 " 
 
 " Sing again," commanded the woman when 
 she finished. 
 
 Deborah began 
 
 " O sacred Head, now wounded, 
 With grief and shame weighed down." 
 
 When she finished the hymn she rose to go. 
 
 " I "m glad you came ; no one has entered 
 here for eight years," said the old woman. 
 
 " I shall come again soon," said Deborah. 
 
 "I do n't believe it." 
 
 " But I shall, and I shall bring my Bible, and 
 read to you if it is light enough." 
 
 Curious to know why this wretched woman
 
 160 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 was so abandoned, Deborah asked some of the 
 neighbors about her. A chorus of exclamations 
 answered her " The most wicked, wretched old 
 creature in the city." " A demon ! I wonder 
 she did n't throw a knife at you." " Did n't she 
 curse and swear all the time ?" " You ought not 
 to go near her, miss." " Wonder she did n't tear 
 your eyes out." " She 's been to the penitentiary." 
 " She ought not to be allowed in this neighbor- 
 hood." " Ten years she 's been there." " Some 
 decent folks, that some way belong far off to 
 her, put her there when she got out of the pen- 
 itentiary. She has so much a week, and she 
 might live decently. For eight years she has n't 
 gone off that floor. She stays like a rat in a hole. 
 Don't go there again." 
 
 " The worse she is, the more she needs me," 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " That 's queer doctrine." 
 
 " It is Christian doctrine," said Uncle Josiah. 
 " ' The Son of man came not to call the righteous, 
 but sinners to repentance.' 'They that be 
 whole need not a physician, but they that be 
 sick.' " 
 
 " Oh you Christian folks are too good for this 
 world." " 
 
 Deborah went again in a day or two. She 
 took flowers and her Bible, and unasked sat 
 down and read.
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. l6l 
 
 The third time she went, lo, the window was 
 cleaned, a chair was scrubbed and put by the 
 window, a piece of carpet shaken and laid by 
 the chair. " This bit of room looks like another 
 country from the rest," said Deborah, taking this 
 place, and again she read and sang. The next 
 Sabbath was her fourth visit. The succeeding 
 Tuesday she found all the room scoured, cleaned, 
 whitewashed, renovated. 
 
 " It took two days, me and another woman," 
 said the old dame, " but if you will come here 
 in your good clothes, and bring flowers, why you 
 sha' n't get ruined with dirt here." 
 
 And now Deborah saw in this hard, bad face 
 a new expression hunger for the word of life 
 she read. Again she came ; the door was open ; 
 the old woman was waiting at the head of the 
 stairs. " I had a dream !" she cried eagerly. " I 
 dreamed I got to heaven, and there were crowds 
 of angels there, just like you, and they sang 
 just as you do, and there were words the 
 words you read ; and the flowers were there, such 
 as you bring, and all the air was sweet, and it 
 was summer." 
 
 Said Deborah, 
 
 " ' He stood alone, lost in divinest wonder, 
 
 He saw the pearly gates, and jasper walls 
 Informed with light, and heard the far-off thunder 
 Of chariot-wheels and mighty waterfalls.
 
 162 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " ' And throned within the shining empyrean, 
 A golden palm-branch in his gentle hand, 
 He saw his Lord, the gracious Galilean, 
 Amid the worship of the myriads stand.' " 
 
 " Yes," said the woman, " it was like that^ 
 all music and light." 
 
 The next time Deborah came the woman 
 herself had changed. She was clean and clad 
 in clean garments. Her gray hair, well brushed 
 and shining, lay under a new cap ; she was as 
 the once maniac of Gadara, now clothed and in 
 her right mind. 
 
 " I want," said Deborah, " to have my uncle 
 come and see you : he knows more than I do, 
 and he can help you more. And I want our 
 minister at the mission chapel here to come 
 too." 
 
 " He wont come," said the woman. " He 
 tried it once, but I knew he was coming, and I 
 stood at the stair-head and flung a pail of water 
 over him. The folks in the house wanted to 
 have me arrested for it, but he would not let 
 them ; he said I was too old to arrest. I 'd 
 have treated you the same way, only you came 
 up so light. I didn't know you were coming 
 till you crossed the room and put the flowers to 
 my face. They made me weak-like." 
 
 " The minister will come. I shall ask him," 
 said Deborah.
 
 HARVESTS AND HARVESTS. 163 
 
 Great was the marvel in the neighborhood 
 when the old dame who had been the Romaine 
 Court terror appeared on the street, grave and 
 decently dressed, and walked to church beside 
 Nurse Jamieson. The people said she had been 
 bewitched or charmed by " Miss." 
 
 Uncle Josiah had been made one of the offi- 
 cers of the church where they attended, and it 
 was not long before this old woman, called into 
 a new life so late, came to ask admission to the 
 communion. 
 
 "To what do you attribute this change? 
 What means did the Lord use?" asked the min- 
 ister. 
 
 Uncle Josiah expected to hear her reply that 
 it was the Christian kindness of his niece Deb- 
 orah. But no. The old eyes filled with tears ; 
 the old lips quivered. " I am eighty years old," 
 said she, " and seventy-four years ago, when I 
 was only six years old, my mother died. She 
 was a Christian ; she had taught me of God and 
 had prayed for me. When she was dying she 
 took me in her arms and said, ' My little girl, I 
 am going to God. I have prayed that God 
 would surely bring you to me in heaven, and I 
 know he will.' In all my wild and wicked life I 
 never forgot that. I did not see when or how 
 God could do it. I seemed bound for hell, not 
 for heaven, and yet I felt that some day God
 
 164 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 would lay a hand on me and answer my mother's 
 prayer and bow my soul to his will. The means 
 God has used are my mother's prayers." 
 
 " Deborah," said Uncle Josiah, "what do you 
 think of prayer that has waited seventy-four 
 years for an answer? And yet the Lord is not 
 slack concerning his promises, as some men 
 count slackness, but is long-suffering and will- 
 ing that all should come to a knowledge of the 
 truth !" 
 
 " But, uncle, why wait so long ? Why permit 
 so much sin ?" 
 
 " ' What I do thou knowest not now, but thou 
 shalt know hereafter,' " replied her uncle.
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 
 
 " Strong Son of God, Immortal Love, 
 Whom we, who have not seen thy face, 
 By faith and faith alone embrace, 
 Believing what we cannot prove." 
 
 ONE evening a gentleman knocked at Uncle 
 Josiah's door. " I have come," lie said, " to 
 thank you here for what has been done for my 
 great-aunt, old Mrs. Jensen, across the street. 
 Once each year I have come here to see what 
 can be done for her, and I was never allowed to 
 enter the den where she lived. I always have 
 found her hateful and hating all the world. But 
 to-day I found a change. Clean, quiet, orderly, 
 sitting there reading her Bible, filled with the 
 spirit of prayer ! One of God's own miracles of 
 grace has been wrought in her, and I hear from 
 the people in the house that the young lady 
 here was the instrument." 
 
 " Indeed no," said Deborah. " She says, what 
 is no doubt true, that all this is the answer to 
 her mother's prayers, that have lain for years 
 before God's throne." 
 
 " At least I thank you for what you have 
 done," he said, " and I want you to help me
 
 166 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 make my aunt comfortable. I think she will 
 feel better to go on living where she is, and I 
 believe that as an example of what God can do 
 for a sinner, she will be helpful in all this neigh- 
 borhood. Money is not wanting for all her 
 needs, and I would like to find some nice Chris- 
 tian young woman who would live with her and 
 take care of her when it is needed. I will hire 
 a second room, next to the one she has, and will 
 get any furniture that is needed." 
 
 " Nurse Jamieson will be the right one to 
 help you about that," said Uncle Josiah. 
 
 "And I think I know of a young woman 
 who would be glad of the place," said Deborah. 
 "She works in the candy factory where I do, 
 and she has lost her position, because she had 
 to be absent, taking care of a sister who har 
 died." 
 
 The stranger looked astonished when Deb- 
 orah spoke in such a matter-of-fact way of " work- 
 ing in a candy factory," but he only said that 
 any girl recommended by Deborah should be 
 engaged. " I am sure," he added, " that you 
 have been of the greatest use to my poor old 
 aunt, whether you doubt it or not." 
 
 " Perhaps," thought Deborah, " I shall in the 
 course of my life find many reasons why God 
 sent me down to the Lazarus Quarter to Hve, 
 and this may be one of them."
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. l6/ 
 
 As the visitor had said, the conversion of the 
 terrible Mrs. Jensen made a great impression in 
 the neighborhood. It furnished the staple of 
 conversation in Romaine Court for days. 
 " There 's something in a religion that can fetch 
 her" said one burly man, smoking on a door- 
 step, to his neighbor. " I have thought there 
 was n't very much in religion, but I vow, this 
 change in the old woman is like changing a bear 
 to a sheep. It beats all nature ! I mean to go 
 to the chapel and see what they preach there." 
 
 Others seemed to be of the same mind, for 
 the lately slimly attended services at the chapel 
 were crowded by a deeply attentive audience. 
 Once it was impossible to bring hearers to any 
 extra meeting ; now whenever the doors were 
 open people came, and all the chapel workers 
 were busy. 
 
 Uncle Josiah seemed to have friends on 
 whom he could call for aid in Christian work, 
 for he secured Bibles and hymn-books for the 
 increased audience, and visiting from house to 
 house, he had plenty of reading matter to leave, 
 and where he saw cases of need he found ways 
 of supplying Nurse Agnes with fruit, beef-tea, 
 and other delicacies, and sending her to help 
 mind and body. 
 
 " But I do n t believe in pauperizing people," 
 said Uncle Josiah ; " they do n't really like it, if
 
 1 68 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 they are of honorable feelings, and it does n't pay 
 in the long run. It is better to give them sym- 
 pathy, the friendly aid and little gifts of neigh- 
 bor to neighbor, and help them to help them- 
 selves." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said Nurse Jamieson, " but there 's 
 a warl o' work to be dune, to get a fair start for 
 them. I 't is to teach them hoo weel to use 
 what they ha' wi'oot pining for what they 
 hanna. It is to show them hoo to be decent in 
 their way o' livin'. I just wonner that mony o' 
 the people do no die o' dirt ; a' they think o' 
 health-keepin' is to tak' a dose o' medicine. I 
 preach to them, ' Better keep well than mak' 
 well,' but it is hard to mak' them heed. The 
 schules should teach sic things, an' the city 
 should gie squares an' parks an' fountains an' 
 proper inspection o' the hooses. I ken hoo it is. 
 A rich owner kens his hoose is unsatisfactory in 
 a sanitary way, but a bit bill slipped intil some 
 one's han' will mak' the report a' richt." 
 
 " Next winter I '11 give some lectures on san- 
 itary matters, and have a stereopticon and show 
 them the results of dirt, and scare them out with 
 bacteria and spores and germs," said Uncle Josi- 
 ah, laughing. " But now I shall have a different 
 meeting. I shall have a meeting at the chapel 
 for women and girls." 
 
 " What 's to hinder the men from coming ?"
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 169 
 
 " Nothing ; except that I shall invite all the 
 girls and women, and give them cards with the 
 subject of the hour on them. The cards shall be 
 square white ones, tied with a little blue ribbon ; 
 they will serve as a souvenir." 
 
 " They will cost money too," suggested Deb- 
 orah. 
 
 " Not very much ; and I have a fund, from 
 a man who is interested in mission work, to 
 draw on for just such things." 
 
 "And what is this subject for women, and 
 not for men ? And what do you, as a man, know 
 especially to tell these women ?" 
 
 " I shall tell them just what I shall tell men 
 some other time. I invite them alone to make 
 their meeting more sociable, and to arouse their 
 curiosity in what is entirely their own. As to 
 what I know to tell them, I know as a human 
 heart what goes home to human hearts, and my 
 subject will be the ' sympathy of Christ.' ' 
 
 " That is a very good subject," said Deborah, 
 " and I think a little talk about sympathy will go 
 home to some of those lonely, poor, neglected 
 hearts. Poor creatures ! they toil unhelped and 
 unthanked generally. They know so little of 
 sympathy and gratitude that they cannot even 
 cultivate such emotions in their children to re- 
 turn to their comfort." 
 
 On that Sabbath afternoon the chapel-room
 
 i/o MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 was full of girls and women for Uncle Josiah's 
 talk about the " Sympathizing Christ." Deborah 
 had invited the girls from the factory, and many 
 of them came. The chapel was a new place, 
 and the neighborhood of Romaine Court was a 
 little better than most of them lived in, so they 
 came more readily. 
 
 Deborah had for several weeks been practis- 
 ing hymn-singing with some of the usual atten- 
 dants upon the chapel services. She had never 
 expected to set up as a music mistress, but what 
 she knew was quite sufficient for the need, and 
 she began to take real interest in developing 
 voices that had any promise in them, and in 
 having the hymns well learned, sweetly sung, 
 and clearly pronounced. Uncle Josiah thought 
 that the singing should serve as part of the 
 preaching, and part of the praising and praying 
 also, plainly spoken, so that all might under- 
 stand. After several hymns had been sung 
 Deborah sang alone, " Come, ye disconsolate, 
 where'er ye languish." 
 
 To her horror, some of the factory-girls, re- 
 garding the chapel as about the same as a con- 
 cert-hall, clapped her vigorously. 
 
 But all these noisy demonstrations died away 
 into curiosity and interest when Uncle Josiah 
 read the chapter and began to speak of Christ 
 the human and divine in his errand among men.
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. I/I 
 
 Then he spoke of sympathy and its healing mis- 
 sion to worn and sorrowing hearts. Christ, he 
 told them, was the constant and tender sympa- 
 thizing Friend, lightening all human sorrows 
 by his compassionate sharing of them. 
 
 " Now," he said, " I shall show you that 
 Christ, by his nature and experiences, is fitted to 
 sympathize with us human sufferers. And then 
 I shall give you some instances where Christ 
 exercised this blessed and helpful gift of sympa- 
 thy. Take your Bibles, and let us seek out 
 these texts together, and then ask whatever 
 questions you like, or suggest other texts, or 
 read them. This is a social meeting. Do n't let 
 us be afraid of each other. Now if you will look 
 at Hebrews, the fourth chapter and fifteenth 
 verse, you will find these words, ' For we have 
 not a High Priest which cannot be touched 
 with the feeling of our infirmities ; but was in 
 all points tempted like as we are, yet without 
 sin.' You see there that in his human nature, 
 subject to temptations and the sufferings of 
 human flesh, our Lord is fitted to sympathize 
 with us. Now look at Matthew, eighth chap- 
 ter and seventeenth verse, and you will read, 
 ' Himself took our infirmities and bare our sick- 
 nesses.' " 
 
 "Oh ay," said Nurse Jamieson, "and weel 
 does the hymn say, Maister Josiah,
 
 1/2 MR. GROSVENORS DAUGHTER. 
 
 ' Our fellow-sufferer yet retains 
 A fellow-feeling for our pains.' 
 
 It is a thocht that has helped me to bear mony 
 an ane a little better than I would hae dune my 
 lane." 
 
 " Very good," said Uncle Josiah ; " I wish you 
 would all say what you think. Now look at 
 Luke, twenty - fourth chapter and part of the 
 twenty-sixth verse : ' Ought not Christ to have 
 suffered these things ?' That is, it was needful 
 that he should suffer for our sakes." 
 
 " Yes," said old Mrs. Jensen in her rough 
 voice, " and he did it willingly for us sinners. 
 That 's what comes home to me of his own ac- 
 cord, for such a wretch as I have been, loving to 
 do evil !" 
 
 " Turn again to Hebrews, the second chapter. 
 Deborah, you read us the tenth verse." 
 
 " * For it became him, for whom are all 
 things and by whom are all things, in bringing 
 many sons unto glory, to make the Captain of 
 their salvation perfect through sufferings,' " read 
 Deborah. 
 
 " Now then, if Christ, as Captain of a suffer- 
 ing people, became a better Captain for them by 
 experiencing suffering himself, I think we 
 should beware of rebelling against trouble, as if 
 it were undeserved or a cruelty inflicted upon us 
 by God."
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 1/3 
 
 " I know I never got half as much evil as I 
 deserved," said Mrs. Jensen ; " but, sir, I have 
 seen some very good people who had very much 
 trouble much more than ever I had. And 
 mine was of my own bringing about, and theirs 
 was not so." 
 
 " But I mak' no doot," said Agnes Jamieson, 
 " they guid folk made no a great to-do and quar- 
 rel aboot their trouble. The better they were 
 the more quietly they took the ill." 
 
 " Yes," said Mrs. Beck, Miss Grosvenor's fac- 
 tory friend, " that is like the Lord, ' for he was 
 led as a lamb to the slaughter ; and as a sheep 
 before the shearers is dumb, so he opened not 
 his mouth.' " 
 
 " Read the seventeenth and eighteenth ver- 
 ses, please, Mrs. Beck," said Uncle Josiah. 
 
 " ' Wherefore in all things it behooved him to 
 be made like unto his brethren, that he might be 
 a merciful and faithful High Priest in things 
 pertaining unto God, to make reconciliation for 
 the sins of the people." 
 
 " You see, these verses tell us why Christ by 
 his nature was formed to sympathize with a fee- 
 ble, sorrowful, suffering people. 
 
 " Now, Bella, you read Isaiah 63 : 9." 
 
 Bella, Deborah's fellow-worker in the candy 
 factory, had taken her place by the organ ; she 
 loved singing passionately a love that fre-
 
 1/4 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 quently led her to music-halls and cheap con- 
 certs, where she fell into dangerous company. 
 Deborah thought of that, as with a flush on her 
 pretty childish face Bella read from the place 
 which Deborah pointed out to her. Bella read 
 well ; Uncle Josiah was careful in his choice, for 
 many of his audience could neither read nor 
 write. Strange products, these, of nineteenth 
 century civilization ! 
 
 "This is a very lovely verse," said Uncle 
 Josiah " ' he bare them and carried them all the 
 days of old !' The image is of a kind shepherd 
 carrying the young lambs, the tired, sick sheep." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said Jean, carried back to her 
 Scotch tongue by association, " I hae seen that 
 long syne at home ! Wait a wee ! let me find 
 that too, an' mark it in my ain book. Read it 
 again, sir ; that goes to the heart !" 
 
 "Ah, but you who can read and have a book 
 to take home with you are lucky," sighed a poor 
 store-cleaner. 
 
 " Well, I mean to have a book with that verse 
 in it, and read it, whatever the priest says," 
 cried her neighbor. " ' In all their affliction he 
 was afflicted ' ! He Enows it all, ah !" 
 
 " Now, Deborah, let us hear the twenty-third 
 Psalm sung," said Uncle Josiah ; " that fits right 
 in here ; it is the Shepherd Psalm." Deborah 
 noticed how Jean's heart was touched, and how
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 1/5 
 
 her often defiant eyes filled with tears. This 
 Psalm carried her back to her mother and her 
 home. 
 
 Dora was there, seated next to Jean ; on 
 Sundays Dora usually found some excuse for 
 getting a sight of Deborah ; she seemed to find 
 strength and courage in Deborah's strength. 
 
 She pulled Jean's sleeve. " This makes me 
 think of my tract, the one I told you of, the 
 Dairyman's Daughter. I '11 lend it to you. It 
 will help you." She drew the little soiled, rag- 
 ged tract from her pocket. 
 
 " No, it wont help me," said Jean, eying the 
 treasure with disfavor ; " nothing like that helps 
 me to religion ; it has to be lived into me by 
 some one like her," she nodded towards Deb- 
 orah. She had spoken louder than she thought. 
 
 " Jean," said Uncle Josiah, " we are studying 
 about the living Christ, who willingly came from 
 glory to bear our burdens and carry our sorrows. 
 My little maid, read this verse that I have found 
 for you in Mark, telling how our Saviour was 
 hungry." 
 
 A little girl of nine rose up beside Uncle 
 Josiah to read. " Bless the child," whispered 
 old Mrs. Jensen, " she 's beginning early ; the 
 Lord send she 's never hungry. ' 
 
 With the fresh tones of the child's voice 
 mingled from the street the sound of another
 
 1 76 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 child's voice, a younger child, crying piteously. 
 Deborah could not endure it her heart had 
 grown very soft and tender to little ones. For- 
 merly she had paid no attention to children ; all 
 those about her had been well fed and well 
 dressed and overwhelmed with luxuries, while 
 nurses or French governesses stood always at 
 hand to admonish " do this," or " say that." Deb- 
 orah found these infants of the rich little attract- 
 ive ; they had lacked spontaneity and had failed 
 to win her heart. That was because she had 
 had but little heart to win ; she had not loved 
 first, to be loved in return ; she had not devel- 
 oped towards herself the sweetness of those 
 child-angels of happy homes ! Now the children 
 of the poor wrung her heart ; all that was repul- 
 sive in their persons and surroundings made her 
 only more tender towards them. When she 
 heard the wailing of this unseen child in the 
 street, she left the organ and went out softly. 
 She found, lying on the dirty pavement, a miser- 
 ably ragged and dirty baby of about two years 
 old. It had fallen and cut its face, and a little 
 line of blood mingled with tears and dirt. No 
 one had come to help it. It lay there in its 
 hopeless misery, abandoned by all. Deborah 
 picked up the child, and seeing a girl at a near 
 window, demanded, "Who owns this baby?" 
 "Nobody," said the girl roughly.
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 1 77 
 
 There was a pail of water on a bench in the 
 little lobby before the Mission Room. Deborah 
 sat down there, and with her handkerchief 
 bathed the slight wound and washed the baby's 
 face and hands. Then, as there seemed to be 
 nothing else to do, and she would be wanted at 
 the organ, she returned to her place, carrying 
 the child. Uncle Josiah was saying, 
 
 " Sometimes friends forsake us, or those 
 whom we love are ungrateful and unkind. Hus- 
 bands desert their wives, or children are unduti- 
 ful to parents. Christ has been through all such 
 troubles ; his friends forsook him and fled ; his 
 
 brethren did not believe on him. The blows 
 
 ^i 
 
 fell on his heart before they reached ours." 
 
 "Yes," said the store-cleaner, " that child's 
 father ran away, and then the poor mother died. 
 She died two weeks ago ; she struggled as long 
 as she could. The child is knocking about from 
 one to another, with no one rightly to care for 
 it." 
 
 "It is one of Christ's little ones ; we must 
 look to it," said Uncle Josiah. " Christ was the 
 Prince of outcast children ; he fled as a babe 
 from the wrath of Herod into Egypt." 
 
 The little child sat looking up into Deborah's 
 earnest, kind, pitiful face. That face seemed to 
 awake in its little aching heart a sense of all its 
 woes ; it put up its lips, tears rolled from its big 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor's Daughter, J2
 
 178 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 eyes, and sob after sob shook the poor frail thin 
 body. Deborah's heart was nearly broken : 
 what should she do? An older sufferer could 
 ask for what was needed, but this small, dumb 
 thing could only sob in its pain. She gathered 
 the desolate one to her bosom and bowing her 
 face upon its tangled head sobbed in sympathy. 
 Uncle Josiah was silent; to him these tender 
 tears were as a rain from heaven : God himself 
 had touched Deborah's heart and changed it so. 
 The women looking on cried a tear or two, and 
 all hearts were softened and made more open to 
 the message of the sympathy of Christ. Jean 
 rose and went out. 
 
 Uncle Josiah opened to the fourth chapter of 
 Mark, and read of Christ in the storm. " Have 
 you thought how very tired he must have been, 
 sleeping so heavily in all the storm ? And the 
 words that arouse him are unjust words, ' Carest 
 thou not that we perish?' Remember that he 
 does care, that he always cares, and he is with 
 us in every storm ; we can cry to him." 
 
 Jean returned and sat down by Deborah. 
 " Here is what the puir bairnie wants," she whis- 
 pered ; " it is hungry. Look, I got a bun and a 
 cup of milk." At the sight of food the child sat 
 up and held out both hands with a gasping cry. 
 Jean put the cup to its lips. Deborah broke off 
 a fragment of bread and dipped it in the milk to
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. 179 
 
 feed the hungry one. Engaged in these services 
 for the child, these two heads bent together; 
 Jean's red curls cropped in a prison! rested 
 against Deborah's smooth, dark, shining hair. It 
 was a tender sight, and moved Uncle Josiah so 
 that he could scarcely control his voice as he 
 rose to read passages that told of Christ's sym- 
 pathetic love of children, his gracious sympathy 
 for mothers. 
 
 The child, having satisfied its hunger, lay 
 back against Deborah's arm and slept. She gave 
 it to Jean when Uncle Josiah requested them to 
 sing, " When I survey the wondrous cross." 
 
 After that came the story of the woman who 
 had been bowed with a spirit of infirmity for 
 eighteen years and was loosed from her bond- 
 age on the Sabbath day. 
 
 " Praise God," said old Mrs. Jensen, " that 
 reads like me ! That is my story ! Satan bound 
 me, and Christ loosed me oh, blessed be his 
 name !" 
 
 "Pray for me," said Jean, lifting her face 
 from above the child ; " I need help : I often feel 
 as if I were falling into the fire !" 
 
 " Jean," said Uncle Josiah, " when the flames 
 kindle upon thee thou shalt not be burned, for 
 Christ has prayed for thee that thy faith fail 
 not." 
 
 When the meeting was over Deborah went
 
 i8o MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 home carrying the child. "What wull ye do 
 with the bairnie, my dear ? " asked Agnes. 
 
 " Wash it first," said Deborah, the practical. 
 
 When she had the youngster sitting in a tub 
 of warm suds, its few poor rags looked so terri- 
 bly filthy that she calmly put them all into the 
 fire. Therefore, when the baby was scrubbed, 
 and her hair cut, washed, and curled, lo, a sweet, 
 clean little cherub without a thread of clothing ! 
 But Deborah was a young woman of resources ; 
 two pocket-handkerchiefs, a towel, and a box of 
 small safety pins provided her a little waist and 
 a skirt ; the child smiled, and played with the 
 pins that fashioned and held together these 
 garments. Nurse Jamieson stood by laugh- 
 ing. 
 
 " My lambie, you mind me of when you were 
 a bit lassie, playing with your dolls. Many 's 
 the time your nurse had to take you and your 
 elegant dolls, clothes and all, out of the bath-tub ! 
 You were aye fond of water." 
 
 " But this baby cannot be laid on the shelf 
 like a doll," said Deborah, " and what am I to do 
 with it ? Nobody's baby ! and a creature to live 
 for ever. O Uncle Josiah, what a terrible world 
 it is!" 
 
 "As for the child," said Uncle Josiah, "to- 
 morrow I can take it to my old home, where 
 there is a good woman who will gladly be a
 
 THE FOUNTAIN OF SYMPATHY. l8l 
 
 mother to it. She has been wanting to adopt a 
 child for some time." 
 
 " Then I should think you would have found 
 her one before," said Deborah with vivacity. 
 " Will she love this one and be kind to it ?" 
 
 " I can answer for that ; nothing shall be 
 lacking." 
 
 Deborah mused a moment. " Uncle, things 
 seem to come so easily and so exactly to your 
 hand, in working among the poor ! How does 
 it happen ? You are surely just the one for a 
 city missionary. Do all the city missionaries 
 have such friends back of them as you seem to 
 have ?" 
 
 Nurse Jamieson laughed and began to set the 
 table. 
 
 " I wish," continued Deborah, " that I had 
 my money back, so that I could keep two or 
 three people busy providing homes for just such 
 pathetic, pitiful little creatures as this ! Oh me, 
 how I have wasted opportunity !" 
 
 When Uncle Josiah started off with the child 
 next day, Deborah said, " Tell your Mrs. Willis 
 to write you how the little one prospers, and tell 
 her to call her Theodora, and to feel that she is 
 God's gift."
 
 1 82 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. 
 
 " Lest she should fall and perish utterly, 
 
 God, before whom lie ever bare 
 The abyssmal depths of personality, 
 Plagued her with despair." 
 
 WHEN Deborah went with her uncle to the 
 Sunday afternoon meeting it had not occurred 
 to her that she would there receive any benefit 
 to herself. Of late she had thought so much 
 more about religion, and spoken of it so much 
 more, that she had become pretty well satisfied 
 with her spiritual experiences; she hardly 
 thought of herself as needing any further 
 enlightenment. But she had begun to lead a 
 life of self-abnegation and duty-doing and of 
 thought for others, so, as Uncle Josiah wished 
 her to go to the meeting, and her music and 
 example would be alike useful, she deprived 
 herself of an afternoon rest and went to the 
 chapel. Then to Deborah it happened as to one 
 who sees some object long familiar in a new 
 light, or as suddenly filled with new glory. 
 Deborah had thought that she knew about the
 
 GATHERED IX SORROW'S GARDEN. 183 
 
 life of Christ, his character, his work, and under- 
 stood, even by some personal experience, what 
 he might be to the human soul. But as she 
 watched those worn, anxious, eager faces, and 
 heard the words about the sympathy of Christ, 
 words which by some thirsty souls were drunk 
 in as the parched ground receives the summer 
 rain, this seemed some strange, new truth which 
 she was hearing. Had Christ ever before seemed 
 to her one half so human, one half so divine? 
 She had secretly felt that she, Deborah Grosve- 
 nor, born in the house of Dives, had accepted 
 very patiently and very beautifully the change 
 in her fortunes ; that she had been very gentle, 
 gracious, and condescending in making friends 
 with these working-girls. But oh what was all 
 this compared to that " infinite stoop " beside 
 which all human lowliness seems only pride or 
 hard compulsion ; what was all her making 
 common cause with these toiling women, com- 
 pared to the grace of Christ, who made himself 
 of no reputation and came seeking and saving 
 the lost ? 
 
 Now this new work which began in Debo- 
 rah's soul made her first hate and suspect her- 
 self, accusing herself of hardness and of hypoc- 
 risy, and even despairing of having any part at 
 all in the Lord Jesus, seeing that she had been 
 content to know him so slightly and esteem him
 
 1 84 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 so little. She also weighed her recent work in 
 the balances, putting- the Christ method in the 
 one scale and her own in the other. 
 
 " I have been sympathizing with a class and 
 on general principles," said Deborah. " Except 
 in a few cases, I have felt as if it would be a 
 degradation to my refinement to give love to 
 those struggling, apathetic, half-tidy, often noisy 
 neighbors of mine. What I have given has been 
 dole and duty, not the spontaneity of the heart 
 pouring out its treasure in sympathy, giving 
 love first and then service. Do I love any of 
 these people about me? Honestly, no. Do I 
 love even good Nurse Agnes ? I fear no ; and 
 yet she loves me most devotedly. Have I culti- 
 vated love even to my Uncle Josiah, my last and 
 only relative? I have loved myself so much 
 more than that good, gray head ! And all the 
 while how much Christ has loved me !" 
 
 And now into the soul of Deborah grew a 
 new, deep love for Christ, and a longing for his 
 daily companionship ; and side by side with this 
 love for him grew a true love for the lost whom 
 he came to seek and to save. 
 
 Her heart being now enlarged, she began to 
 wonder where Oliver spent his evenings, and 
 found that he spent many of his hard-earned 
 dimes for lessons in vice taken at a Dime Mu- 
 seum and a Dime Varieties Theatre. Nor was
 
 Mr. Grosvenor's Daughter. Page 185.
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. 185 
 
 Oliver the only boy who did this. She beheld 
 hundreds of boys going headlong to perdition, 
 not a hand held out to save. But Oliver was the 
 one that might be within her grasp. What 
 could she do for Oliver ? Sacrifice the one thing 
 that reminded her of former rest and ease, her 
 evenings on the house-top, where Uncle Josiah 
 had set plants in pots and tubs brought from that 
 very obliging, philanthropic florist? Deborah 
 sighed and hesitated ; but Christ " pleased not 
 himself !" Oliver was invited to the house-top ! 
 She brought there for him books and papers. 
 She played dominos with him and Uncle Josiah 
 played checkers. She told stories and remem- 
 bered riddles, and Oliver travelled into fairyland 
 when she told tales of foreign countries where 
 she had been. 
 
 " Aunt Hodge says I 'm a plague to you, 
 coming every night," said Oliver bluntly ; 
 "but I can't keep away now unless you chase 
 me away. Seems like up here was just 
 heaven !" 
 
 Yes, it was worth this last little sacrifice. 
 The boy had a cleaner skin, a clearer look, 
 better manners, softer tones, nobler thoughts, 
 higher principles day by day. 
 
 While Oliver was entertained on the house- 
 top, Jean sat with Nurse Agnes below and 
 talked of Scotland and of childhood and of
 
 1 86 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " mither," and Nurse Agnes' sweet old quaver- 
 ing voice sang " Rouse's Version." 
 
 Deborah was learning how to draw near to 
 the girls at the factory in a real heart sympathy, 
 to find out their private grief, and to deal, not ii 
 generalities, but in especial comfort for especiall 
 needs. This one had an old blind father living 
 with her ; he had been a church-goer once, but 
 now he could not read, and churches were so far i--. 
 
 A* 
 
 away from their quarter. Here was a case for vtr 
 Uncle Josiah. Deborah told him about the blind 
 man, and Uncle Josiah visited him, read to him, 
 sent a boy to lead him to the Mission Chapel, and 
 found a lame man whose eyes were good, who 
 agreed to read often to the blind man, Uncle 
 Josiah paying some small stipend for the ser- 
 vice. Another girl had a sick mother, and to 
 her Deborah sent flowers, and even fruit, which 
 came from Uncle Josiah 's ever liberal florist. 
 To the lame sister of Bella she sent little toys, 
 cards, and mementos which Uncle Josiah was 
 always finding " where the goods were stored." 
 While all this lightened the burden of sorrows a 
 little, and made Deborah the most popular girl 
 in the packing-room, it was very discouraging to 
 see how little all her best efforts accomplished. 
 As she and Uncle Josiah sat on the house-top, 
 she said, " Uncle, as I read somewhere, it is all 
 a beggarly little effort to alleviate human misery
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. l8/ 
 
 by dividing eighteenpence equally between thir- 
 teen poor people." 
 
 " As far as that goes," said Uncle Josiah, " if 
 the thirteen poor people are in desperate need, 
 and eighteenpence is all that we have, let us di- 
 vide it. Common sense uses the tools it has. 
 Castaways on a desert island, and needing a boat, 
 do not refuse to make a raft of logs and bamboo 
 bindings where there are not tools at hand for 
 a better craft. When only one human soul is 
 helped and uplifted, who can measure the good 
 that may grow out of that ? If one man were 
 helped, really helped to be better and happier, 
 to-day, and two to-morrow, and four next day, 
 and eight the day after, how long would it take 
 to alter the moral status of humanity ? This is 
 a kind of arithmetical progression that it would 
 be well to study." 
 
 "Yes; but oh how I want to do some great 
 thing !" 
 
 " It is God's part to open the gate ; you have 
 to stand ready to enter !" 
 
 It was one morning at the factory when the 
 heat and the noise and the smells from the 
 street were more intolerable than ever, when 
 after talking of their troubles for a time one 
 of the girls was threatened with hysterics. 
 
 " Fan her," said Mrs. Beck ; " but where is a 
 fan?"
 
 1 88 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Give her a drink of water," said another. 
 
 " Water ! They have not filled the cooler 
 since yesterday morning ; and a pretty cooler it 
 is, with never any ice allowed us." 
 
 " Let me bathe her head with it any way," 
 said Deborah ; " and now, Katy, rest a while. I 
 am a fast worker ; I will hurry and do my work 
 and yours, too, for an hour." 
 
 Katy leaned her head, sobbing, against the 
 window. Twenty girls in that room, and no 
 seats but one chair and a couple of old boxes. 
 Bad for them to stand so all day, was it? 
 Never mind only working-girls, and the own- 
 er must make money, even if it was the price of 
 blood. 
 
 " If we worked in Jews' shops we should be 
 better treated," sighed one. "The Jews always 
 give the best treatment ; they have wit to see 
 that in the end it pays better." 
 
 And now into the hum of angry or despair- 
 ing voices came the soft strains of 
 
 " Art thou weary, art thou languid, 
 
 Art thou sore distressed ? 
 ' Come to me, saith One, and, coming, 
 
 Be at rest.' " 
 
 Thus sang Deborah. The spell fell on the 
 other girls, and they listened. But just as calm 
 and better cheer were coming, the foreman, 
 loud and angry, tramped in, scowling and
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. 189 
 
 snorting. " Stop this din ! I wont stand the 
 row you girls keep up here." 
 
 "There is no row, Mr. Cullen," ventured Mrs. 
 Beck ; "all are busy." 
 
 " This room is for working, not for singing ; do 
 you hear that ?" and Mr. Cullen planted himself 
 before Deborah, belligerent. 
 
 " The girls are hot and tired," said Deborah, 
 " and they are helped, not hindered, by what I 
 am singing. You know and have said yourself 
 that this room gives the best work for the hours 
 of any ; and here we never quarrel." 
 
 " I want no talk from any one," said the fore- 
 man ; " and as for your singing, be done with it, 
 and hold your tongues, all of you." 
 
 Deborah laid down the box she was filling ; 
 her face flushed, and the old-time pride of the 
 daughter of Dives rose up in her eyes. " I am 
 going down to speak to the firm," she said, and 
 walked out of the packing-room, stately, her 
 head held high. She went down to the office 
 where the partners were seated each at a desk, 
 each smoking. Neither of them took his cigar 
 from his mouth ; each one felt that he was not 
 expected to treat a working-girl as if she were a 
 lady. " I came," said Deborah, " to complain of 
 your foreman, Mr. Cullen. The upper room is 
 excessively hot ; there is not a fan in the room ; 
 no ice is allowed us ; the water in the cooler has
 
 190 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 not been renewed for two days ; we have but one 
 chair and two empty candle-boxes for seats, and 
 when the girls are faint they are obliged to lie 
 down on the floor. To-day I was trying to calm 
 their restlessness, and cheer them by singing to 
 them, and Mr. Cullen came in suddenly and with 
 abusive language ordered me to be silent. Is 
 there any law here against singing a hymn 
 when it does not interfere with the work, but 
 rather helps it on ?" 
 
 " There 's no law against singing, but there 
 is a law that the foreman must be obeyed. How 
 else could we get on ?" 
 
 " True ; but when the foreman is rough and 
 cruel, is there to be no complaint and no re- 
 dress ?" 
 
 " No ! for then there must be investigation, 
 and that takes time, and time is money. Put up 
 with what you get, or go; that is all we can 
 offer." 
 
 In came Cullen. " Oh you 're here, miss ! 
 What have you made out by complaining ? In 
 my view the sooner you are out of this estab- 
 lishment the better. You are one of the Social- 
 ist women, stirring up the girls to strikes and 
 rebellions and unions." 
 
 " Pay what is due her, Cullen, and say no 
 more. That will be the shortest way out of it," 
 said the senior partner, resuming his writing.
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. 19 1 
 
 Thus it happened that Deborah only returned 
 to the upper room to get her hat and her sun- 
 umbrella. 
 
 " I 'm glad you 're out," said Uncle Josiah. 
 " A gentleman whom I know is going to send 
 six children from the slums down to an old 
 farmhouse by the sea for a month. The house 
 is empty, but has some furniture enough to get 
 on with. He will send down two young women 
 to do the work, and you can go and be matron 
 and house-mother. Do you know of the right 
 girls to go with you ?" 
 
 "Yes!" cried Deborah; "let me take Bella 
 and her little lame sister, and poor sickly Katy. 
 They 11 get on. If they do n't, I will teach the 
 children to help them." 
 
 Within three days Miss Deborah Grosvenor 
 was off for an outing unprecedented in her ex- 
 perience. She had charge of six children from 
 the slums, and of two young girls who were 
 simply such children grown up and toned down 
 by hard work. Very little angelic in any of 
 them. They had been born and cradled and 
 bred in the roughness of poor homes, with hard- 
 worked mothers, drunken fathers, no religion, 
 no education the street for playground and 
 educational institution. Deborah was appalled 
 at the language which she heard. And yet how 
 much she found in all these rough diamonds to
 
 192 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 love and admire! She concluded that, left to 
 their fate, she would not have been half as 
 good as the worst of them ! Six weeks she 
 stayed at the old farmhouse by the sea. The 
 rooms were scantily furnished, the beds were 
 hard, the table was plain, but after all she en- 
 joyed her outing. The daughter of Dives 
 learned to dig sand-wells and build sand- 
 houses and make mud-pies; to pick blueber- 
 ries and wild plums, hunt for wintergreens and 
 fish with pin-hooks. She heard more slang than 
 in all her life before, and she was told tales 
 of fights and ejectments and arrests and hair- 
 breadth escapes that made her shudder; but 
 what then ? these were facts, and thus she en- 
 larged her experiences. Two years before, the 
 richest of toilets, a carriage and pair and two 
 servants, were her reasonable accompaniments 
 of a seaside visit. Now two-dollar boots and a 
 rough hat, a gingham gown and cotton gloves, 
 were her array, and a set of freckled gamins 
 were her attendants. 
 
 Home once more, and the duty of looking 
 for a place once more pressed upon her. Per- 
 haps places were more plentiful than in the 
 spring. But after three days of walking, apply- 
 ing, answering advertisements, she was again 
 discouraged. One afternoon she was sitting 
 alone at home ; Nurse Agnes had gone out to
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. 193 
 
 help a sick neighbor. There was a knock and 
 a brisk, pleasant-faced young man entered. 
 
 "Are you Miss Grosvenor? I come from 
 Rendel Brothers' shirt factory," he said. " They 
 wish to engage you as forewoman for the finish- 
 ing-room." 
 
 " I think you must have made a mistake," 
 said Deborah, " and were sent not to me, but to 
 some one else." 
 
 " Oh no, indeed. I have it all right name, 
 number, and all." 
 
 "Still there must be a mistake, because I 
 know nothing of the business at all. I never 
 saw a shirt made, and do not know what is done 
 in the finishing-room," said Deborah honestly. 
 
 " Why, it is easy," said the young man ; "they 
 make the stud-holes and the button-holes, and 
 finish off the ends of the thread, and sew on the 
 red initial letters, and well, such small things 
 as that." 
 
 " But for a forewoman they need one who 
 understands." 
 
 "You will have an opportunity of learning 
 your duties first. They sent for you. You 'd 
 better take a good thing when you get it, and 
 they want you. They sent for me just that way 
 as assistant bookkeeper. You '11 come up and 
 see them to-morrow, wont you? Twenty-five 
 dollars a month it is. The firm are going in for 
 
 Mr. GroBvenor'e Daughter. J*
 
 194 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 new fads : liberal wages, ventilation, good treat- 
 ment, the do-as-you 'd-be-done-by style. Of course 
 they '11 bankrupt at it. If it was the possible way, 
 other firms would have tried it. But it will be 
 fine while it lasts. Some new partner has gone 
 in who believes in an all-round arrangement 
 and bringing Christianity into your business. I 
 reckon it can't be brought, or some of it would 
 have got into business sooner. What they are 
 after is a forewoman who has manners and sym- 
 pathy, and will try to improve the girls. You 
 can pick up the finishing, and you look as if you 
 could keep order and put down any fooling. 
 You 11 be up there to-morrow morning?" 
 
 " Yes," said Deborah, " I will go over and see 
 what is wanted." 
 
 " Perhaps it is just the opening that is need- 
 ed for you," said Uncle Josiah. " You may do 
 good there." 
 
 " But it seems dishonest to take a place for 
 which I am not fit." 
 
 " Make yourself fit." 
 
 " Ay, ay," said Nurse Jamieson, " tak' what 
 is offered ye. ' He that winna when he may, 
 shanna when he wud.' It is an auld saying, 
 ' Birth 's gude, but breeding 's better.' Ye hae 
 baith birth an' breedin , and ye may mak' them 
 o' use in a shirt factory as weel as in yer ain 
 drawing-room when ye had ane."
 
 GATHERED IN SORROW'S GARDEN. 195 
 
 " It seems as if I 'd be taking the place of 
 some one who by knowledge of the work had a 
 better right to it ! I give out so soon. Why 
 have I not more staying power to endure hard- 
 ship like the other girls ?" 
 
 "You were no brought up like the lave, 
 dearie," said Agnes. 
 
 " ' For daisies liven weel 
 
 Whaur roses canna grow.' " 
 
 " I ceased to be a rose long ago," said Debo- 
 rah. " I belong now to the kitchen-garden order 
 of vegetation. Uncle, if this great thing does 
 happen, I shall try and make a place for Jean 
 and Oliver, they have followed my fortunes so 
 faithfully." 
 
 Applying with some misgiving at the office 
 of Rendel Brothers, Deborah was well received. 
 " We had heard of you and think you are the 
 person we want here. Honest work for fair 
 wages, and mutual good offices between em- 
 ployers and employed these are our ideas. 
 We want to raise the moral and mental status 
 of our working-girls. We want to put them in 
 a fair position to work well, and then we shall 
 expect them to work well. Keep order, demand 
 faithfulness and thoroughness, and try to make 
 the girls feel that we are friends and not ene- 
 mies. As for the finishing work, you can apply 
 your taste and judgment to that, and an expe-
 
 196 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 rienced workwoman will give you the points as 
 to shirt-finishing. The foreman of the estab- 
 lishment will tell you all that you need to know 
 about the business." 
 
 So Deborah, much to her surprise, found 
 herself set up as forewoman in a great factory, 
 where she was to put in operation Christian 
 and philanthropic principles, as well as demand 
 good work in fine shirt-finishing.
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 " Go back to earth, thou pilgrim empty handed, 
 Go back to hunger and the toilsome way ; 
 Complete the task which duty has commanded, 
 And win the palm thou hast not brought to-day." 
 
 IN the shirt-factory Deborah found herself in 
 an entirely new atmosphere. The gentleman 
 who represented the firm treated her with cour- 
 tesy, even deference. Deborah, who had not yet 
 become stereotyped in those manners with which 
 it is supposed to be proper for the hireling to 
 treat the employer, found herself sometimes 
 falling into familiar conversation with him, as 
 easy, perhaps a trifle more sensible than her 
 aforetime interlocutions with the sons of Dives. 
 
 " I do not understand why you offered me 
 this position. I fear, in my ignorance of shirt- 
 making, I may prove a failure." 
 
 " We especially wanted some one to help us 
 uplift our girls. It is not easy to find a woman 
 really interested in the improvement of the fac- 
 tory girls, knowing what they need, and able to 
 command their respect. From what we heard 
 of you we felt that you would be the right one 
 for this position." 
 
 " In searching for work, and in working in
 
 198 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 various establishments," said Deborah, " I have 
 gained some experience of the girls, their needs, 
 their disadvantages. I have learned to sympa- 
 thize by being of them and sharing their troubles. 
 But while I have learned something of what is 
 needed, and greatly desire to ameliorate the con- 
 dition of workers, I have also grown nearly 
 hopeless of improvements ! So much money, so 
 much personal sacrifice, will be required. Who 
 will give themselves and their income to God in 
 such work ? How can the wants of the working 
 classes be supplied ? I have found out that the 
 profits of many business houses are not large, 
 competition is so sharp. Perhaps I realize more 
 fully than some what a small margin some of 
 our manufactories have." 
 
 " No doubt ; but if we cannot do everything 
 that we would, let us still do something. There 
 may be much that is beyond our power ; let us 
 do what is within our power to uplift our girls. 
 We have here over one hundred women, mostly 
 young, working for us. The wages are low ; we 
 shall try to raise them by degrees, but mean- 
 time we shall try to improve the social, moral, 
 and physical condition of the girls, so that they 
 may use their wages in the best way possible. 
 Speak your mind, Miss Grosvenor what are the 
 immediate needs?" 
 
 " In all my experience of factories," said
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 199 
 
 Deborah, " fair ventilation and toilet facilities are 
 the exception, not the rule. Health would be 
 improved, working force conserved, comfort and 
 propriety of appearance much increased, ex- 
 haustion, irritation, fainting fits, headaches, 
 largely prevented, if ventilation were good and 
 the dressing-room comfortable. You have only 
 two windows in our room that let down from 
 the top : some cannot be raised at all. You have 
 one large dressing-closet, in good order, for a 
 hundred and twenty-five workers ! In the candy- 
 factory there were two ; in the box-factory only 
 one, and that one out of order. The close stuffy 
 working-rooms and lack of water cause dizziness, 
 faintings, hysterics, dull, sallow complexions. 
 The girls feel that they have a right to such 
 conditions of work as shall enable them to pre- 
 serve whatever they have of strength and beauty. 
 They can hardly be expected to work with zeal 
 and good cheer when their lives and health are 
 disregarded." 
 
 Mr. Ames made a note in his book. " We 
 want a model establishment : speak your mind," 
 he said calmly. 
 
 " The girls do not have time to go home 
 for dinner. They bring a lunch. At noon 
 they should be out of the work-rooms, and 
 the rooms should be thrown open and well 
 aired. The girls need a change at noon-time,
 
 200 MR. GROSVENOR S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and now, unhappily, some of them get it by go- 
 ing out with men acquaintances to saloons or to 
 beer-shops. At these bars the girls hear bad 
 language, meet ill-disposed persons, and acquire 
 a taste for liquor which in the end sends many 
 of them to the penitentiary. These noon asso- 
 ciations also end often in hasty, unhappy mar- 
 riages. We should have a room with seats, a 
 table or two, a melodeon, a few pictures, some 
 books, papers, and magazines ; a stove where the 
 tea, coffee, soup, or milk can be heated ; a few 
 simple appliances for gymnastics. The gym- 
 nastics will straighten the bent shoulders, 
 broaden the sunken chests, give a better poise 
 to the drooping heads. What a different look- 
 ing set of girls we should have ! And improve- 
 ment in health, looks, and associations would 
 soon bring improvement in behavior." 
 
 "Behavior? That is it. That is what we 
 are wishing to improve." 
 
 " I think the first and finest method for ob- 
 taining that improvement," said Deborah, "is 
 for the employer to be personally acquainted 
 with the workers. Let him go among them as 
 a friend, interested in their welfare, not as a 
 sharp critical task-master. Giving them kind- 
 ness and justice, he will inspire them to give 
 kindness and justice in return." 
 
 " I have no doubt that that is so. I will bear
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 2OI 
 
 it in mind. Help me, by noticing what goes on. 
 If you hear of wrongs practised in this estab- 
 lishment, let me know it and they shall be re- 
 dressed." 
 
 " It was a wrong that brought me here just 
 now," said Miss Grosvenor. " In the bosom- 
 making room there is a girl who came by some 
 accident late this morning. It is a raw rainy 
 day ; the girl was locked out by the foreman for 
 being late. She had to walk the streets for 
 nearly five hours, without either umbrella or 
 overshoes ! Is she made of iron to endure such 
 exposure as that? She is in my room now, 
 drenching wet. I have had her take off her 
 shoes and her poor ragged stockings, and rub 
 her feet with the only crash towel that has been 
 put at the service of one hundred and twenty 
 working-girls! This girl is exhausted, nearly 
 fainting. Did a half-hour's lateness, caused by 
 sickness in her home, deserve such a barbarous 
 punishment?" 
 
 " That is outrageous !" cried Mr. Ames, who, 
 naturally generous and impulsive, was doubly 
 stirred by Deborah's vehemence. " I will not 
 have a man in the establishment who can be 
 guilty of such an atrocity !" 
 
 But Deborah was just, and capable of looking 
 at both sides of a question. Mr. Stokes had 
 been cruel, but had perhaps acted only accord-
 
 202 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing to his light. If he were discharged his 
 family might suffer. She interposed for him. 
 
 " He may have done only what he has been 
 trained to do in other establishments, and sup- 
 posed perhaps that he was consulting your in- 
 terests. He would not repeat the act if forbid- 
 den. Besides, the affair now is to help the girl 
 herself." 
 
 Mr. Ames called for Stokes. "Go to the 
 nearest restaurant and order a hot dinner sent 
 over for this Annie Keep that has been locked 
 out. Buy also for her a gossamer and a pair 
 of overshoes. Then step here, will you, and 
 you and I will talk over this matter of disci- 
 pline. You do not quite understand our methods, 
 I think." 
 
 Stokes went out confounded. He had worked 
 in factories for twenty years and had never seen 
 a working-girl thus considered ! 
 
 Deborah administered to Annie a hot dinner, 
 dry foot-gear, and an exhortation against tardi- 
 ness. 
 
 " I declare, Miss Grosvenor," said the girl, 
 " I will try to be prompt and regular. I know 
 we girls do make trouble by being late or stay- 
 ing away, and here we get better treatment 
 than in most places where we work. Mr. Ames' 
 kindness will do me more good than twenty 
 lockings out."
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 203 
 
 " And what next ?" asked Mr. Ames, when 
 the shirt factory of Rendel Brothers rejoiced in 
 a long, narrow, fairly well lighted room, with a 
 stove at one end, a table to eat by, some small 
 tables for games and books ; a melodeon that 
 was seldom silent at the noon-hour and con- 
 tributed much to the general pleasure, especially 
 when Deborah herself played on it ; and a few 
 simple appliances for gymnastic exercises. 
 Deborah went to an evening class in gymnas- 
 tics, held at the Young Women's Christian As- 
 sociation, and by zealous practice there was able 
 to instruct her girls. 
 
 " What next ?" asked Mr. Ames. 
 
 Deborah had grown bold with indulgence; 
 people often do. 
 
 "A place for the girls in the evenings! 
 Their homes or rooms are often crowded, noisy, 
 hot in hot weather, cold in winter. They are 
 weary and dull after a long day's work, they 
 crave amusements like other people, and they 
 wander about the streets. Then they fall into 
 bad company sometimes, and usually stay out 
 far too late, so that they do not get sleep 
 enough. If the girls of reputable, Christian 
 homes are not expected or allowed to run alone 
 in the streets until ten or eleven o'clock, why 
 should the working-girl be left to do it un- 
 checked ?"
 
 204 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I 'm sure I do n't know why she should," 
 said Mr. Ames. 
 
 " Let us have a room where we can give our 
 girls singing-classes in the evening. I don't 
 mean merely to have ladies dress up and sing 
 at them, but some one who knows how to sing 
 with them, plain simple songs, ballads, hymns, 
 easy pleasant things, lullabies, and songs that 
 shall rouse a love of nature. Let us teach them 
 to march to music, so that they will learn better 
 how to carry themselves and to be graceful. 
 Who knows where some of these girls may 
 come out ? Fortune has strange changes in this 
 country." 
 
 "And what else shall we do beside music 
 and marching?" 
 
 " We might have lectures, lectures by men 
 and by women, especially by women, who will 
 tell them how and why to preserve health, what 
 to eat, what to wear, what to do. Let them 
 know why their skins need thorough washing 
 and their clothes changing, and that graham 
 bread is more nutritious than white, and eggs 
 than meat, and bananas than candy. Let us 
 have stereopticon talks, and show them the 
 Polar Regions, the Heart of Africa, the 
 Queens of England, the scenes of Puritan and 
 Pilgrim life. Let us tell them the stories of the 
 Bible, and make them acquainted with the
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 205 
 
 heroes of the faith ! And poetry, let them hear 
 poetry too!" 
 
 " Miss Grosvenor, it is plain to be seen, even 
 if ' and then Mr. Ames stopped suddenly. 
 What was he about to say ? 
 
 "How can we arrange such a room?" asked 
 Mr. Ames. 
 
 " Can we not begin by using the largest ma- 
 chine-room for it ? There is a chair for every 
 machine." 
 
 " We will do something," said Mr. Ames. 
 " I am deeply interested, and the firm desires 
 to have a model establishment." 
 
 "There is a regalia factory on one side of 
 you, and a paper-bag factory on the other. Why 
 not induce them to join you?" 
 
 " Why the girls in the bag factory are a ter- 
 rible crew ! The employer there declares 
 openly that so long as he gets plenty of work 
 well done, he does not ask nor care how bad his 
 girls are ! It is an old saying, ' Like master 
 like man,' and it is just as true of masters 
 and factory girls. If they are expected to 
 be good, and helped to be good, then it is very 
 likely that they will be good." 
 
 " Mr. Ames is to have a room for evening 
 gatherings, a social room," reported Deborah to 
 Uncle Josiah ; " and I suspect that I am exorbit- 
 ant in my desires, for the more that is conceded
 
 206 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the more I want, and the more miserable I feel 
 about the daughters of the poor into whose 
 family circle I have come by adoption." 
 
 "What now?" demanded Uncle Josiah. 
 
 " The moral condition of these my working 
 sisters is influenced for evil, tremendously influ- 
 enced, by the tenement-house system. How far 
 their homes are from their work, and some shops 
 are always open until late, and at some seasons 
 of the year most shops and factories run late ; 
 and home the unprotected girls go, especially on 
 Saturday night, alone. Then again, I find that 
 rents being high and wages low, these poor fam- 
 ilies eke out an income by crowding men lodgers 
 into their over-crowded homes. And then too 
 from village and country the girls crowd into 
 the city, a vast army, looking for work, and they 
 have no homes, no guardians, no restraints ; they 
 suffer every conceivable misery, fail to find 
 work, and are cast into long periods of idleness 
 which they enter penniless, because their wages 
 are only sufficient for the most exacting needs of 
 the periods while they are earning them. Oh, 
 uncle, it is the old cry what shall we do for our 
 sisters?" 
 
 " There are Homes and the Christian Asso- 
 ciations." 
 
 " Yes, uncle, good, but insufficient. In some 
 the board is five or six dollars a week. Five or
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 2O/ 
 
 six dollars for a girl without a dime ! What is 
 that old story of Tantalus, with the waters rising 
 just below the lowest level of his thirsty lips ? 
 Others of these Homes will only receive lodgers 
 and boarders, for two weeks, some for a month. 
 At the end of that time they must go, whether 
 or not they have secured work or home. What 
 then ? The time of being cast helpless on the 
 streets is only set a little further off. Two 
 weeks ! one month ! Did I get work so soon ? 
 Is work so easy to get ?" 
 
 Then Deborah gave a little low laugh she 
 laughed more now than in Dives' days. " Do you 
 know, Jean has the greatest influence over the 
 girls at the shirt-factory ? What do you think I 
 did ? Since we took on Bella and Martha and 
 that pretty little dunce who wanted to tend a 
 bar my friends from the candy-factory I per- 
 suaded Jean to hire two rooms and all four of 
 them live together. Jean with her courage and 
 knowledge of the world defends the others, and 
 their company and her responsibility for them 
 help to keep Jean from falling. I believe she 
 is a Christian, but the chains of habit are so 
 strong ! and the hand of Christ is often held out 
 through the human hand ; his voice speaks in 
 humanity !" 
 
 And now for a whole year Deborah Grosvenor 
 reigned as forewoman in a shirt-factory finishing
 
 2o8 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 room. She learned much about shirt-finishing, 
 much about herself, and a deal more about work- 
 ing women. She was so busy that she had no 
 time to repine, and learning many things for the 
 use of her girls, she improved much on her own 
 part, while the gymnastics and other exercises 
 entered upon for the sake of the girls made 
 her much more active and vigorous then she 
 had been when she fed on dainties and lay 
 in down, and did nothing from morning until 
 night but consider the preferences of Miss Gros- 
 venor. 
 
 During all this time since she left the region 
 of luxury and went down to live and work in the 
 Lazarus Quarter, she had corresponded with 
 some regularity with Miss Leila Stirling. At 
 first she had shrunk from replying to Leila's 
 warm letters. Then she began to relent a little 
 before hearty human interests, and wrote more 
 freely of her life, her experiences, her work, the 
 ways and fortunes of working-girls. To all 
 these revelations Leila lent a willing ear, and the 
 two began to plan what might be some day, if 
 ever they could work together for the Daughters 
 of Lazarus. 
 
 When Deborah had been one year in the 
 shirt-factory, she received from Leila news of the 
 death of Mrs. Stirling. Deprived of the close 
 companionship of years and of that demand for
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 2OQ 
 
 constant service which her invalid mother had 
 made upon her, Leila felt as if she had neither 
 place nor errand longer in this world. " What 
 have I left ?" she wrote to Deborah. 
 
 " You have your Lord's legacy left you, the 
 poor," replied Deborah. " For this cause you 
 may have come to the kingdom at such an hour 
 as this. You have been bereft of all near rela- 
 tives, but your fortune has been left you. I was 
 bereft of fortune, and I have gone before you in 
 the way of finding out the needs and sorrows of 
 the poor. Now I can tell you what is needed : 
 mine will be the work of suggesting, but how 
 grand your mission, Leila, in performing ! Come 
 home and go to work." 
 
 The letter roused Leila Stirling. She came 
 home with large plans and hopes, and her first 
 proposal was that Deborah should live with her, 
 share her fortune and work jointly with her. 
 " You have had enough of hardship," she said. 
 
 " I have known nothing of real hardship," 
 said Deborah, " because Nurse Agnes and Uncle 
 Josiah have shielded me from it. If you knew 
 the real lives of the working-girls, Leila, you 
 would know what hardship is." 
 
 They were in Deborah's small hall room in 
 Romaine Court. Deborah wore a dress of plain 
 coarse woollen goods a dress made by herself. 
 Her shoes no longer cost eight dollars a pair; 
 
 Mr. GroBvenor's Daughter. 1
 
 2io MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 not a bit of lace or jewelry was to be seen on 
 Dives' disinherited daughter. Leila thought 
 that this was poverty and hardship enough. 
 
 " You will not come and share with me ?" 
 
 "No; your voice calls me, but I feel sure 
 it is not God's voice." 
 
 Leila went away disappointed ; her home 
 looked so lonely. Why would not Deborah 
 come to her ? She left the city to go to her 
 country home. 
 
 A bridge, a trestle giving way ! a crash ! 
 and when helping hands came, there was laid 
 by the roadside, in the moonlight, a limp and 
 lonely form.
 
 THE RETURN TO THE CLASSES. 211 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 THE RETURN TO THE CLASSES. 
 
 11 ' O angel, why art so glad of face, 
 
 Who bring'st me nothing but pain and woe ?' 
 The smile of the angel filled the place : 
 4 Unto his chosen God bids me go.' " 
 
 A KNOCKING at midnight at the door of a 
 house in Romaine Court. " Does Miss Grosve- 
 nor, Miss Deborah Grosvenor, live here?" Even 
 in the darkness and the haste there was the 
 touch of astonishment felt by the servant of 
 Dives that a daughter of Dives had fallen so 
 low ! Yes, Miss Grosvenor lived there. " It is 
 Miss Leila Stirling sends for her. I have the 
 carriage at the entrance of the court. I thought 
 maybe I could not turn. It is a railroad acci- 
 dent, and Miss Leila is hurt. She spoke first a 
 few minutes after eleven and said Miss Grosve- 
 nor's name twice, so we came for her. Will she 
 hurry, please ?" 
 
 Yes, Deborah and Uncle Josiah made haste, 
 and soon, along the paved streets and under the 
 electric lights, rolled far from the purlieus of 
 Romaine Court, back to the land of affluence. 
 There was Leila lying, unconscious again, 
 amid the splendors of her city home, where they
 
 212 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 had brought her ; three doctors, her nurse, her 
 maid, her housekeeper crying, most of the 
 women, for Leila was one to win liking; and 
 then, very evidently, a good, easy, well-paid 
 place was slipping from each of them as life 
 slipped from their shattered mistress. There 
 was not one of Leila's blood near her ; not one 
 endeared to her by the tie of kindred. Deborah 
 took the limp white hands in hers and softly 
 called Leila's name in her ear. At first there 
 was no answering sign, but presently the chilly 
 hands tightened a little about Deborah's fingers. 
 
 " Deborah," said Uncle Josiah, " God has 
 called you here, and you must stay as long as 
 he wills. This way lies your nearest duty." 
 
 " Yes : I cannot leave her, my Leila, my 
 friend !" said Deborah, kneeling by the bed. 
 For the moment the sight of Leila this inte- 
 rior, so like the home of her own life until this 
 short time past carried Deborah away from all 
 that had intervened since her father's death, 
 and it seemed to her that she was as free to go 
 and come as in her days of ease. Then the 
 working woman reverted to the thought of her 
 work. The factory ! Her duties there ! She 
 led Uncle Josiah apart. 
 
 " Uncle, I cannot leave Leila, but how can I 
 abandon my place, and leave all those girls 
 to-morrow morning without a head? I have
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 21$ 
 
 them in good training, but there will be anar- 
 chy there, sure. And the firm have been so 
 good to me !" 
 
 "Cannot you designate some one to take 
 your place ? Jean ?" 
 
 "Jean could not. She lacks a breeding that 
 would give her authority. In fact, if she was 
 suddenly elevated to be a forewoman the girls 
 would try to play tricks upon her, and Jean 
 would fight ! I will tell you Martha can take 
 my place. She is a woman of intelligence and 
 education ; she has never associated much with 
 the others. Tell Mr. Ames to give Martha my 
 position ; and tell Jean privately that I expect 
 her to lead the girls in a strict attention to 
 order. Tell Jean while this dear friend here 
 lies dying, that she, my other friend, must not 
 break my heart by any fall ! And, uncle, look 
 after Oliver." 
 
 " I will. You are already, in your love and 
 cares, one of this large family of the poor. Christ 
 also belonged to it." 
 
 Yes; following God's providence as the 
 pointing of a divine index finger, Deborah had 
 gone down among the world's workers to find 
 work: following still the way chosen for her, 
 and therefore chosen by her, she came back to 
 the home of Dives. She had learned, in the 
 words of the good old Saxon proverb, to " Doe
 
 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ye nexte thynge," and found comfort in the 
 thought that the child of God never walks with 
 aimless feet. The great fruit of this lesson well 
 learned is, that with undivided hearts we can 
 address ourselves to the duty of the hour, giv- 
 ing all of ourselves to whatever we have to do. 
 
 Sitting in the subdued light of Leila Stir- 
 ling's quiet room, and watching the thin white 
 face, Deborah felt dawning over her soul a 
 strong conviction that Leila ought to live, that 
 her errand in this world was not done, that 
 work still waited those hands. She went into 
 the next room where one of the surgeons waited. 
 " Doctor, will she live ?" 
 
 "There is very little probability of it not 
 one chance in a hundred." 
 
 " And if she does live, if that one in the hun- 
 dred is in her favor ?" 
 
 "A cripple," the doctor replied, "who can 
 never leave her couch. She had better die, 
 poor lonely girl !" 
 
 "How do we know," said Deborah boldly, 
 "what is best? One can glorify God in the 
 fires. And if God is glorified and humanity is 
 served, what is there to lament over? The 
 longest life is not very long, and heaven will 
 find reward for it all." 
 
 The doctor, a gray-headed man, rose and 
 took her hand. " Is this Deborah Grosvenor, the
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 21$ 
 
 Deborah Grosvenor who used to say that she 
 had no heart? who lived only for self, whose 
 ears seemed unable to understand language that 
 touched religion or the life beyond?" 
 
 " This," said Miss Grosvenor, " is Deborah, 
 " somewhat made over in the fires of affliction." 
 
 "Then, my child, thank God for affliction. 
 Gold is refined in the furnace, and silver is long 
 tried by fire, and the fine pottery is made of 
 well-trodden clay. Yet many of us are content 
 to build up character out of untempered mortar ! 
 If you have grown better, less selfish, and so 
 more Christlike, out of any trouble, thank God 
 for it." 
 
 " I do," said Deborah. " But I came here to 
 speak of Leila. I want her to live. She was 
 just beginning really to live. She was planning 
 to do good. I want her to carry out her plans. 
 Even if she is a cripple on her couch, if she has 
 a head to think and a heart to feel, and money 
 to do her bidding, she can be happy and make 
 the world happier. The shut-in ones are not 
 idlers and wasted lives." 
 
 "Deborah," said the surgeon, "we will try 
 and give her courage to live. You can hardly 
 realize the power that that thing called spirit 
 can exercise over that other thing called body. 
 It can help stay the disintegration of disease, 
 and turn back towards life the tides that have set
 
 216 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 towards death. Look at Leila : consider what her 
 future may be. Have you courage to pray ?" 
 
 " Yes," said Deborah ; " I have always cour- 
 age to pray, if I put in ' Thy will be done.' " 
 
 And so the days went on. At first Leila was 
 scarcely conscious, and the battle was purely a 
 physical one, urged in her behalf by scientific 
 skill and tenderest care. During these days she 
 only saw her nurses, physicians, and Deborah. 
 Friends and acquaintances came to inquire for 
 Miss Stirling, and Deborah, after a few days, 
 went down to the drawing-room to see some of 
 these. Uncle Josiah had sent her a trunk of 
 clothing which she had not used in Romaine 
 Court. Thus she re-appeared in the Stirling 
 drawing-room, among the old-time acquaint- 
 ances, as truly one of the upper class as ever. 
 
 " Why ! This is never Deborah Grosvenor ! 
 How came you here?" 
 
 " I came to stay with Leila and help her to 
 live." 
 
 " And where have you been for so long ? 
 Nearly two years ! What an age ! Have you 
 been to Europe or on a trip around the world ?" 
 
 "Neither. I have been here in the city all the 
 time." 
 
 " Impossible ! Where have you buried your- 
 self? We heard that you had lost all your 
 money. Of course that is not true."
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 
 
 " Yes, it is absolutely true, and I have been 
 living in a place called Romaine Court, working 
 for my living in a factory. My uncle has been 
 with me, a city missionary." 
 
 " Eh ? What is that ? I thought mission- 
 aries only went to the heathen to foreign folks." 
 
 " For that matter, there are plenty of foreign 
 folks here in the city, and plenty of heathen, 
 and a number of city missionaries, but not half 
 enough. I should like to be one myself only I 
 did not know enough." 
 
 " Why, you had French and music and draw- 
 ing and dancing, and no end of accomplishments ; 
 what on earth did you need to know more ?" 
 
 "Something useful, and something about 
 humanity. However, I am learning." 
 
 " And what are you learning?" 
 
 " How the other half of the world lives, 
 what it needs, what it has, what it does not have, 
 how it makes its living, and what can be done 
 for it. I mean for the women other half." 
 
 " I do n't understand a word that you are say- 
 ing. You might as well be talking Greek to me." 
 
 " If you will come and live and work as I 
 have for two years past, you will soon find out 
 what I mean." 
 
 " What, really work in a factory among hor- 
 rid grimy people ! I should catch some disease, 
 or get queer, or something."
 
 218 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I have caught no disease, but I may be 
 queer. And let me tell you, if Leila gets well, 
 I mean by God's help to make her as queer as I 
 am. Then there will be two of us to help our 
 sisters who work for daily bread Leila with 
 money, I with work." 
 
 " I hope she will get well, poor dear ! It 
 seems so terrible to die, to drop out of life so 
 suddenly ! I wish people never had to die. Per- 
 haps when I am real old I shall not be so horri- 
 bly afraid of death as I am now. I wish I could 
 lose that fear." 
 
 " Come down and live among the poor, and 
 you '11 lose it. I find people there more afraid 
 of living than of dying. When life is only ter- 
 ror and pain I think people care less for it : but 
 when one feels sure that heaven is a home, and 
 that there is a Father and a Brother, and the 
 glorious company of the saints of all ages, I 
 think that the heart is drawn there, and all fear 
 of dying is done away." 
 
 " Deborah Grosvenor ! You are not the same 
 at all ! Of course with poor Leila lying up there 
 as she is, and all that, it is natural that one 
 should talk so. But I feel just as if I had been 
 to a funeral! And yet you don't look as un- 
 happy and discontented as you used to, Deborah. 
 You always looked so bored !" 
 
 -" Because I was so bored. Now I have been
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 2 19 
 
 too busy to be bored. I have been doing my 
 best to get shoes, also butter for my bread. I 
 am very sorry, Grace, that I have made you feel 
 like a funeral, for I am a much happier and more 
 contented person than I used to be. If all of 
 you girls that I used to know took up some 
 really useful, helpful work, you would be happier. 
 I do n't mean that you should go to the factory 
 and earn shoes, as there is no need of that, but 
 I mean that you might work, like more fortu- 
 nate but loving and helpful sisters, for the girls 
 that must work in factories and earn their 
 shoes." 
 
 " You '11 get over all those crochets now that 
 you have come back to live where you belong. 
 As for those other girls, they are used to it, and 
 I do n't believe they mind it ; and if they do, it 
 can't be helped ; the subject is too big. I 'm 
 afraid, Deborah, you are running into com- 
 munism or socialism, or something like that. 
 Do n't have a fad of that kind, I beg of you, it 
 is such bad form. If you must have a hobby, it 
 should be dogs pugs, for instance or orchids, 
 or perhaps china collecting." 
 
 " Go and spin," laughed Deborah. " If our 
 grandmothers' wheels had not gone out of date, 
 some of us would have been more sensible. We 
 respect what we earn, because we know the 
 worth of it in work and weariness, in what we
 
 220 MR. GROSVENOR S DAUGHTER. 
 
 call ' hard knocks.' I never appreciated luxury 
 or money of my father's earning, because I 
 never knew what it meant in thought and toil. 
 I have found many of the working women su- 
 perior to myself and some of my old acquaint- 
 ances, because they know more, are more useful 
 and more self-sacrificing." 
 
 "If I wasn't so afraid of being insulted or 
 catching something, I would go down there with 
 you and see some of them." 
 
 " You would not be insulted, nor catch any- 
 thing. I hope to take you and many more 
 ' down there ' some time, to be helpful." 
 
 After a time, as Leila grew better, Deborah 
 narrated such conversations to her, a little at a 
 time, to divert her thoughts. 
 
 " I had hoped to do something," said Leila, 
 "but now it is ended." 
 
 " Not ended perhaps, but to be begun, and 
 carried on far better than ever," said Deborah 
 hopefully. " Take courage to live, and God will 
 give you work. Let me read you a strong sweet 
 lesson which you can ponder as you lie here. 
 ' Make your burdens as light as possible, not by 
 ignoring them, but by putting the sunshine of 
 love and resignation into them. Bear them in 
 the Spirit of Christ. Carry them in the strength 
 of the Lord. See in them a gracious purpose. 
 Make the best of them. Be neither soured nor
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 221 
 
 dwarfed by them, but rise superior to them, 
 manifesting continually that they are your 
 servants, not your masters. Whatever their 
 number or peculiarity, so bring the grace of 
 God into them that the issue shall be the chas- 
 tened temper, the bright buoyant soul, the mel- ' 
 lowed character, and the sweet attractive life.' " 
 
 " What did you mean by it, Deborah ?" asked 
 Leila, several hours after. " I have kept the 
 ideas, though I lost the words. What did you 
 mean by it for me ?" 
 
 " Beloved," said Deborah tenderly, " I meant 
 that you should desire to live, and be a co- 
 worker with God in your return to life, willing 
 now to grow a little stronger and better daily, 
 and by-and-by willing to look for and accept the 
 work that God shall give for head, hands, and 
 purse, even if the feet are held in the strong 
 chains of weakness." 
 
 Day by day, week by week, even month by 
 month such was the slow progress of Leila 
 Stirling towards even so much of health as 
 would bring her power to see her friends, to 
 talk with them, to be propped up half erect upon 
 her couch, to think and will and decide for her- 
 self. During all this time Deborah stayed with 
 her, hourly at her side. She administered the 
 household in Leila's place, attended to her 
 business, received her friends, was the link be-
 
 222 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tween her and the outer world, and, once more 
 surrounded by luxury, waited on by servants, 
 knowing no lack, she seemed to have left the 
 portion of the poor toiler and returned finally to 
 the house of Dives. But in her heart Deborah 
 was not severed from the comradeship which she 
 had chosen in the ranks of working women. 
 
 Uncle Josiah and Nurse Agnes came to see 
 her, and she went to see them. Sometimes she 
 went in Leila Stirling's carriage. Then great 
 was the excitement in Romaine Court at the 
 elegant barouche, the high-stepping matched 
 horses, with gold-mounted harness, and the 
 coachman and footman in livery, while " their 
 young lady " was seated on the soft cushions. 
 
 " I knew you would go from us," sighed Mrs. 
 Werner. " It is right ; it is good. You belongs 
 up there. Here is not good enough for you." 
 
 " It is good enough for me, and I am coming 
 back as soon as my sick friend can be left," said 
 Deborah stoutly. "I belong here, and I shall 
 live here." 
 
 On these occasions Deborah was reckless; 
 she carried oranges, grapes, bananas, boxes of 
 candy, and distributed them to the disinherited 
 children around Romaine Court. She took, as 
 Leila's bounty to the Day Nursery, toys and 
 picture-books and hammocks. She took a soft- 
 cushioned chair to Bella's little lame sister. She
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 223 
 
 explained that her sick friend sent the gifts, but 
 all the same the people believed that they came 
 from her. 
 
 " You care for us ; you know us ; your friend 
 does not know us and does not care ; one must 
 know to care." 
 
 It was the old story. He who came to save 
 men was made in fashion as a man. One must 
 somehow know to care. How should Leila 
 Stirling learn to know ? 
 
 "She is learning," said Uncle Josiah, "by 
 the discipline of her sufferings. She is set 
 apart from her former life, and is consecrated 
 by pain to ministry to those who mourn." 
 
 "Is it worth all this?" asked Leila, when 
 Deborah told her. Those wakeful nights, those 
 long days of heart-ache, were so hard. 
 
 "Be of good courage," said Deborah ; " it is 
 worth it all. It will seem to you to be more and 
 more worth it as eternity goes on. When the 
 harvest is gathered we shall see it was well 
 worth while to sow seed even in cold or heat, in 
 toil and rain." 
 
 One evening Uncle Josiah, when he called, 
 told Deborah that some of her working-girl 
 friends had been to see her, and had been 
 driven away by Leila's supercilious servants, 
 and were greatly grieved and angered. " They 
 were fools," they said, " to believe that the young
 
 224 MR - GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 lady would see them, or let poor people into her 
 fine new quarters." This hurt Deborah sharply. 
 
 " Make them understand that I knew nothing 
 of it," she said, "and that they are to come back, 
 and shall surely come in. If they are not ad- 
 mitted I will not stay here." 
 
 But Leila gave positive orders that all who 
 called for Miss Grosvenor were to be admitted, 
 taken to the drawing-room, and treated with 
 courtesy. Moved probably by curiosity, they 
 came again, eight of them together, headed by 
 Jean and Bella, soon after night-fall, and Deb- 
 orah found them drawn into an embarrassed 
 group in the splendors of the electric-lighted 
 drawing-room. She went to them holding out 
 both hands in simple friendly fashion. 
 
 " My dear girls ! I am so glad to see you ! 
 You must spend the evening with me. Come 
 with me and take off your hats and capes." 
 
 " Mebbe other folks are coming, and we '11 be 
 in your way," said Bella, finding Deborah very 
 impressive in her trained cashmere tea-gown, 
 with all these gorgeous things about her. 
 
 " No one is coming, and I am ever so glad to 
 see you all," said Deborah, and when their hats 
 were laid by, they made a half-circle around the 
 glowing fire in the large grate and the talk be- 
 gan about the work-room. 
 
 " How do you get on ?"
 
 ON THE ALTAR OF SACRIFICE. 22$ 
 
 " We want you back !" cried Jean. " Nobody 
 seems to have the care for us that you do. No 
 one manages us as well as you do. You are not 
 going to stay away for ever, are you ?" 
 
 " No ; just as soon as my friend is able to be 
 left, I shall leave her and go back to you." 
 
 " It is awfully good of you to come to us, and 
 share our work and our ways, if you do n't have 
 to, and might live among all this gorgeousness," 
 said Martha. " But we want you to come. No 
 one advises us as you do, no one sees just when 
 one is going wrong, and stops us in time, as you 
 do. No one thinks of the wet feet, the sore 
 throats, and favors the weak eyes as you do." 
 
 " When you were there something new was 
 invented for us every week ; nothing is invented 
 now, but the old things keep up." 
 
 " It is good that things keep up, and by-and- 
 by we will have something new invented by the 
 joint genius of us all," said Deborah. 
 
 Then after all was talked over, and the ab- 
 sent girls asked after, Deborah played for them 
 on the grand piano, showed them the portfolios 
 of engravings and told them the meanings of 
 many of them, took them into the little conser- 
 vatory and cut flowers to make a button-hole 
 bouquet for each girl, and then had refresh- 
 ments of jelly, pickles, sandwiches, and choco- 
 late, served in the dining-room. She had no 
 
 Mr. Orosvnor's Daughter. J
 
 226 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 hesitation in rifling the conservatory or in order- 
 ing refreshments; she was giving herself to 
 Leila and taking away herself from these girls, 
 and it was but right that Leila's abundance 
 should give them some measure of compensa- 
 tion. It was ten o'clock before they reluctantly 
 turned towards their homes. 
 
 " Come again, and bring the others," said 
 Deborah. "By-and-by Miss Stirling will be 
 able to be carried here to the sofa and see you 
 all. She is as much interested in my friends as 
 I am." 
 
 " She cannot be like you" said Bella ; " you 
 are one of us ; you have lived and worked with 
 us. Yes, we will come again ; this evening has 
 been like a piece of heaven."
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 22/ 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 
 
 " And knows not if it be thunder, or a sound 
 Of rocks thrown down, or one deep cry 
 Of great wild beasts ; then thinketh ' I have found 
 A new land, but I die.' " 
 
 "I WANT to know all those girls," said Leila 
 to Deborah, when she had been told about the 
 company that had been entertained at her house. 
 " Let us have some of them here often, once a 
 month or once a fortnight. It will be a rest 
 and pleasure to them, and will help them upward 
 in manners and health and higher aims. Then 
 too, Deborah, you know my house in the coun- 
 try ; it is a lovely place, and after this, as I shall 
 never be able to move or travel very far, we will 
 stay there for six months each year, going the 
 first of May, and we will invite five or six of 
 these working-girls, or women, for three weeks 
 at a time, and so keep up the succession for all 
 the time we are there. We can give nearly fifty 
 a nice country holiday each year. Will not that 
 be delightful ?" 
 
 " Very delightful, dear. I hope you will do it." 
 
 " Say we will do it," urged Leila. " You and 
 
 I will always be partners, like twin sisters, only
 
 228 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 you will be strong and wise and enterprising, 
 while I am weak, and follow where you lead. 
 Half of all that I have is yours, dear Deborah ; 
 let us live united." 
 
 Still the shadow remained on Deborah's face. 
 Lelia was not yet well enough to be left ; but 
 when the day should come that others could do 
 for her what Deborah did, Deborah felt that then 
 she must return to the place and work where she 
 believed that God had called her. Leila detected 
 this hesitation. 
 
 " Speak, Deborah," she said, with the hasti- 
 ness of the invalid. 
 
 " I will be with you for a time, dear." 
 
 " For always," insisted Leila. " What do you 
 mean by hesitating ? If your own fortune had 
 been left you still, would you refuse to use it, and 
 go and live in Romaine Court and work in the 
 factory? Would you?" 
 
 " I should never have known the need there 
 is down there." 
 
 " Well, suppose somehow your fortune came 
 back your own : would you refuse it ? Would n't 
 you use it?" 
 
 " Yes ; as well as God should give me grace. 
 But if it were in me still to be a selfish idler, I 
 hope God would keep me poor ! Leila, under- 
 stand me. If I had now, with the views I now 
 have, my own former fortune, I hope I should
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 22Q 
 
 consider myself God's trustee for it, and feel 
 that I had no right to divest myself of it, be 
 cause he had appointed me to use it for Him. I 
 should obey him in holding and administering 
 it, as I now try to obey him in going without it. 
 But taking half of your fortune, and leaving the 
 ranks into which God ordered me, is a very dif- 
 ferent thing from using what he put into my 
 hands. You can keep all your property and use 
 it rightly for God and humanity. I can give 
 myself. If I were feeble and helpless, and could 
 do nothing for myself or others, I should feel 
 that this offer of yours was God's way of caring 
 for me. As it is, I only regard it as a test or 
 trial of my willingness to work His will in my 
 new sphere." 
 
 " But, oh, Deborah, what will you do, what 
 will /do?" 
 
 " For me, I will, after you are a little stronger, 
 go back to my girls and my work. I will come 
 to see you every evening or nearly every even- 
 ing, and we will talk over all that comes into my 
 experience, and we will plan what to do, and by 
 degrees I will make you as well acquainted with 
 the people as I shall be : and then what splendid 
 work you can do ! These evening visits and the 
 country holidays are good, very good ; but to the 
 greater, wider, more useful work which we shall 
 build up, such things will only be a little bind
 
 230 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing or braid to the whole garment. The Ren- 
 del Brothers are trying to start and keep up a bus- 
 iness on liberal, helpful principles. They will 
 surely bring other large employers to fall into 
 line with them. Who knows but that you, 
 through your business agent, may start or buy 
 out some large business, and conduct it also on lib- 
 eral and gospel principles ; and so the work will 
 widen and commend itself, and spread in our 
 city, and become known in other cities, and 
 other hearts may be moved to serve God in bless- 
 ing his poor and hold property as for Him. 
 Who knows how far the work may go ? The 
 labor of working women may be revolutionized." 
 
 " Oh, Deborah, if I were strong and well to 
 work as you can, I should have something of this 
 great hope that you have ! But, just as I was 
 waking up to bear fruit for others, this strange 
 blight or winter has fallen over my life and 
 withered me away !" 
 
 " Aaron's rod blossomed when all Israel 
 thought it but a long-dead stick. The trees seem 
 dead, and yet awake after the winter full of 
 buds. Remember what is said : 
 
 1 He reached the glory of a hand 
 That seemed to touch it into leaf, 
 The voice was not the voice of grief, 
 The words were hard to understand.' 
 
 So God's hand can touch you and make this
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 231 
 
 shut-in waiting life your richest life. ' More are 
 the children of the desolate' remember that." 
 
 " Yes, I do, and at times I feel resigned. 
 Then again I feel as if I could not endure my 
 lot. I question why I was not left as I was be- 
 fore ; why I did not die outright, rather than be 
 left half alive in this way." 
 
 " My dear, your heart and head are not half, 
 but all alive. Live in them. They are the real 
 potencies. Christ can work in you that absolute 
 submission which he had to the Father's will. 
 
 ' Thou seemest human and divine, 
 The highest, holiest manhood thou ; 
 Our wills are ours, we know not how 
 Our wills are ours to make them thine.' " 
 
 " While you are here to help me I remember 
 all this, and it is easy ; when you are gone what 
 shall I do ? Deborah ! it seems as if one as 
 afflicted and helpless as I am had the first best 
 claim on you. Is it right to leave me ?" 
 
 " Yes. You have money, that potent conju- 
 ring-rod of the nineteenth century. That can 
 command for you all comfort that science can 
 bring to your state, all the service and help 
 that civilization can afford. There are women 
 who are hounded on to heavy, bitter work by 
 poverty, who work with failing eyes and labor- 
 ing chests and aching, distorted spines ; who 
 work and suffer till they can toil no more, and
 
 232 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 drop into the almshouse, a hospital, or the pot- 
 ter's-field. Your money, Leila, can bring you 
 some one to take all of my place that shall be 
 vacant. You can find some gentle, loving, 
 gracious, skilful woman, who will be companion 
 and friend to you, while I shall be your helper 
 and agent in work. There are no doubt to be 
 found ministers' widows or daughters, or girls 
 suddenly impoverished as I was, who need you, 
 and whom you will find just what you need. In 
 securing such a one you open one more avenue 
 in life for some self-supporting woman. You 
 will get a new friend, will widen out your sym- 
 pathies just that much, while I am doing the 
 other work that I am perfectly well able to do. 
 I wish you knew how many working-girls there 
 are who work with not half the help or the 
 physical ability that I have, while they are borne 
 down with the sufferings and cares of sick pa- 
 rents or feeble little children, and I am grieved 
 for no one near in kindred. Strange, is it not, 
 Leila, that there are lives so hard that it is bet- 
 ter to be deprived of sweetest ties rather than 
 to see dear ones share our pain ?" 
 
 Deborah had a fancy for standing behind the 
 curtains and watching the streets when the 
 lamps were first lighted. For two or three even- 
 ings she had seen the same form of a nearly 
 grown lad loitering near Miss Stirling's home,
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 233 
 
 going and coming, and looking towards the win- 
 dows. Suddenly something struck her as famil- 
 iar in the gait and the shape of the shoulders. 
 Running down stairs and out upon the steps, she 
 called, 
 
 "Oliver! Oliver! is that you?" 
 
 "Yes, miss," said Oliver coming up, half 
 pleased and half abashed. 
 
 " Well, why did n't you ring and come in ? 
 I 'm sure you want to see me." 
 
 " Yes, miss ; but I dare n't take the liberty." 
 
 " However, I want to see you, so come in. 
 Here, hang up your hat on this rack. Did you 
 rub your feet on the mat ? That is a good fellow ; 
 now come in and tell me how you have been 
 getting on." 
 
 Oliver looked uneasily about the drawing- 
 room and at the plush-cushioned chair to which 
 he was pointed. " It 's too good for me, miss," 
 he said, casting a glance at his clothes. 
 
 " Nothing is too good for a man who is trying 
 to behave himself. Do n't you think when you 
 get to heaven, Oliver, things will be finer than 
 in this room ?" 
 
 " Ay, miss ; but I '11 be changed over and 
 made fit." 
 
 " You '11 have left these working-clothes be- 
 hind you certainly," said Deborah, smiling, " but 
 now the change, the fitting you for heaven, is go-
 
 234 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing on, and I want you to remember, Oliver, that 
 an honest working-man, who fears God and 
 keeps his life clean, is good enough to go frank- 
 ly and simply anywhere that it comes into his 
 way to go." 
 
 " Thank you, miss," said Oliver, straighten- 
 ing himself. 
 
 " Have n't you been about here two or three 
 evenings?" 
 
 " Five or six," said Oliver ; " our night-school 
 teacher is sick and we have the week ; and I 
 thought maybe I 'd get a look at you, and it 
 would do me good, and brace me up to keep out 
 of mischief." 
 
 " Oliver, where have you to go evenings 
 when there is no school and it is not warm 
 weather fit for our house-top ?" 
 
 " Nowhere, miss, except at our home ; and 
 mother and aunt and the little ones are there, 
 and a lot of neighbor women, with each one a 
 baby maybe ; and I 'm in the way, like, and it is 
 dull and crowded. Sometimes I drop in to see 
 Jean and the girls with her, but they have their 
 own talk going on, and I 'm only a boy. I prom- 
 ised you I 'd keep out of saloons, and if I stand 
 about the street corners I 'm kind of sick of the 
 talk and stories the men have there. Since you 
 taught me a bit I don't like such ways." 
 
 " Do you like to read?"
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 235 
 
 " I 'm getting to like it. But I have n't 
 books, and I do n't know what to pick up. My 
 teacher says not to touch the bad ones." 
 
 " Wait here a minute," said Deborah, her face 
 shining with a happy thought. She went up 
 stairs and after a few moments came down. 
 
 " Here, Oliver, Miss Stirling says to take this 
 envelope to the Young Men's Christian Associa- 
 tion to-morrow, and it will make you a member, 
 and give you the freedom of the reading-room, 
 the gymnasium, lectures, all the good things 
 they have there ! Now you '11 have a place for 
 evenings ! Practise in the gymnasium ; it will 
 straighten you and give you better health. 
 Oliver, how would you like to own a home like 
 this some day ?" 
 
 " There 's most too much in it," said Oliver 
 cautiously. 
 
 Deborah looked about. " I believe it is over- 
 crowded with small articles of useless luxury. 
 But after all, Oliver, people earn a living by 
 making and selling those things. You would 
 like to own a home full of comforts, where you 
 could be happy and make other people happy?" 
 
 The time had come to arouse ambition in 
 this boy to give him an object in life. His 
 glowing face responded to the conjuration. 
 " Indeed I would, miss !" 
 
 "Work hard, then, with an end in view,"
 
 236 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 said Deborah. " Ask God to to be your helper 
 in all that you do, and who knows how high and 
 noble a place you may gain !" 
 
 As daily Deborah was thinking of returning 
 to the factory work, daily the need of the girls 
 pressed upon her heart, and finally she said to 
 Leila one evening, "To-morrow I am going 
 back, for the day, to my room at the shirt fac- 
 tory, to see if I am needed there as much as I 
 fancy that I am. I have promised the firm to 
 go back." 
 
 " I hope you '11 find that they are better off 
 without you than with you," said Leila ; " then 
 you will be ready to stay with me." 
 
 " People sometimes greatly overestimate their 
 importance, and perhaps I do mine," said Debo- 
 rah, laughing. 
 
 So next morning, while most of the Stirling 
 household slept, Deborah rose, put on her work- 
 ing dress, which she had worn when she took 
 that night ride to Leila's home, ate her break- 
 fast alone in the butler's pantry, and at seven 
 o'clock appeared in the shirt-finishing room. 
 All was at once uproar. The girls scorned 
 work hours, and crowded about her, anxious 
 to touch her, to speak to her, to look into her 
 smiling eyes, and to hear the full, cheery tones 
 of her voice. She brought new life into the 
 finishing-room.
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 237 
 
 " Look here, girls !" cried Deborah, rapping 
 on the table with a yard-stick ; " this will never 
 do ! Who is robbing the firm now ? I am still 
 forewoman of this room ! Get to work, every 
 one of you ! Nora Lacy, are your eyes better, 
 that you sit in that dark corner ? Move out here 
 into the light. Mary Reed, your shoes are sop- 
 ping wet. Take them off and put them near 
 the heater, and go and rub your feet well in the 
 dressing-room. I believe I will order twenty 
 pairs of slippers for the use of you girls that 
 come here with soaking feet." 
 
 " In that case none of them will be careful, 
 and all will come wet," remarked Mrs. Brand. 
 
 The work went on, but Deborah noticed that 
 the girls were dull, and some trouble seemed 
 brooding among them. " What is the matter 
 with you ? You have something on your minds. 
 Speak out," cried Deborah after a while. 
 
 The girls looked embarrassed. Some opened 
 their lips to speak, changed their minds and 
 were silent the machines hummed on. Mrs. 
 Brand was doing hand-work. She turned to 
 Deborah. " Miss Grosvenor, it 's the striking 
 agents. The shirt-makers are all talking of a 
 strike. They say penitentiary competition puts 
 labor wages too low, and there 's a movement for 
 a strike, and the promoters of the strike are about 
 among our girls. Do n't they know that women
 
 238 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 can't strike ? The men are organized, and have 
 funds ready to help those that hold out ; and the 
 men have tougher hearts, and will hold out in 
 the face of the starving wives and the crying 
 children. Women a' n't made like that ; they 
 can't see the old parents getting lean and faint 
 with hunger, or the babies wailing for bread. 
 They are not the fighting kind mostly, and they 
 take what they can get. They may fret a bit, 
 and cry, when they have time to cry, but they 
 put up with things for the sake of others, as 
 men do n't do. It is no use, Miss Grosvenor, for 
 'em to try striking; they a* n't organized, and 
 they '11 be starved back to even lower wages and 
 harder work." 
 
 "But see here," said Deborah, "are not 
 Rendel Brothers doing the very best that they 
 can for you all, in every way ? Do they not give 
 you comforts that no other firm affords, and 
 wages above the average? Now why incom- 
 mode them with a strike just because the em- 
 ploye's of other firms strike? That is a poor 
 reward of merit in employers. At that rate it 
 will not pay to do well by you." 
 
 " You see they claim that Rendel Brothers 
 could give higher yet, if the strike forced the 
 other shirt-makers to pay better, and pushed out 
 the penitentiary competition." 
 
 "Are not the women in the penitentiary
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 239 
 
 badly enough off, without your trying to de- 
 prive them of labor? Imprisonment with 
 nothing to do would be twice as long and 
 hard as with time occupied. Why begrudge 
 them the chance to learn an honest trade, so 
 that when they come out of prison they can 
 support themselves ? Why wish to take away a 
 clean, easy trade, and drive them only into the 
 roughest and hardest ? Finally, if they are not 
 allowed to make shirts, what can they make? 
 Any trade might be open to the same objection. 
 Come, be generous, be womanly, liberal to lib- 
 eral employers and to sister- women. Many of 
 you say your lot is hard, wages low, toil long, 
 because richer women do not sympathize with 
 you, help you, think for you, and because they 
 want their made goods at the very lowest fig- 
 ures, leaving no room for fair pay for your work. 
 Now if these richer women do bear hard on you, 
 why do you bear hard on the unfortunate women 
 in the penitentiary ?" 
 
 " You see there are some folks whom noth- 
 ing pleases," cried Martha, " because they do n 't 
 want to be pleased, and they are not even 
 pleased with being displeased. You find pres- 
 ent working arrangements very unsatisfactory. 
 So they are, very. But you'd find the strike 
 equally unsatisfactory, and work, when you 
 returned to it, more unsatisfactory still ; while
 
 240 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 as far as all of us in this house are concerned, 
 I do think we owe Rendel Brothers some loy- 
 alty in return for their liberal and sympathetic 
 treatment of us." 
 
 " So we do !" cried one of the girls, " and for 
 my part I am glad to have strike worry off my 
 mind." 
 
 " Now, see here," said Deborah ; " you 
 spread it through the building, and among 
 other working-girls, as many as can get in our 
 biggest room, that beginning with next Mon- 
 day evening we are to have a course of well, 
 something between talks and entertainments 
 here, Monday and Friday evenings. I shall 
 give the first one, perhaps all of them, and they 
 will be about how women in other parts of the 
 world live. I shall begin with China; and I 
 shall have Nell Ball, who is little and dark, and 
 somewhat Chinese-looking, dressed up as a Chi- 
 nese poor woman, and Betty Mills dressed up as 
 a Chinese lady ; and I shall have some Chinese 
 women's work here, and the stage dressed up with 
 fans and parasols, and I will tell you how Chinese 
 women eat, dress, sleep, work, marry, and die. 
 I will show you what they use for knives and 
 forks, and how they tie up their feet, and show 
 you pictures of their homes and their babies. 
 After we do up China, one evening, we will try 
 India, then Siam, Africa, Turkey, Persia, and so
 
 Air. Grosvenor's Daugtiter. Page 241.
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 241 
 
 on. I think, on the whole, when we find out 
 how much worse off other women are, we shall 
 be more contented with our own fate." 
 
 After work hours Deborah went home to 
 tea with Nurse Agnes and Uncle Josiah. " It 
 is well you are come," said Uncle Josiah ; " old 
 Mrs. Jensen is sick ; she is failing fast, and she 
 is anxious to see you. She wants you to sing 
 for her. I meant to go for you this evening." 
 
 Away, then, after tea, went Deborah to Mrs. 
 Jensen's attic. The old dame lay peacefully in 
 her clean, white bed: her room was neat and 
 cheerful, her young attendant waited upon her 
 as a daughter. Deborah sat by her and sang 
 " My ain countree." How eager were the faded 
 old eyes, long lighted by the fires of sin, but 
 now full of love and waiting grace. The with- 
 ered old hand kept time to the words 
 
 " I Ve his gude word of promise that some gladsome day the 
 
 King 
 
 To his ain royal palace his banished hame will bring ; 
 Wi' e'en an' wi' hearts running owre we shall see 
 The King in his beauty in our ain countree. 
 
 " My sins hae been mony, and my sorrows hae been sair, 
 But there they '11 never vex me, nor be remembered mair ; 
 His bluid hath made me white, His han' shall dry my e'e, 
 When He brings me hame at last to my ain countree." 
 
 " Yes, miss," said the old woman, when Deb- 
 orah's song had ended, " it is only Christ that 
 
 Mr. GrOBvenor'e Daughter. 1 6
 
 242 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 could do that for me make me white and clean. 
 Oh, if you knew how wicked I have been !" 
 
 " Thy sins shall be remembered no more for 
 ever," said Deborah. " In Christ there is such 
 complete forgiveness that our sins are not only 
 forgiven, but forgotten. The sin of his people 
 is the one thing that God can forget." 
 
 And so, after a busy day, back went Debo- 
 rah to Leila. " Were you really needed down 
 there ?" asked Leila. 
 
 "So much needed that I hardly dared to 
 come back ; I felt as if I were forsaking God's 
 errands. I stopped a strike, and devised some- 
 thing new for the girls, and comforted a soul in 
 the Border Land. How mean all that sounds 
 as if no one else could or would do what I did ! 
 But the errands were the ones God gave to me, 
 and as he sent no other about them, if I had not 
 done them they might have lain undone." 
 
 "What new thing did you devise?" asked 
 Leila. 
 
 " It came to me like an inspiration. It is 
 something you can help me in. I remembered 
 your Chinese pictures and curiosities ; and the 
 ladies of the Third Church have Chinese cos- 
 tumes to rent, and I knew, Leila, you would 
 provide Chinese lanterns, fans, parasols, nap- 
 kins, and such little things, so that each girl 
 could have a memento to take home, to brighten
 
 YEARNING FOR THE MASSES. 243 
 
 up her own place and keep the talk in her 
 mind." And then Deborah told her about the 
 course of talks on 
 
 " HOW OTHER WOMEN LIVE." 
 
 " How grand you are since you became poor, 
 Deborah !" cried Leila. " Never be rich any 
 more, unless you can stay poor in spirit." 
 
 " Amen to that," said Deborah.
 
 244 M R- GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 
 
 " Which did accomplish their desire, 
 Bore and forebore, and did not tire 
 Like Stephen, an unquenche"d fire." 
 
 ONE of the wonderful traits of humanity is 
 the readiness with which it adjusts itself to the 
 inevitable. An onlooker from, let us say, some 
 distant star, inhabited by happy immortals, 
 might conclude that a race standing always 
 but one remove from sickness, death, and all 
 forms of sorrow would be ever despairingly 
 bewailing its losses. But how seldom do we 
 hear a protest lifted against these our preca- 
 rious conditions ! The bridegroom receives his 
 bride, and is joyful, although at the very altar 
 the words " till death do us part " sound the 
 knell of a long hope ; the mother clasps her 
 babe, and her smile is unshadowed by the 
 thought of the thousands of little coffins that 
 are yearly carried across the thresholds. When 
 the sorrow comes, the shadow falls, the buoy- 
 ancy of the human race rises up to readjust 
 environment, and time itself brings balm to 
 pain.
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 245 
 
 When Leila Stirling learned that her strong 
 helpful friend must leave her, she felt at first as 
 if she could not endure the thought ; but, pres- 
 ently growing accustomed to it, she took the 
 deepest interest in planning for Deborah's work 
 on her return to "the masses." 
 
 When Deborah had found for Leila a com- 
 panion who could read to her, write for her 
 when her own easily tired hands found their 
 task too great, be with her in her waking 
 hours and not very far off when she slept, 
 then she made ready to return to Romaine 
 Court. Leila's maid had been the attendant 
 of years, her housekeeper had been trusted by 
 her mother. " No one could be better situated 
 to administer life from a couch than you are," 
 said Deborah. " Now I will superintend your 
 removal to the country, help you receive your 
 first six guests, stay a week, and then will leave 
 you to manage for yourself. I will come up 
 Saturday evenings and stay until Monday morn- 
 ings, for a few weeks, not only to see you, but 
 to look after your guests. It would be only in 
 human nature that you should find some of 
 them intolerable and encroaching. Very likely 
 there are some of the girls who would prefer 
 hanging over the back gate and talking with 
 your men servants to any amount of amuse- 
 ment you could afford to them in your library
 
 246 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 or garden. In view of such developments of 
 human nature, we will ask the girls for no 
 fixed time, and if one of them chances to be 
 an unendurable guest, we can quietly give her 
 a return ticket. Still I think all will go well, 
 for I shall only suggest to you girls whom I 
 know pretty thoroughly, and who are nice and 
 respectable. Some day you and I may arrange 
 a country or sea-side place, better suited than 
 your house to the rougher sort. The mere fact 
 of poverty does not make one a saint, and I 
 have known plenty of women lately who could 
 turn the pleasantest home you could give them 
 into Pandemonium." 
 
 " Well, we must not expect too much," said 
 Leila ; "all will not go with perfect smoothness ; 
 we must take folks as we find them. Story 
 books are given to painting all prote'ge's as 
 angels, but I do n't see how very many angels 
 could be produced, in such circumstances as you 
 picture to me, in the homes of our poor. It is 
 homes that we want, Deborah. Oh if we could 
 regenerate the homes, we should strike at the 
 root of these troubles ! When you tell me how 
 the children and girls of the poor live, and I 
 contrast it with the way I was brought up and 
 taught and cared for, I feel such a pity that I 
 am nearly heart-broken." 
 
 " If we would remodel the homes, we must
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 247 
 
 produce good mothers to administer them ; and 
 when from childhood women are brought up 
 without education, in crowded rooms which pre- 
 clude decency or cleanliness; when they must 
 be all the time at hard work, and have almost 
 none of the appliances of home comfort ; when 
 mothers must leave their children to the streets, 
 or to the care of other children, for ten hours 
 in the day, how can we expect to create good 
 mothers ? They are wonderfully good for their 
 opportunities." 
 
 " Dear me, I wish we could gather up all the 
 little children !" 
 
 " Then half the world would be a big orphan- 
 age ; and the family, not the orphanage, is the 
 divine ideal." 
 
 Deborah was at last back in Romaine Court, 
 taking up life as it was when she left it. Uncle 
 Josiah watched her closely to see if she had re- 
 grets, longings for the luxury she had left ; but 
 the old selfish Deborah had passed away ; not 
 regrets, but a high purpose to do what good she 
 could, filled Deborah's mind. 
 
 "Who'd ha' thought it!" cried Romaine 
 Court. " Our young lady has been riding in her 
 coach and living like lords, and here she comes 
 back to us just as easy !" 
 
 " When you see and admire that," said Uncle 
 Josiah, " think of the example she is following.
 
 248 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Our Lord left the throne of the universe, the 
 glory of heaven, the sinless company of the 
 angels, and came to live on earth, poor, home- 
 less, weary, persecuted, crucified. Foxes had 
 holes, and the birds of the air had nests, but the 
 Son of Man had not where to lay his head." 
 
 Thus Deborah, as an object lesson, brought 
 home to some hearts the condescension and love 
 of Christ as otherwise they would never have 
 seen it. Happy is that Christian who is able in 
 any way to serve as an object lesson of the work 
 of his blessed Lord ! 
 
 One Saturday evening the happy, courageous 
 face of Deborah appeared at the door of the 
 little boudoir where Leila Stirling lay on her 
 couch. The windows were open to the soft air, 
 and the lace curtains drifted to and fro, while 
 through them glowed the clusters of the roses 
 that climbed over the porch. At the foot of 
 Leila's couch sat one of her guests, a button- 
 hole maker, not making button-holes now, but 
 reading aloud from Jean Ingelow's poems, while 
 Miss Lacy, Leila's companion, played a game of 
 croquet on the lawn with three others of the 
 guests ; and in a grassy enclosure, seen through 
 the trees, the remaining two guests were taking 
 riding lessons, one riding, the other leading, or 
 criticising, a meek old family horse, that at 
 twenty years of age had retired upon a com-
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 249 
 
 petence to close his days in peace in the Stir- 
 ling pastures. It was a scene of good cheer 
 which filled Deborah with a thankful joy. 
 
 How the pale thin face of the little button- 
 hole maker had taken roundness and color! 
 With what strength and courage could she pick 
 up that crutch lying at her feet and go forth 
 into the world again ! 
 
 " Why are there so many more crippled and 
 deformed among these girls than in our class?" 
 Leila had asked Deborah, and Deborah had an- 
 swered, " I always wonder how there are so 
 many healthy, well-made, handsome ones among 
 those whose infancy passes in so much neglect, 
 among so many perils. Our girls are shielded 
 from all dangers, nursed, cared for ; these others 
 must live by day on the curbstones, and crawl 
 up and down stairs, while their mothers toil 
 with scrubbing-brush or at the wash-tub or are 
 absent all day in a rag-picking establishment or 
 umbrella-factory or type-foundry or some other 
 busy place." 
 
 " How horrible that ' rag-picking establish- 
 ment ' sounds !" said Leila ; " what disease and 
 dirt must infest those rags !" 
 
 " How many occupations are there for wo- 
 men ?" she asked presently. 
 
 " Uncle Josiah and I counted three hundred 
 the other night ; but that is not nearly all ; and
 
 250 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 those were occupations of hands. There are 
 occupations requiring head-work, such as sten- 
 ography, typewriting, book-keeping, teaching, 
 and kindred employments." 
 
 On this evening, when Deborah, fresh from 
 the city, found Leila's household so happily 
 engaged, she went and knelt down by the 
 couch and took her friend's hand. " I know 
 you have waited supper for me." 
 
 " Yes, indeed ; and I know you are hungry 
 after your trip." 
 
 " But before supper let me show you a pres- 
 ent I have brought you." 
 
 She stepped into the hall and came back 
 with a large basket, lightly covered. She placed 
 it near Leila's couch, removed the covering, and 
 there lay a little black-haired, red-faced baby, 
 contentedly sucking its thumb ! 
 
 " Why, Deborah !" 
 
 " The baby is three weeks old," said Debo- 
 rah ; " a girl, named Linda, after a good little 
 mother who has died at her post. Her hus- 
 band, this baby's father, worked in a com- 
 pressed-yeast factory, and was killed by an 
 accident in the elevator. The baby's mother 
 worked on children's calico dresses. What did 
 she get? Fifty cents a dozen. She could not 
 make a dozen a day. She had a child two years 
 old ; for it and herself she worked until a week
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 251 
 
 before this little one was born, when the other 
 child died of measles. There was no room for 
 the poor woman in the Maternity Hospital. 
 After this baby was born the mother had no 
 proper care, and began work too soon. She 
 died. There are martyrs in the nineteenth 
 century. Uncle Josiah found her, a few days 
 before she died, and promised her that the 
 baby should be cared for. The parents were 
 decent, good people. Will you have her? It 
 seemed to me just what your home needed, a 
 little child to grow up in it ! You will enjoy 
 seeing her learn to walk, to talk ; you will be 
 happier in sharing her baby plays and admiring 
 her cunning baby tricks. Will you have her, 
 Leila? If not, I can take her back." 
 
 " Put her beside me," said Leila eagerly. 
 " Let me see her little hands and feet. What 
 color are her eyes? I hope her hair will stay 
 curly! Yes, I will keep her; but, Deborah, 
 who will take care of her ? I '11 need a nurse 
 for her. None of us know about babies here." 
 
 " I brought along a nurse, a nice girl who has 
 been trained two years in the Day Nursery. 
 They let me have her, and took a new maid 
 there. Shall I call her in? Come, Mattie." 
 
 Mattie came in, a broad smile on her face. 
 What joy and glory to be nurse-maid here in 
 this beautiful home ! What a lawn, what a gar-
 
 252 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 den! Why, there was a fountain, and also a 
 pond where a pair of swans floated slowly ! 
 Mattie felt that she had reached a great pro- 
 motion. 
 
 " Now," said Deborah to Leila, " you can en- 
 joy yourself thinking what room you will take 
 for the nursery ; and then you can get the cata- 
 logues from the furniture stores and pick out a 
 crib and a baby carriage ; and then you can se- 
 lect a baby's outfit ; and you must subscribe for 
 some magazine that will instruct you in baby 
 nursing, and read it, and make Mattie read it, so 
 that this little maid shall be brought up in the 
 most approved methods. Why, you will feel 
 like the mother of a family at once, Leila !" 
 
 Leila laughed a clear, happy laugh and 
 hugged the baby to her bosom. " I '11 teach her 
 to call me mamma ?" 
 
 " Why not ?" said Deborah ; " the true mother 
 is the one who rears the child with maternal 
 care. But, Leila, don't let her grow up ignorant 
 of the poor faithful little mother that she was 
 named after. I saw her in her coffin, and in my 
 heart I promised her the love of her child." 
 
 When the August guests were dismissed 
 Deborah said, " I have a terrible proposal to 
 make to you, Leila. I want you to take an old 
 lady. That is not such a bad proposition, for 
 she is a nice, neat, amiable old creature, and I
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 253 
 
 know you will enjoy talking with her and hear- 
 ing her experiences. She will be your house 
 company. But I also want you to take a mother 
 and four children ! Four boys, from one to nine 
 years old ! The mother is feeble and a month 
 here may do much for her ; the children have 
 all been through a siege of measles and whoop- 
 ing-cough and are in a wretched state. I do n't 
 ask you to take them into the house here, but 
 there are two rooms above the carriage-house 
 that could be fixed up with beds, a washstand 
 and some clothes-hooks, some chairs and win- 
 dow-curtains, and do admirably for them. Then, 
 as they should be out of doors all the time, I 
 propose that when it is not stormy they should 
 take their meals on some stationary table that 
 your men can fix up under the big elm beside 
 the carriage-house. There is a hydrant in the 
 carriage-house; have a big tub set there for 
 them to take their nightly baths. When it 
 storms they can eat at the table in their room. 
 The mother can set her table and wash her 
 dishes, and can wash in your laundry for her 
 children after your laundry work is done. If 
 your cook will prepare plenty of plain food, the 
 little boys can take it from the kitchen to their 
 mother. They can play in the grove back of the 
 carriage-house, and have a swing and a see-saw 
 there ; and there is the little brook running
 
 254 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 through the grove where they can build dams 
 and fish and sail boats. I have thought it all 
 out. May they come ? You will never hear or 
 see them except as you wish to, on show occa- 
 sions, when they are on their good behavior. I 
 am so anxious for them ! May they come ?" 
 
 " Yes, indeed. Fix it as you. choose. Where 
 did you find them ? What work does the mother 
 do ? Where is the father ?" 
 
 " The father and mother both work in a 
 mattress factory. The father has long been 
 disabled with an injured hand, but is now well. 
 If the family have this summer rest and care 
 the father can get ahead a little again. They 
 are badly off for clothing. I heard of them 
 through a Bible woman whom I know. Uncle 
 Josiah meets most of the city Bible women." 
 
 " Tell them to come as soon as you like, and 
 if the plan works well, we will keep them six 
 weeks. I will give you fifteen dollars to get the 
 children and the mother some clothes. I sup- 
 pose the boys can run barefoot, but should have 
 shirt-waists and trowsers and hats." 
 
 " Just see how wise you are becoming," 
 laughed Deborah. 
 
 " I have nothing to do but to think," said 
 Leila, " and I am reading all the books that I 
 can find on the Labor Problem and the state of 
 the poor. I have waded through the reports of
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 2$ 5 
 
 the 'Commissioner of Labor,' and through es- 
 says, and found no little help in many novels, 
 especially Besant's. If Besant, with his know- 
 ledge and large-heartedness, had only the ele- 
 ment of a strong, warm Christianity in his works, 
 how good and helpful they would be! I am 
 sure, Deborah, that it is Christianity that must 
 solve these questions at the last. The brotherly 
 love, the practical fellowship, set forth by Christ 
 must do the work to-day." 
 
 " And are you not happy, Leila, useful and 
 happy, lying here in what you once thought 
 would be hopeless imprisonment?" 
 
 " Indeed I am. It was a true word you said, 
 Deborah, that where head and heart were free 
 to work, work could be done." 
 
 " And I am your hands and your feet," said 
 Deborah. 
 
 " And how about the evening talks on the 
 women of other lands ? Are they well attended 
 and useful ?" 
 
 " They are so. They make the girls more 
 contented, and they are educative and enlarge 
 their thoughts. I began on China because you 
 could furnish things for that. Then I took 
 Japan, and a gentleman who has a store of Jap- 
 anese goods lent Uncle Josiah a nice lot of 
 things for that talk. Then we found one of the 
 city churches that could provide us help and
 
 2$6 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 information about Siam, and I read copiously 
 from books on that country. And so it has 
 gone on. I seldom could see more than one 
 lecture ahead, but God opened the way. A 
 Turkish dealer and an artist came and gave me 
 the talk on Turkey, and one of the Rendel firm 
 did the Polynesian Islands, and had a splendid 
 show of curiosities. Then I struck another 
 good idea : I have a Swede girl, and a Norwegian, 
 very intelligent, and a young Hollander ; and I 
 got them to tell us about life in their countries. 
 I had them come in their national dress, such as 
 they wore when they came to this country, and I 
 called them up on the little platform with me, 
 and asked them questions, and had the girls 
 in the audience ask them questions ; and soon 
 they began to talk freely, and told us all about 
 marriages and funerals, Christmas holidays, and 
 peculiar customs or phases of domestic life. You 
 have no idea how nice it was, and they told how 
 the women did field work, and were stone-cutters 
 and brick -layers and railroad employees, and 
 how in Holland they often towed the canal boats, 
 and in some countries were even harnessed to a 
 plough ! Our girls thought they lived in a pret- 
 ty good land after all." 
 
 " Dear me ! I wish I could go to one of 
 those talks," sighed Leila. 
 
 " Next winter I shall arrange talks on other
 
 TRUE YOKE-FELLOWS. 
 
 themes. I will have one on Botany, and you 
 can fill the platform with flowers from your 
 conservatory and growing plants, so that the 
 talk can be simple and general, about the food, 
 drink, sleep, growth, uses, and so on of plants. 
 I could get one of the High-school teachers 
 to come and give that. I see clearly that we 
 must arrange for another room. The one we 
 use is too small. I want all to come that will. 
 for the talks help to educate and refine these 
 girls, give them nice subjects to think and talk 
 of, and keep them off the streets. When by all 
 means to be used we can build up a higher class 
 of working-girls, then the wages and the sur- 
 roundings provided for them will be better." 
 
 " But, Deborah, once there was a much 
 brighter class of working-girls. Think of the 
 girls that used to be at Salem and at the other 
 factory towns, ^ey were refined girls, good 
 farmers' girls, they had fair education ; they 
 formed clubs, they edited papers and a mag- 
 azine ; they wrote some beautiful things in prose 
 and poetry. I have read about them. But 
 where are they now ? In the report of the wo- 
 man's penitentiary I find twenty prisoners be- 
 tween the ages of fifteen and twenty-four, in 
 for terms of not less than two years, for habitual 
 drunkenness and violent conduct all factory 
 girls. Once they were not so." 
 
 Mr. Groavenor's Daughter. \*]
 
 258 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 "A great number of very ignorant, low girls 
 from foreign countries came in, emphatically 
 hands, not heads and hearts also, and were will- 
 ing to take low wages, because they were willing 
 to live in a crowded, beggarly way, half housed, 
 half clad, poorly fed. The manufacturers en- 
 gaged them because of the cheapness of such 
 labor, and this element drove out the self-respect- 
 ing, well-respected factory girl who had been a 
 credit to her employer and elevated her work. 
 If the employers had required a standard of 
 morality, propriety in dress, manners, and lan- 
 guage, and been willing to allow the women to 
 be womanly, they might have saved crime and 
 criminals to the State."
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 
 
 " So heavenly toned that in that hour 
 From out my sullen heart a power 
 Broke, like the rainbow from the shower." 
 
 DEBORAH and Uncle Josiah were sitting on 
 the roof one August evening. In the waning 
 light Deborah read these words to her uncle 
 from a book that lay in her lap : " Everywhere 
 the woman gets the worst of it. She is the 
 hardest worked and has to do the meanest kinds 
 of work ; she is the worst paid ; she is always 
 bullied, scolded, threatened, or nagged and 
 sworn at ; she has the worst food ; she has the 
 lion's share of the trouble and the lamb's share 
 of the pleasure ; she has no holidays, she has the 
 fewest amusements. Even in those circles where 
 women do not work and are never kicked, they 
 have the worst of it. Beautiful things have been 
 written about womanhood, damsels, and gracious 
 ladies. Girls do indeed enjoy a brief reign, 
 while they are wooed and not yet won. After 
 that men take everything for themselves that 
 is worth having, save only in those well-ap- 
 pointed and desirable establishments where
 
 260 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 there is enough to go round for man and wife 
 too." 
 
 Deborah closed the book ; it was too dark to 
 read more. 
 
 "That is largely true," said Uncle Josiah. 
 " Our fallen race is by nature tyrannical and tends 
 to dominate and abuse the weak. Even in civil- 
 ized lands there are barbarous parents. But all 
 that is not true where Christianity rules the 
 hearts and lives of men. In the Christian home 
 the mother, wife, sister, daughter are sacred. 
 Theirs is the best and not the worst that is to 
 be had." 
 
 " I have seen Christian men, professors of 
 religion, and I think really good men, who were 
 selfish, nagging, domineering in their homes, 
 measuring all the world by a capital 7; and I is 
 a very poor yardstick," said Deborah. 
 
 " No doubt you have seen such cases ; all are 
 not Christians that bear the name, and religion 
 does not assure perfection here below. I have 
 heard of grace being grafted on a crab-tree, 
 where some of the original crab branches did 
 not seem to have been lopped off. No doubt 
 also you have seen Christian women who were 
 pettish, selfish, and idle. I wish we were all 
 nobler examples of Christianity. And at the 
 end of all it is in the Christian religion that 
 woman is to find her protection, her refuge,
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 261 
 
 her safety for this world as well as the next. 
 That is the only religion which does not exalt 
 the strong as over the weak, which does not 
 deify fighting qualities." 
 
 "This that I have read to you, uncle, was 
 written by a man, and not a Christian man, yet 
 a strong defender of women." 
 
 " I hope that his own daily practice corre- 
 sponds with his professions. In the meantime, 
 dear Deborah, I have always told you that while 
 Christian men will do much to defend women, 
 Christian women can do more, and will when 
 they are awakened to the needs and know the 
 sufferings of the wives, mothers, and daughters 
 of the poor." 
 
 " Last Sunday afternoon I went with Mrs. 
 Bent to a hospital to ask after a cousin of 
 hers, a laundress, mother of eight children, 
 who lies nt the point of death because her hus- 
 band in a fit of anger broke her skull with a flat- 
 iron. He is in prison ; the eight children are 
 in the city Homes for Destitute children." 
 
 " Drunkenness and irreligion, irreligion and 
 drunkenness !" cried Uncle Josiah, " these are 
 their fruits to woman because she has little 
 muscular and no political strength. The law 
 protects women in some measure, but it cannot 
 prevent such wrongs as those which are the re- 
 sult of brutal ignorance and vice.
 
 262 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " That the oppressed woman, the suffering 
 woman, is still waiting for her sister woman to 
 be her helper, is in accordance with all the ad- 
 ministration of God's providence. When Christ 
 came to save men, he took not on himself the 
 nature of angels, but of those whom he came to 
 save : he became brother to our dust. So the 
 ministry of reconciliation is not committed to 
 angels, but to men. And when Christian wo- 
 men shall wake up to their great trust, then right 
 shall reign, and the lot of the working women 
 shall not only be alleviated, but made honorable 
 and comfortable. When women cease to think 
 first of themselves, of buying in the cheapest 
 markets and confining their interests and ac- 
 quaintanceships strictly to their own class, then 
 we shall see the dawn of better days : when all 
 young girls shall be respected, and their health, 
 happiness, and honor regarded, when all wives 
 and mothers shall find it possible to care first for 
 their own homes, when all children shall be 
 properly nourished, protected, educated, loved ; 
 all these possibilities are in the hands of Chris- 
 tian womanhood." 
 
 " I wish those good days would hurry up and 
 come," said Deborah, " for just now things seem 
 worse than ever. The street corners are crowd- 
 ed with idle men on strike, the benches in the 
 squares and parks are full of them, the docks
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 263 
 
 are lined with them ; and meanwhile the women 
 who cannot strike must work harder than ever 
 to get rent-money and bread. A poor girl, far 
 gone in consumption, who left work on a ma- 
 chine in my room a month ago, came back yes- 
 terday asking for employment. I told her she 
 was not fit for work. 
 
 " ' There is no food,' she said ; ' father and 
 brother are on a strike.' 
 
 " I asked Mr. Ames to get her into a Con- 
 sumptives' Home, and I hope he will, for she is 
 unfit to work ; and besides, I think it terribly 
 dangerous and unhealthy for a girl in consump- 
 tion to be among the other girls ; she is cough- 
 ing constantly, and the others in the hard work, 
 fatigue, and confined air of the work-room are 
 just in the condition to contract disease." 
 
 " It is hard, indeed it is hard," said Uncle 
 Josiah. " But how many Christian women are 
 there in this country? Every one of them is 
 in God's intention his message-bearer to other 
 women. She has primarily an evangel, a phys- 
 ical and temporal evangel, to carry to her work- 
 ing sisters. True, very many Christian women 
 are abundantly occupied, but it is safe to say 
 that over one-half of them are not fully occu- 
 pied, and from a fourth to a third of them are 
 doing nothing at all for God or for humanity. 
 They stroll along life's flowery ways doing noth-
 
 264 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ing but amuse themselves, forgetting that in 
 God's great plan no one walks with aimless feet. 
 I say from one-fourth to one-third are so idle, in 
 the face of the fact that such a large majority of 
 women are working women, because, if you will 
 remember, the ranks of Christian women, of 
 women in evangelical churches, are not largely 
 recruited from the working women, but from 
 the richer women who have leisure. One of the 
 saddest features in the case of the working 
 women is that many of them are so overworked 
 and underfed and ill clad that they are out of 
 the reach of the influence of the churches." 
 
 From the street rose the sound of shrill 
 voices of neighbor women in a high quarrel ; 
 there were vigorous threats of calling a police- 
 man, of making arrests, of "going to law." 
 Then the strong, even tones of Nurse Jamieson 
 were heard : " Come awa, women. Why wull 
 ye flite ilk ither that a way ? Are ye no sailing 
 a' in the same boat? Whaur wull ye fin' friends 
 if no in each ither ? Tak' a cup o' tea an' agree ; 
 the law's costly. Why canna ye behave like 
 ladies? Ladies do not fight." 
 
 " Ladies ! Bonny ladies we be, down here, 
 born in Romaine Court !" 
 
 " Ye can cultivate a* the guid behavior that 
 ye will, here or there. The trouble a' begins in 
 yer threeping at ilk ither. A guid word is as
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 265 
 
 soon said as an ill ane ; why do ye no mind 
 that?" 
 
 "But, Mistress Jamieson, Nora Neal is always 
 quarrelling and growling like a dog with a sore 
 head." 
 
 " Well, even a dog winna growl if you quiet 
 him wi' a bone. Gie her guid words, an' she 
 will no quarrel wi' them. Puir body, wi' sic a 
 bad hand, an' three sma' children, and her man 
 cross an' on a strike, hasna she enouch to mak' 
 her cross ?" 
 
 At this enumeration of her woes, Nora Neal 
 began a loud weeping. " My hand ! Look 
 at my hand," she sobbed; "it has not been 
 dressed for two days, and the salve costs so 
 much money I can buy no more, now my man 
 is out of work." As for hard times, she had 
 taken a cup of tea early in the morning, and not 
 a bite since ; there had only been bread, and the 
 children ate that, and it was not half enough, and 
 hunger made them quarrelsome ! 
 
 First, after this tale of woe, fell profound 
 silence for a moment in Romaine Court. Then 
 Nurse Agnes broke forth : " And do I call my- 
 sel' a Christian woman, and not go to do up 
 your hand daily ? I will fetch linen and warm 
 water and castile soap, and dress it this mo- 
 ment ! An' as for the childer, puir lambs, I '11 
 gie them a guid wash, and then a guid supper,
 
 266 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and pit them to bed, so they will sleep like 
 tops." 
 
 But now the woman with whom Nora had 
 been quarrelling- had thrown her arms about 
 her and was trying to comfort her. " Not a 
 bite to-day ? Dear heart ! Well, my man is in 
 good work and good wages, and I '11 see that you 
 do n't go without dinner again. Wait a bit ; I 
 have as good a plate of potatoes and bacon and 
 cabbage, set by cold, as ever you tasted, and 
 you '11 eat it as soon as Mistress Jamieson dresses 
 your hand. Take heart ; the strike will be over 
 before long!" 
 
 " And what for do the men strike, when all 
 the burden of it lies on the women and chil- 
 dren ? Was n't the agent scolding her about the 
 rent this very day, and she not able to do a 
 stroke of washing !" cried a neighbor. 
 
 " Is it the rent that 's wanted ?" said a fat 
 Irish woman. " I have a nickel will help on 
 towards it, and some of the rest of ye may have 
 another. ' Many a little makes a muckle ;' is it 
 not so, Mistress Jamieson ?" 
 
 Some one went around among the denizens 
 of Romaine Court and took up a collection from 
 them, the affair being easy, as all the inhabi- 
 tants sat on the doorsteps and curbstones until 
 eleven o'clock at night, when possibly it might 
 be cool enough to go in-doors and sleep.
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 267 
 
 Poor little babies of Romaine Court, more 
 luckless infancy still of slums and alleys, to 
 which Romaine Court was respectable gentil- 
 ity! The babies of happier homes slept in 
 cool, shaded rooms, in cribs or cradles, tenderly 
 watched, carefully put to bed early : these ba- 
 bies of the poor lay in their day-clothes on the 
 bare floors, on the walks, on the knees of moth- 
 ers or sisters, hot, exhausted, panting, whining, 
 until almost midnight. Poor little girl children 
 of these quarters ! playing tag or hide-and-seek, 
 in and out of the halls and cellars, and around 
 into the streets, under the horses' feet, about the 
 doors of saloons, hearing ribaldry and profanity, 
 seeing vice in every form, well acquainted with 
 brawls, arrests, ejections what shall be done 
 for the girl-children of the Lazarus Quarter? 
 and for the boys whose only playground is the 
 street, the rabble their masters, the grog-shop 
 and the gambling den and the low theatre their 
 paradise ? What chance for them to grow up in 
 honesty, cleanliness, industry, and make in the 
 future good fathers and husbands ? What shall 
 be done for the Lazarus Quarter ? 
 
 Uncle Josiah thought that he had found the 
 remedy the Christ-spirit in the hearts of hu- 
 manity, producing brotherly kindness, courage, 
 sympathy, fair dealing none selfishly seeking 
 to rise to power and place upon the fallen bodies
 
 268 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 of his brethren ; none demanding wealth pur- 
 chased by a fellow's blood and tears. Oh, abi- 
 ding spirit of holy charity, panacea for human 
 troubles ! " Charity suffereth long and is kind ; 
 charity envieth not ; charity vaunteth not itself, 
 is not puffed up, doth not behave itself un- 
 seemly, seeketh not her own, is not easily pro- 
 voked, thinketh no evil ; rejoiceth not in ini- 
 quity, but rejoiceth in the truth ; beareth all 
 things, hopeth all things, endureth all things ; 
 charity never faileth." 
 
 After the long strike of the men, and the 
 additional care and privation and toil of the 
 women, with increased neglect of the children 
 and less proper nourishment, came an autumn 
 of great mortality. " So much sickness !" people 
 said. The streets were full of funerals ; the 
 Board of Health became uneasy and made 
 alarming reports; the death-rate was unusual, 
 and the mortuary paragraphs in the papers be- 
 gan to encroach largely on the columns. The 
 deaths in the tenement houses were not often 
 announced in the papers, but when fevers and 
 contagious diseases invade the homes of the 
 poor they make flights thence, and brood with 
 baleful wings over the home of Dives. Sickness 
 and death are essentially democratic in their na- 
 ture, and very insistent in proclaiming the doc- 
 trine of the common brotherhood of humanity.
 
 HELP THOSE WOMEN. 269 
 
 Nurse Jamieson began to report sickness in 
 this home and that, and to spend most of her 
 time in going from one invalid to another. Old 
 Mrs. Jensen died first ; she had far passed the 
 allotted period of life and found it trouble and 
 sorrow. But presently cholera infantum reaped 
 a large harvest among the children ; and then 
 fevers fell upon the men and the overtaxed 
 women ; and over Romaine Court and its envi- 
 ronments blew a cold wind from the realms of 
 death. 
 
 What was to be done with the widows, with 
 the orphans, with the broken-down constitu- 
 tions, with the invalids but half restored, drag- 
 ging about their daily tasks? Deborah had 
 found how hard a matter living and toiling 
 were in these courts and alleys ; now she found 
 how doubly hard being sick and dying were. 
 She had no time now to visit Leila, but she sent 
 her some convalescents to help towards health ; 
 she wrote her daily notes and laid before her 
 many pitiful cases of need, and Leila from her 
 couch " reached forth the helping of a hand." 
 
 Hard indeed was life that autumn for the 
 poor ; but across its gloom the light of Christian 
 help, of Christian charity, " broke like the rain- 
 bow from the shower."
 
 270 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 
 
 " I say the acknowledgment of God in Christ, 
 
 Accepted by thy reason, solves for thee 
 All questions of the earth and out of it, 
 And has so far advanced thee to be wise." 
 
 " DEBORAH ! Deborah Grosvenor ! It surely 
 is Deborah !" 
 
 The speaker was a tall girl of twenty-five, 
 with a fine intellectual face. The place was 
 the railway train, for Deborah was going on 
 Saturday evening to stay until Monday with 
 Leila. 
 
 Now that the sickness in the neighborhood 
 was increasing, Uncle Josiah sent Deborah out 
 of the city each week in this way. " I promised 
 your father solemnly that I would have instant 
 care of your health," he said. 
 
 "My health," responded Deborah, "is per- 
 fect." 
 
 " Very good : let us keep it so." 
 
 "Jacqueline Day, are you back after five 
 years !" cried Deborah, " and we have met on 
 this train !" 
 
 " I was sure it was you," said Jacqueline. " I
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 2/1 
 
 could not mistake the poise of the head, your 
 beautiful hair, and the lines of your features. But 
 you have changed, Deborah, changed wonder- 
 fully. What is it ?" Jacqueline looked at her 
 critically. " Your face is a trifle thinner, and you 
 have -the least bit less color, but it is something 
 else that makes the change. Is it the dress ? 
 Once you would only wear dresses from Worth's 
 and very splendid jewelry. Now is it a new 
 notion? You are severely plain in this gray 
 gown, with a cream crpe tie and no ornaments. 
 I believe I like the new fad better than the 
 old." 
 
 Jacqueline herself wore a tailor-made suit, of 
 a soft tan material, and a certain choice sim- 
 plicity marked her whole appearance. 
 
 " As for the suits from Worth," said Deborah 
 gayly, " as I have lost all my money I cannot 
 afford them ; and the jewels would not be prop- 
 er to my station ; I am earning my living in a 
 shirt factory." 
 
 "Why, you dear girl! I had heard some- 
 thing, two or three years ago, about your loss of 
 property ; it did not seem possible." 
 
 " It was quite possible, and you have no idea 
 how easily and promptly I came down to the 
 ranks of working women, or up to them ; some- 
 times I think it was a fall up." 
 
 " You poor dear !"
 
 272 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Do n't pity me, I beg of you. I never was 
 as happy, as reasonable and respectable, before." 
 
 "Happy yes, that is it. There lies the 
 change, the look of bored "discontent has gone 
 from your mouth and out of your eyes. There 
 is not that supercilious air that once marked Deb- 
 orah Grosvenor. You look a happier woman." 
 
 " So I am." 
 
 " And where do you live ? out on this line of 
 road ?" 
 
 " No, in the city, in Romaine Court. I am 
 going to stay until Monday with Leila Stirling. 
 Have you heard of Leila's railroad accident?" 
 And Deborah told Leila's story. " But," she 
 added as she saw Jacqueline's face full of com- 
 miseration, " don't pity Leila either. She never 
 was so happy and so useful in her life. She 
 has found her place in the world, a place where 
 she was needed, and where she would be great 
 ly missed if she went out of it." 
 
 And then, as the train swept on, Deborah 
 told of the work Leila had found to do ; how 
 money, time, interests were all consecrated to 
 God in the service of humanity. 
 
 " There, the train is whistling for my sta- 
 tion," she said. 
 
 " I cannot leave you," cried Jacqueline. " I 
 must see you longer and I must see Leila. 
 These things in which you are so interested
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 2/3 
 
 have for two years occupied me. In London I 
 have been, not playing at charity, but studying 
 the needs of my neighbor and the way of help. 
 I shall go with you to Leila ; she will welcome 
 me, I am sure." 
 
 "Joyfully," said Deborah, and they left the 
 train together. 
 
 " Does company tire you, Leila ? Do you 
 keep invalid hours ?" asked Jacqueline after tea, 
 when Mattie had passed the pretty baby, Linda, 
 around for a good-night kiss and taken her 
 away, and Deborah had been to see the family 
 lodged in the carriage-house, and Jacqueline had 
 chatted for half an hour on the piazza, in the 
 purple twilight, with three or four shop-girls, 
 Leila's last vacation guests, who had now gone 
 off in a room by themselves to play Parchesi. 
 " Can we talk, Leila ?" 
 
 " The more the better. I am not nervous. 
 I am feeling well and strong, only that I am 
 paralyzed from my waist down. I can talk half 
 the night, and make up for it by sleeping late 
 to-morrow. I cannot get to church ; that is one 
 of my deprivations." 
 
 " This is a splendid work you are doing, 
 Leila that baby adopted, this poor woman and 
 her boys growing so fat and happy in your care, 
 these girls given new views and a new lease of 
 life ! It must cost you a mint of money." 
 
 Mr. Grosveuor'B Daughter. 1 8
 
 274 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Let me tell you, Jacqueline ; I figured it up 
 the other day. I am becoming an expert account- 
 ant. My company does not cost me as much 
 as the company cost when we entertained our 
 society friends out here. My table and whole 
 style of living are simpler, as more suited to my 
 guests. They do not want French cookery and 
 confections, but good meat, fruit, milk, and 
 vegetables. So far the money which Deborah 
 has laid out for me in charitable work, as 
 some call it justice work I call it, stewardship 
 work is not so much as I used to spend, or as 
 my society friends spend, during the year in the 
 usual routine entertainments that are thought 
 necessary to one's place in society. A lawn 
 or archery party, a state picnic, a drawing-room 
 concert, two state dinners, and a ball, in a year 
 cost nearly double what I have spent on Debo- 
 rah's widows and orphans, lectures and day 
 nurseries. But you see, Jacqueline, our work, 
 Deborah's and mine, is only just opening. We 
 have been working along the edges of affairs. 
 We do not want to make mistakes ; we want to 
 know what is needed, and the best way to meet 
 the need. We do n't want to pauperize people, 
 but to treat our sister- women as we would like 
 to be treated, helping them up. We don't think 
 that we can bring in the Golden Age, but we 
 want to make a beginning. We have hardly yet
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 2/5 
 
 found out what the wrong is which we should 
 redress. Have you looked into such matters ? Is 
 it the wages system ? Is it the neglect of the 
 children ? Some say one thing, some another." 
 
 " I read an article lately," said Jacqueline, 
 " which contended that all wage-labor was not 
 free labor, but a relic of slave labor. It claimed 
 that to the wage system inevitably belong strife, 
 tyranny, the grinding down of the poor by the 
 rich, the hating and chafing of the rich by the 
 poor." 
 
 " But if one cannot take nor offer wages for 
 work, how shall one have any work done ?" 
 
 " The argument was that the wage system in- 
 volved competition, and competition was specu- 
 lative contention, trying to place goods on the 
 market in the largest quantities, at the lowest 
 price, and to succeed in this the wages must be 
 reduced to a minimum; and with starvation 
 wages the working classes are brutalized. Over 
 against this age of competition, based on the 
 wage system, the writer proposed to set the age 
 of humanity, based on cooperation." 
 
 " I do n't see how cooperation can be made 
 to work all along the line," said Leila. " If I 
 have a factory or a store or a farm, I can see 
 how cooperation, an equitable division of profits 
 called by ownership investment and value of 
 labor done, might be arranged. But take the
 
 276 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 woman who hires some other woman to come 
 in and do her washing, or the owner of a small 
 lawn and garden who hires a workman to come 
 and trim up his trees, sod bare places, and set 
 out shrubs. These are merely for ornament ; 
 they produce nothing to the employer but the 
 pleasure of a well-kept place. The man who 
 does the work wants his day's wages paid at once 
 for doing it, and if the wages are fair, sufficient 
 for him to live according to his needs, it seems 
 to me that justice is not contravened in giving 
 them. It is evident that all people, by the 
 very difference in taste, do not need the same 
 amount of money to live on. Take Mrs. Jordan 
 here in my carriage-house ; suppose she and I 
 went together to a store to buy a floor-covering 
 for rooms of equal size, our living rooms. A 
 Persian rug, thick, subdued, rich, would take my 
 fancy and be what I wanted and what would 
 give me pleasure to use. Mrs. Jordan would 
 truly consider the rug 'an ugly thing,' and a 
 flowing red ingrain, at seventy-five cents or a 
 dollar a yard, would be just her idea of a floor- 
 covering which would be to her an hourly satis- 
 faction. Her want would be met with thirty 
 dollars, mine with three hundred, for substan- 
 tially the same purpose. I know that this is 
 so, for she was allowed to come and see the 
 house, and she told the housekeeper that she
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 
 
 wondered such a rich lady as Miss Stirling did 
 not have a nice carpet in the drawing-room, and 
 added that she supposed I gave away so much 
 that I could not afford a nicer one. That de- 
 spised floor-covering had cost nearly a thousand 
 dollars." 
 
 The girls laughed. 
 
 " I have found in my work," said Jacqueline, 
 " that many things are and must remain unset- 
 tled, and that a great many people waste time 
 and strength in demanding the impossible and 
 asking why, why, why ? why these differences ? 
 why do the people submit ? when they had 
 much better give themselves to helping those 
 nearest at hand. It is better to do something 
 than nothing. You are right about the women 
 and the children being the real sufferers. The 
 hope of the women of the future is in the 
 children of to-day ; and if you want to get 
 women above ' the scrub level ' the children 
 must go to school. You have no idea how the 
 children, lifted to a higher grade, can regener- 
 ate their homes : they take home new ideas, 
 new hopes, new demands the parents receive 
 the new cleanliness and order and information 
 from the child, as a prophecy. First the Day 
 Nursery, then the Kindergarten, then the Public 
 School have the Kindergarten and the Pub- 
 lic School compulsory, the Day Nursery attrac-
 
 278 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tive as possible, being fully equipped and 
 open in all the quarters ; after the Public School 
 the Industrial School, compulsory for all unoc- 
 cupied children. Then, with no idle, homeless, 
 uncared-for children about the streets, but with 
 all children growing up in decency and order, 
 we shall have orderly wives and sober, industri- 
 ous husbands the rule of the future, crimes and 
 criminals brought to their minimum." 
 
 " Always provided you shut the grog-shops," 
 said Leila. " And I think that the State, as the 
 greater parent, should see to it that all children 
 get their rights of education and shelter." 
 > "And when out of such a well-cared-for 
 generation we get the house-mothers and the 
 fathers of the future, with homes of decency, 
 then will come the Golden Age !" said Deborah. 
 
 " We cannot make the State do its part," said 
 Leila, " and the homes and the parents are very 
 different from our idea ; and if they were all as 
 we wished in point of morals and manners, the 
 best ordered homes and the most respectable 
 people need bread and meat, shoes and hats, 
 and various other things which the present sys- 
 tem of low wages for women does not afford." 
 
 " If the men were all sober and industrious, 
 if so many men were not drunkards, wasteful 
 and abusive, spending money on drink and in 
 gambling, and time on the streets or in prison,
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 
 
 very many women, who now are compelled to 
 work for wages, could live at home and work 
 only for the comfort of their households; and 
 with such a great number removed from the 
 competition of the labor market, work would be 
 more plentiful and better paid for the others." 
 
 " What the Moravian missionaries have done 
 for heathen abroad, we must do for heathen at 
 home," said Leila. 
 
 " We want a Settlement in every one of the 
 poor wards in every city," cried Jacqueline. " Do 
 you know what a Settlement is ?" 
 
 "No, I don't," said Deborah. " I know only 
 the little that I have seen." 
 
 " A Settlement in a neighborhood is a house, 
 cleaned, well plumbed, purified to be what land- 
 lords should be compelled to make all houses 
 sanitary places. It is furnished with decency 
 and taste. It has curtains, rugs, tables, chairs, a 
 few books, pictures, house-plants such simple 
 comfortable things as a very small income well 
 administered can attain unto, and yet pure, re- 
 fined, tending to elevate the taste and ennoble 
 the life. In that house live all the time a few 
 educated women, women of refined Christian 
 characters and large sympathies. Some go, 
 others come ; the number is always complete, 
 for when one returns for a time to her former 
 home and friends, some one takes her place.
 
 280 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 These women become the friends, sympathizers, 
 helpers, defenders, teachers, examples to all who 
 are near their Settlement." 
 
 There was a ring at the front door, and as 
 Leila heard the man servant passing through 
 the hall to answer the bell, 
 
 " Who can it be ?" she cried, " some one from 
 the down train ?" 
 
 " Mr. Grosvenor," announced the butler, 
 throwing open the library door. 
 
 " Uncle Josiah !" exclaimed Deborah, hasten- 
 ing to meet him. " Uncle Josiah," chimed Leila, 
 holding out her hand from her couch, for she 
 too, desolate of kindred, called the good old man 
 uncle. 
 
 " Yes, yes, girls," laughed Uncle Josiah, " let 
 me put down my impedimenta. There now," 
 and he gave Deborah a kiss, and stroked Leila's 
 bright hair as he bent to take her hand. 
 
 "And here is Jacqueline," said Deborah ; " do 
 you remember Jacqueline ? She used to be one 
 of my playmates. Call him uncle too, Jacque- 
 line ; he is a universal uncle." 
 
 Jacqueline laughed as she gave the old man 
 her hand. "What have you brought us, 'un- 
 cle ' ? I am interested in an uncle who appears 
 unexpectedly in the night and sets such queer 
 impedimenta on the hearth-rug." 
 
 Deborah meanwhile had eone down on her
 
 THE MYSTERY OF IT. 28 1 
 
 knees to the impedimenta, and loosening a hood 
 and long cloak, revealed a very rosy, chubby, 
 sleepy-looking infant, who smiled cordially into 
 her eyes. " Why, uncle, uncle ! this is never 
 that poor forlorn little Theodora that I picked 
 up from the sidewalk and dressed in a towel and 
 two pocket handkerchiefs !" she exclaimed. 
 
 " She is that very identical infant," said Un- 
 cle Josiah, taking a big easy-chair and com- 
 placently regarding Jacqueline and Deborah 
 seated on the rug beside the little one. " Let 
 Leila have a good look at her. Can your baby 
 come up to her, Leila ? What do you think of 
 Mrs. Willis as a foster-mother now, niece ?" 
 
 " She must be perfect," cried Deborah. 
 " Will she take some more waifs into her home 
 and heart ? If she will I can hunt them up for 
 her. Why, ' Nobody's baby,' what a sweet little 
 creature you are ! Uncle, this reminds me of 
 some of Dr. Barnardo's stories of treasure-trove 
 of human souls, found in gutters." 
 
 " You see, Leila," said Uncle Josiah, " I have 
 been out to my old home for a few days on busi- 
 ness, and I concluded to bring this child back 
 for Deborah to see. It will encourage her in 
 work to get such results. Wednesday I will 
 take her back to her home, as I must go there 
 again. Meantime I came to spend Sunday here 
 with you girls."
 
 282 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " I cannot tell you how welcome you are," 
 said Leila, ringing for a tray of refreshments 
 for Uncle Josiah, and for her young nurse to 
 take Theodora to bed. " We were deep in talk 
 of Settlements and Working Women's Bureaus, 
 and all kinds of organizations. Jacqueline has 
 been abroad studying up philanthropic work. 
 When Deborah and I went abroad we never 
 thought of such things. Oh, Deborah, what 
 idlers we were !" 
 
 " ' Forgetting the things that are behind 
 and pressing forward to those that are before.' 
 'Your sins and iniquities will I remember no 
 more,' " said Uncle Josiah kindly.
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 283 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 
 
 " A full, rich nature, free to trust, 
 Truthful, and almost sternly just, 
 Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act 
 And make her generous thought a fact, 
 Keeping with many a light disguise 
 The secret of self-sacrifice." 
 
 AGAIN it was Saturday evening 1 , and the 
 three girls, Leila, Jacqueline, and Deborah, were 
 sitting in Leila's library. 
 
 " I want," said Jacqueline, " to begin my work 
 at once. My mother and I have talked it all 
 over. We have fifty thousand dollars between 
 us, and we both prefer to live plainly and try to 
 do some good in the world. We mean to take a 
 house with a lawn about it, in the suburbs, but 
 on the street-car line. We shall keep a horse 
 and surrey, and have a woman for the house- 
 work and a man for the stable and garden. We 
 mean to take a girl of twelve, and have her 
 trained in light work and table waiting, and 
 when she is seventeen, and able to get good 
 wages, we shall find for her a nice place, and 
 take another girl to train up. That will be one 
 of our little ways of doing good. Another of
 
 284 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 our ways will be to buy no ready-made gar- 
 ments, but have our sewing done at our home, 
 at good wages, by some city seamstress, who 
 will find a two or three weeks' sojourn at our 
 house, several times a year, a real benefit to her. 
 But our great work, mother's and mine, will be 
 the Settlement. We visited some of the Set- 
 tlements in London, and resolved to devote our- 
 selves to founding one." 
 
 "How happy you are," said Deborah wist- 
 fully, " to have money to use, and a heart to use 
 it well, and a mother to be your co-worker !" 
 
 " How happy you are," said Leila, " to be well 
 and strong and able to go about and do this 
 work, and know for whom you are toiling !" 
 
 "God has his plan for every one!" cried 
 Jacqueline. " He sends into the world no aim- 
 less feet, and in the end you would not renounce 
 your task for mine, I am sure. But as to our 
 Settlement. There must be a good gymnasium ; 
 it shall be large and used as a lecture-room and 
 concert-room. We shall have also a reading- 
 room and a laundry and three rooms for conva- 
 lescents, just out of hospital, or for girls on the 
 verge of breaking down, but whom rest will re- 
 store. Mother and I will devote a certain amount 
 of income each year to the support of our Settle- 
 ment, and we shall try and interest others so 
 that the work can be maintained. Before I lease
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 285 
 
 the house I am to go about and secure my right 
 workers, the furnishing and the two thousand 
 dollars that will be the least income with which, 
 added to the one thousand from mother and my- 
 self, we can begin work. The expenses of fur- 
 nishing and renovating will come out of some 
 money which we have for three years been lay- 
 ing aside for this purpose." 
 
 " And the place !" cried Deborah ; " oh, Jacque- 
 line, will you not choose my district?" 
 
 " Yes," said Jacqueline, " as well one ward as 
 another, and the work seems already begun near 
 you. We can begin our Settlement, and some 
 day, who knows ? you can open your Working 
 Women's Bureau." 
 
 "And I," cried Leila, "can now do my part. 
 Hear my plan, and if it is carried out, with Bu- 
 reau, Settlement, and ' my work' there will be 
 one ward well equipped for moving towards the 
 Golden Age of humanity." 
 
 " But what is your work, Leila ? What do 
 you mean to do ?" 
 
 . " Tell me, Deborah, is that Day Nursery from 
 which Mattie came in your ward ?" 
 
 " No. It is one street within the limit of the 
 next ward." 
 
 " Well, then, my plan is to have a Day Nur- 
 sery in each ward where working women enough 
 live to have candidates for the Nursery to the
 
 286 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 extent of five babies. To begin with, I will es- 
 tablish one in your ward. From five to thirty 
 babies should be the capacity for each Nursery. 
 Where the mother gets less than five dollars a 
 week wages or has over two children, then her 
 babies should be free, for less than five dollars 
 cannot provide food, rent, and clothes for mother 
 and children. Those who are able to pay, on 
 my scale, shall be charged a nickel a day. Now 
 my Nursery is to have connected with it a Bible 
 nurse, with a sort of dispensary, where lint and 
 bandages, poultices and plasters, simple home 
 remedies, and suitable food for the sick, as tea, 
 toast, beef-tea, soup, porridge, rice, fruit, jelly, 
 and crackers, can be given out to needy cases, 
 at the order of the Bible nurse. My Bible nurse 
 is to be a Christian woman of experience, large 
 heart and sound head, who shall have her room 
 next the dispensary in the Nursery, shall go 
 when sent for, night or day, and shall daily 
 make her rounds of the ward, visiting the sick, 
 dressing burns or wounds, making the invalids' 
 beds, bathing them, doing their hair, helping in 
 whatever is needed and reporting all need be- 
 yond her help. My ideal is the Bible nurse of 
 the London Bible and Domestic Female Mis- 
 sion, started by Mrs. Ranyard in Dudley Street, 
 St. Giles, London, in 1857. It is one of the no- 
 blest, most useful and blessed charities of the
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 287 
 
 age, while one of the most unostentatious and 
 least known. I want one of those true, good, 
 helpful nurses in every ward, helping and heal- 
 ing, but especially teaching, showing the women 
 how to nurse the sick, how to take care of young 
 babes, how to have sanitary arrangements and 
 cleanliness and decency even in poor homes. I 
 want my nurse, or some one even better fitted 
 to do it, to give a weekly lecture on health, on 
 proper food, on beds and bedding, on the airing 
 of clothes and taking care of dish-cloths and 
 cooking utensils, and on conduct in emergencies. 
 Why should the rich or well-to-do, who have so 
 many advantages, be the ones to get all the lec- 
 tures on baby tending, nursing, food stuffs, and 
 emergencies ?" 
 
 " That is well thought of," said Jacqueline, 
 " and I am sure you can arrange your home for 
 babies and your Bible nurse and find them great 
 blessings. When I talk of all these plans my 
 heart enlarges and grows hopeful, and I see in 
 every ward the Settlement, the Nursery, with 
 the Bible nurse, the working women's Bureau, 
 and finally the winter garden." 
 
 " What ! What is that which you have sprung 
 upon us all at once?" cried Deborah and Leila. 
 
 " It is not for you, not for us ; it is the ' Work 
 of the City for its Own 'a work which doctors 
 and ministers and public-spirited citizens should
 
 288 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 arouse themselves to inaugurate, through the 
 city council. Our cities have parks, have bands 
 of music in public gardens, have baths and 
 swimming baths and out-of-door gymnasia for 
 summer, and yet it is safe to say there are only 
 four months in the year when these things are 
 needed. We have long winters, long cold springs 
 and falls, and where can the people gather then ? 
 Where is a good place for the boys, out of school 
 hours ? Where a place free from temptation for 
 the men? There should be, in every ward, a 
 house with reading-rooms, lecture-rooms, gym- 
 nasium and the children of the public school 
 should be encouraged to give entertainments, 
 with music, speaking, and so on ; while our 
 school teachers could give lectures with experi- 
 ments and pictures, and musical amateurs could 
 bring music, and artists could come with black- 
 boards to entertain, or to really help, by hints 
 on free-hand drawing. These winter gardens, 
 warm, light, bright, with the popular games of 
 the day, with chess, checkers, dominos, fox and 
 geese, solitaire, could compete with the bar-room 
 and grog-shops ; they would empty the grog- 
 shops and elevate the people." 
 
 And so Deborah constantly found her life 
 growing broader and richer ; those financial and 
 social losses which at first had seemed to narrow 
 and restrict her were only gateways of greater
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 289 
 
 opportunity. If she had remained the cold, 
 selfish, idle Deborah of other days, would she 
 have entered heartily into these plans of Jacque- 
 line ? Would she have inspired and helped 
 Leila ? Deborah had never been a close friend 
 of either of these girls until a common senti- 
 ment of Christian charity had drawn them near 
 together. 
 
 Uncle Josiah, as Jacqueline's counsellor, had 
 his time and his heart filled with the work of the 
 Settlement, and the sturdy old man seemed to 
 have renewed his youth, so bright and full his 
 life had become. Life proves amply worth the 
 living when we fill it with work for others. Do- 
 ing God's errands makes time run " in golden 
 currents on." 
 
 Nurse Agnes was not left out of these inter- 
 ests ; she heard of all that was to be done, and 
 the life of a Bible nurse seemed to her so beauti- 
 ful that she wished to engage in it ; but she had 
 Uncle Josiah and Deborah to take care of, and 
 Uncle Josiah said that the nurses should not be 
 over forty or forty-five years of age when they 
 began work. However, it was almost as pleasant 
 to help select furnishings for the Day Nursery 
 and to discuss the means of securing a proper 
 Bible nurse and also nurses for the little ones. 
 The entire Grosvenor household seemed to be 
 young people, buying a home and making it 
 
 Mr Gn.svcuor's Daughter. IQ
 
 290 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ready, so regular were their pilgrimages to the 
 house that Jacqueline had leased for her Settle- 
 ment. 
 
 Busy in the shirt-factory as she was all day, 
 Deborah was only free in the evenings, but then 
 some of the ten who were to form the Settlement 
 were likely to be at the house, making plans and 
 looking at the repairs ; and through the empty 
 rooms, among the debris of plasterers and paper- 
 hangers and joiners, rang the clear voices and 
 happy laughter of girls, and in and out of the 
 purlieus of Romaine Court flitted figures en- 
 cased in tailor-made gowns and wearing fine 
 boots and eight-button gloves. Deborah thought 
 these girls were far in advance of her former 
 society friends. These girls had a purpose in 
 their eyes; they were girls who lived not for 
 self and selfish amusement, but for noble pur- 
 poses ; they were college or university-bred girls, 
 most of them, with well-trained minds, capable 
 of planning wisely and carrying out their plans. 
 Full of life and of mirth, their wit was worth 
 hearing, and they had no time to waste in gos- 
 sip or censoriousness, because there was always 
 some good theme worth talking about waiting 
 for them. 
 
 Deborah saw clearly that somewhere and 
 somehow she must make time for reading and 
 keeping abreast of the topics of the day, if she
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 29! 
 
 was to live at the intellectual level of these new 
 friends. But how could she make time for read- 
 ing ? For nine hours a day she was busy in the 
 finishing-room. "If I were a labor agitator," 
 she said to Uncle Josiah, " I should agitate for 
 an eight-hour law. Where shall we find time 
 for any cultivation of the mind, if we have to 
 spend ten hours daily in getting food for the 
 mouth and covering for the back ?" 
 
 While Deborah was thus busy, not only with 
 her daily duties, but with her new friends who 
 were bringing hitherto unknown joys into her 
 life, she noticed that Jean's face was growing 
 cloudy. She thought two or three times that 
 she would ask what was wrong, but life was so 
 full now for the once idle Deborah that in 
 crowding cares each day she neglected her pur- 
 pose towards Jean. One evening Martha lin- 
 gered after the girls left the finishing-room. 
 " Miss Grosvenor," she spoke up, " I wish you 'd 
 look after Jean a little." 
 
 " Jean ! is she going wrong !" cried Deborah 
 with a pang at her heart. 
 
 " Not yet, and I know you would be cruelly 
 hurt if she did ; and if she falls now, I fear it 
 will be never to rise again." 
 
 " Tell me all about it, Martha," said Deborah, 
 dropping her account-book. Nothing now was 
 of any consequence but Jean.
 
 292 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " All about it is she 's jealous," said Martha. 
 
 " Jealous ? I do n't understand." 
 
 " Why Jean just adores you. She says she 
 first understood how the Lord could stoop to 
 poor sinful folks, and be interested for them 
 and faithful to their cause now that he is in 
 glory, by seeing how you live among us and 
 work for us and are faithful to us." 
 
 " I came because I had to not voluntarily," 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " I know. But you came cheerfully, and you 
 might have gone back. Well Jean felt all this ; 
 but lately, with the Settlement-house and the 
 young ladies there, you have not noticed Jean 
 so much, and she says if you give her up she 
 might just as well give herself up, and make 
 sure it is all a mistake about the Lord's caring 
 for her!" 
 
 " Poor tempted girl !" cried Deborah with 
 tears in her eyes, " how many snares Satan has 
 for souls ! I did not mean to neglect her. 
 Martha, you see to it that you all are at home 
 in your rooms to-night, ready to receive com- 
 pany. I am coming to call with the college 
 girls. We want you to help us with our Set- 
 tlement." 
 
 " Thank you for Jean," said Martha frankly, 
 " but you need not think you must bring me in, 
 Miss Grosvenor, for I am glad enough to get
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 293 
 
 the opportunity you are giving me to make a 
 stand for myself." 
 
 "We want you all in it," said Deborah 
 warmly. " We cannot do without one of you ! 
 These University girls are all as much interested 
 in every one of you as I am, only they do not 
 yet know you quite so well. I wasted in selfish- 
 ness the years when I had money and leisure, 
 but these girls are good stewards of the mani- 
 fold grace of God. There is Hannah Lane, the 
 pretty one, with the fluffy yellow hair what do 
 you think she has done ? She has fitted up a 
 room on the first floor for a sewing-room, with 
 a cutting-table and three sewing-machines, so 
 that girls can come in and learn to cut and make 
 their clothes. And Mary Field has taken the 
 charge of putting four bath-rooms in the base- 
 ment of the house, and girls can bring their 
 own towels and soap and have a bath for five 
 cents. You know there is to be no pauperizing. 
 Mary Field got her money for the bath-rooms by 
 selling some diamonds that her aunt had left 
 her. She says she does not care for jewelry, 
 and as long as the money is needed for Christian 
 benevolence she feels as if she ought not to 
 keep it tied up in gems. Hannah Lane sold a 
 saddle horse to get her money for the sewing- 
 room. She and her sister each had one, and 
 Hannah sold hers, and will share her sister's
 
 294 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 horse while she is at home. Now I never made 
 any sacrifices like that. Oh I was so selfish and 
 indifferent !" 
 
 Martha looked at her with tears in her eyes. 
 "May I tell the girls all that just what you 
 have said about yourself and all? It will do 
 them good. I know it will be what Jean needs." 
 
 " Yes ; tell them, and tell them that I try to 
 outgrow the old selfishness, but sometimes I 
 forget and am neglectful, and when I am that, 
 I am unlike my Master and Lord. I confess my 
 fault to you." 
 
 Suddenly Martha went behind Deborah. 
 " Do n't turn, do n't look at me. I cannot bear 
 it. I must tell you now. You must know the 
 truth. I went wrong once terribly wrong. I 
 was a cashier in a shop. I stole some money." 
 
 Deborah turned towards the girl. " Dear 
 Martha, I know it must have been through ter- 
 rible temptation. It was not a fault natural to 
 you." She clasped Martha in her arms. 
 
 " I had a brother dying of consumption, and 
 we were very poor. My employer, in consider- 
 ation of the circumstances, did not prosecute 
 me, but dismissed me without recommendation, 
 and I just could not rise or make any way again 
 until you held out a helping hand to me." 
 
 Both the girls were in tears. Then Deborah 
 spoke gently : " We both see where we have
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 295 
 
 failed. Let us take courage for ourselves and 
 others. I remember some lines of a poem I re- 
 cently read, bidding us 
 
 " ' Judge none lost, but wait and see 
 With hopeful pity, not disdain ; 
 The depth of the abyss may be 
 
 The measure of the height of pain, 
 And love and glory, that may raise 
 The soul to God in after days.' " 
 
 " You are learning, you are learning," cried 
 Uncle Josiah that evening, rubbing his hands 
 together and giving a joyful chuckle. "You 
 are being tested, child, and you shall come out 
 like gold. It is worth while." 
 
 "Anything is worth while that makes us 
 less selfish and detestable," said Deborah ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 Deborah and Uncle Josiah called for the 
 University girls, and they all made their visit at 
 the rooms where Martha, Jean, Bella, and 
 another young woman lived. It did not take ten 
 minutes for Deborah and pretty Hannah Lane 
 to break the ice of restraint and bring the 
 working-girls into sympathy with the student 
 girls, and a happy hour of talk and explanation 
 followed. Then Mary Field whispered to Jean, 
 and they went out and came back with popped 
 corn, apples, cracked nuts, a box of figs, and a 
 dozen of paper napkins. The feast was joyful,
 
 296 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and Martha whispered to Deborah, " It is all 
 right now with Jean, I see it in her eyes." 
 
 Jean herself took Deborah aside and said, 
 half crying, " Dear Miss Deborah ! I have 
 been so jealous and envious. I thought you had 
 forgotten me for those others. And I said to 
 myself, Perhaps the Lord, having all those beau- 
 tiful angels up yonder, sets no store by poor 
 me. But I see I was wrong. You do remem- 
 ber me, and he does. I wonder you can, miss, 
 with such lovely young ladies to be with !" 
 
 " Would your mother forget you for the 
 angels, Jean?" 
 
 " My mither ! na, not for a' the angels in 
 glory!" 
 
 Jean only relapsed into her Scotch accent 
 when her heart was softened by thoughts of her 
 mother or strong feeling, she had been in 
 America so many years. 
 
 " Neither would the Lord who bought you 
 forget you for all the angels, my dear girl," said 
 Deborah. " Good-night." 
 
 Finally the Settlement "No. i," as Jacque- 
 line named it was all in order, fully organized 
 and equipped for work. Uncle Josiah had 
 aided in collecting funds for the running ex- 
 penses. The Settlement was not to be a head- 
 quarters for doll-giving, but an exemplary home, 
 a place of resort for comfort, for advice, fo* im-
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 
 
 provement. Evening classes were arranged. 
 Mary Field taught book-keeping and typewri- 
 ting two evenings in each week. Hannah Lane 
 taught stenography and drawing ; Jacqueline 
 was ready to give lessons in modern languages, 
 and her mother taught penmanship, embroidery, 
 drawn work ; almost any working-girl who 
 wished to pursue some especial study in the 
 evening hours could find instruction, freely 
 given, at the Settlement. A city dressmaker 
 of high repute offered to give two evenings a 
 month in the sewing-room to instruction in cut- 
 ting and fitting and making dresses and jackets. 
 The whole aim of the Settlement was to refine 
 and improve all those who came under its in- 
 fluence, so that instead of being pauperized, 
 their desire should be to provide honorably for 
 themselves and make friendly return for favors 
 received. Jacqueline had constant proof of this. 
 Girls who used the sewing-room came of their 
 own accord, early on Saturday mornings, to 
 polish the windows of No. i ; girls who were 
 taught in the evening classes came insisting 
 upon doing laundry work. A very hopeful 
 token of the real good that was being done was 
 the self-help and the spirit of honorable inde- 
 pendence that were displayed. Deborah was 
 prouder of her girls than ever. 
 
 And Deborah herself was wonderfully helped
 
 298 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and enlivened by the presence of the girls in 
 No. i ; they were congenial companions, and 
 the evenings spent with them refreshed her as 
 cold water the thirsty traveller. It was only a 
 square or two from Romaine Court to No. i, and 
 scarcely a day passed when Deborah was not 
 there. She found there the intellectual help 
 that she needed. While some of the members 
 of the Settlement were busy in teaching, there 
 were always others at leisure in the sitting-room. 
 Any of the women and girls of the neighbor- 
 hood were welcome to come in there, to sit and 
 listen with the rest, for in the evening there 
 was always reading. The books of the day, the 
 subjects of the day, were taken up, and books 
 were read without a comment, unless some one 
 asked a question. The book reviews were read 
 aloud, and if some book reviewed promised to 
 be especially attractive it was either purchased 
 or brought from the city library. It is wonder- 
 ful how much ground can be covered by two 
 hours of reading, two or three times a week. 
 Deborah learned more and more the virtue that 
 there is in systematized work and study. 
 
 And then how much planning went on at 
 No. i ! When reading hours were over, the 
 girls drew around the open fire-place and plan- 
 ned. There were all kinds of plans, plans for 
 being missionaries, and for running a sheep,,
 
 THE SETTLEMENT. 299 
 
 ranch, and journeying around the world to in- 
 quire into the status of the general woman. 
 Deborah planned for her "Working Women's 
 Bureau," and she kept a note-book wherein she 
 wrote the various suggestions made for her 
 Bureau by the inmates of No. I.
 
 300 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 
 
 " A maiden knight, to me is given 
 
 Such hope I know no fear ; 
 I yearn to breathe the airs of heaven 
 
 That often meet me here. 
 I muse on joys that will not cease, 
 
 Pure spaces clothed in living beams, 
 Pure lilies of eternal peace, 
 
 Whose odors haunt my dreams ; 
 And, stricken by an angel's hands, 
 
 This mortal armor that I wear, 
 This weight and size, this heart and eyes, 
 
 Are touched and turned to finest air." 
 
 JACQUELINE'S Settlement was opened the first 
 day of December, and on Christmas Day there 
 was a tree for the girls and boys of the neigh- 
 borhood. Leila had found occupation and hap- 
 piness during November and December in pre- 
 paring gifts for the ten or fifteen babies in the 
 new Day Nursery and for the mothers also. 
 Every Sabbath afternoon the Bible nurse went 
 to Leila's home, reported the work of the week, 
 the needs of the Dispensary, and the most note- 
 worthy cases ; then she took tea with Leila and 
 her companion, went to evening service, and re- 
 turned home refreshed for next week's work.
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 3<DI 
 
 Does any one say that in rich America, with 
 its many millionaires, its great fortunes, where a 
 hundred thousand dollars do not make a person 
 rich, where people proclaim that no one need be 
 poor unless vicious no need existed for a Bible 
 Nurse ? Let us take an extract or two from the 
 reports of this nurse. " I found a girl of four- 
 teen with her shoulder badly grown out and de- 
 formed by carrying a heavy child for five years ; 
 this child being large and fat, but unable to 
 walk from some trouble in the bones." The 
 nurse took the girl to a Surgical Hospital, and 
 the doctor said she must attend one hour at the 
 Physical Culture class each day until cured. 
 No charge would be made. Ah, then this girl 
 would be all right ! Not at all. The family are 
 too poor to pay car-fare to the Hospital, and 
 even if that were paid, they are too poor to dis- 
 pense with the girl's earnings of two dollars 
 and a quarter weekly, which she makes in a to- 
 bacco factory, and if she goes daily to the Hos- 
 pital she will lose that place. Furthermore, she 
 must go on carrying the child ; there is no one 
 else to do it, and if she does not carry him about 
 at noon and in the evening he screams all night. 
 Thus Lena is doomed to a miserable, deformed, 
 sickly existence. 
 
 Again a case : The nurse found the family 
 of a scissors-grinder ; the wife cuts and sews
 
 302 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 carpet-rags at three cents a pound* she works 
 from twelve to fifteen hours a day ; beside her 
 as she works lies a boy of nine, far gone in con- 
 sumption, inhaling the dust and lint from the 
 rags which infect all the air in the two close, 
 miserable rooms. Again : A widow with four 
 small children ; she was sick of pleurisy and 
 for three weeks had earned nothing ; the nurse 
 found her unable to stand up, crying over a 
 bundle containing a small clock, a majolica 
 pitcher, a little plaster cast, and a muff, which 
 she was making ready for the eldest boy, eight 
 years of age, to carry to the pawnbroker's. At 
 one home the Bible Nurse found a little girl 
 putting in practice what she had learned at the 
 Cooking School ; the mother was sick, and this 
 child was housekeeper. The father having paid 
 the week's rent, and bought two bushels of coal, 
 had but ten cents to provide tea and breakfast 
 for five. The ten-year-old girl, grown discreet 
 as a woman under the hard tutelage of poverty, 
 inventoried the supplies in her cupboard, and 
 found pepper, salt, a stale loaf, and a pint of 
 milk. She bought four cents' worth of mac- 
 caroni, a penny pat of butter and a penny roll 
 for the sick mother, a pound of corn meal for 
 two cents, and two cents' worth of molasses. 
 The meal made into mush served with the mo- 
 lasses and half the loaf for breakfast, the oth^r
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 303 
 
 half of the loaf, and the maccaroni with the 
 milk cooked in it, afforded the supper. 
 
 " How smart my girl is !" said the gratified 
 father. " I must be a good, steady man when 
 my child can make such good use of what I 
 earn." 
 
 The nurse found one morning a woman with 
 six children, just moved into an attic. The 
 woman was crying bitterly as she set her few 
 goods in order. " I have left my husband and 
 taken my poor children with me. He was drink 
 crazy all the time. He used up all I earned, 
 swore at me from morning till night, and kicked 
 and beat the children until I thought he would 
 kill them or make idiots of them. Oh when I 
 married him I thought he loved me and we 
 should be happy together, but drink has spoiled 
 it all !" 
 
 For such cases what does the Bible nurse 
 do? She cares for the sick mothers, provides 
 nourishment for the sick child, rescues the poor 
 little treasures that were going to the pawnshop 
 and gives their owner a small sum of money for 
 present needs. She makes suggestions to the 
 ten-year-old housekeeper and provides suitable 
 diet for her mother, while she explains to the 
 fugitive mother legal means for her security and 
 provides work for her and a place in the Day 
 Nursery for the two younger children. The
 
 304 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 other children of these families are given 
 clothing, so that they can go to the Mission Sun- 
 day-school, and the mothers are all engaged to 
 come on Sunday afternoon to the Mothers' 
 Meeting. The sight of a friendly face, the good 
 cheer brought by the words of a strong, capable, 
 self-reliant woman, fill the dull, vacant places in 
 their poor weary hearts and bring courage to 
 take the place of despair. This woman's sym- 
 pathy and message of good are, no doubt, to 
 these forlorn creatures their first contact with 
 Christian philanthropy ; in her, first, for them 
 religion puts on her beautiful garments and 
 walks by their side in heavenly ministration. 
 
 There were weeks also when the Bible nurse 
 had to tell her principal of death-beds soothed 
 and dying ears made glad by words of One who 
 entered the grave and came forth leading cap- 
 tivity captive. By means of this Bible nurse 
 Leila, the crippled invalid, went among the 
 homes of the needy. She knew personal needs 
 and sent personal gifts. To the little consump- 
 tive a flannel wrapper, a picture book, a bottle 
 of lime juice, and glasses of apple jelly. To 
 keep quiet the sick widow's children went dolls 
 and a box of ninepins. The poor abused wife 
 received bedding and furniture. Sometimes the 
 Bible nurse brought women or children to see 
 the lady who had been a sister born for their
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 305 
 
 adversity. Then Leila had them served with 
 refreshments, and so filled their visit with good 
 cheer that it seemed like a little piece of 
 heaven. 
 
 "I do not wonder, Deborah," said Leila, 
 when one evening Uncle Josiah and Deborah 
 came to visit her, " I do not at all wonder that 
 you so much enjoy work among the needy. I 
 feel that I never knew such interest, such true 
 happiness, as I find in helping them. This life 
 of service is real living." 
 
 " I think now nothing could turn me from 
 it," said Deborah. 
 
 " Suppose that now you came unexpectedly 
 into some money," said Uncle Josiah, "what 
 would you do with it?" 
 
 "Use it for starting my Bureau, if it was 
 enough." 
 
 "What, first of all? I should suppose that 
 you would arrange to leave the shirt-factory, 
 support yourself out of what you had, and give 
 what you could spare and your time, if you 
 could spare any." 
 
 "That might do, uncle, if the work in the 
 factory were hurting me at all. But it is not. 
 I am perfectly well, and also I know that I am 
 of use in the factory. I am a useful forewoman 
 to the girls, and not a poor one for the firm. 
 There is no reason why I should wish to stop 
 
 Mr. Ores vcnor'e Daughter. 2O
 
 306 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 earning my living. Work is far less wearisome 
 than such idleness as I once had. I do truly 
 think that if I received money now, I should 
 put it into my cherished plan of a Working 
 Women's Bureau. I could start a Bureau only 
 in one ward. But some one else might like 
 the plan, take the hint, and start a Bureau in the 
 next ward, and so on, until every ward in the 
 city had one." 
 
 "Not the rich people's wards, where all 
 women live at ease ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes, in them too. They should have 
 their Bureau where the women, the philan- 
 thropic workers, should meet and devise plans 
 for helping the children, caring for the sick, 
 giving industrial training to the young boys 
 and girls, benefiting the servant women and ele- 
 vating them morally as a class. In short, in the 
 rich wards the Bureau should be an institute 
 for workers. Why how much I once needed 
 such a training !" 
 
 " Would you have gone near such a Bureau 
 in those days?" 
 
 " I might, if it had been made fashionable 
 and stirred up my curiosity by being talked of 
 in my set. If some one of the social leaders 
 had taken hold of such an enterprise, they could 
 have drawn into it us young girls who looked 
 up to them as our examples."
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 307 
 
 " It is very hard to serve God and mammon," 
 said Uncle Josiah, "and when a woman be- 
 comes immersed in the duties of philanthropy 
 she has little time for balls and operas and card- 
 parties ; she is presently considered Puritanical 
 and ceases to be a social leader." 
 
 " Perhaps some one will arise," said Deborah, 
 "who can hold her social throne in influence, 
 because of some commanding force and gran- 
 deur in her character, while at the same time 
 she is an enthusiast in philanthropic work. 
 Thus she will turn the energies of girls of 
 wealth and leisure into the channels of Chris- 
 tian service. When such a one. arises, we 
 shall all, rich and poor working women, be will- 
 ing to sit at her feet. As for me, uncle, what a 
 fantasy of fairyland is this of my ever again 
 having the opportunities of money ! Why do 
 you not ask me how I will farm lands in the 
 moon, if ever I hold any in fee simple ?" 
 
 " I only wished to learn how much you had 
 changed in theory since you were Deborah the 
 unready." 
 
 " Well, I certainly hope that if it is in me to 
 be selfish again if I am prosperous, the Lord 
 will grant me only such measure of prosperity 
 as I shall be capable of using properly." 
 
 The winter passed away and February 
 brought the first crocus and Valentine's Day.
 
 308 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Uncle Josiah went away early, and came home 
 at nightfall, saying, " Deborah, I have news for 
 you." 
 
 " What news ? From Leila ?" 
 
 " No. Business news news from your fa- 
 ther's former partner. I have six thousand 
 dollars for you." 
 
 Deborah started to her feet. Once six thou- 
 sand dollars would have seemed very little to 
 the heiress of a million, but now it seemed so 
 much ! " Uncle, is it possible ?" 
 
 " It is a fact. It is not wealth, but it can be 
 good-by to Romaine Court and the shirt-fac- 
 tory." 
 
 " O uncle ! I do not care for that ! Romaine 
 Court is not Arcadia, but we live here with tol- 
 erable comfort ; we have so many advantages 
 here that our neighbors do not share. We can 
 surely get along here if others can. Unless 
 unless you and Nurse Jamieson want to get 
 away." 
 
 " Oh I like it here ; I am doing some good 
 here, and that is a great matter for a man who 
 has reached my time of life, idle time." 
 
 " You will never have idle time ; you are a 
 born worker." 
 
 " And I like living here the noo, my lamb," 
 said Nurse Agnes. " Dinna think o' us. Think 
 o' yersel."
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 309 
 
 "I shall think of my girls," said Deborah 
 stoutly. "I am young and strong and unen- 
 cumbered. Now or never is the time for me to 
 do a good work. I shall plant my Bureau ! It 
 will be a very humble little Bureau at first, with 
 only that money ; but if it is pleasing to God he 
 will make it grow." 
 
 " Consider carefully, my child. Do not be 
 rash. Do not do what you may presently re- 
 gret. Suppose this is your last money?" 
 
 " I have myself hands, feet, eyes, senses. 
 Other women live by the help of their ten 
 fingers, why not I? Uncle, it is written that 
 ' whoso putteth his hand to the plough and look- 
 eth back is not fit for the kingdom of God.' " 
 
 " And where shall the Bureau be planted ?" 
 
 " Here in this ward. If we can get one ward 
 properly equipped for helping people to help 
 themselves, then other wards may copy, and the 
 work may spread. Here we have a ward Nursery 
 and a ward Settlement, and I will start a ward 
 Bureau ; then the city may give us a ward win- 
 ter garden. It would not cost one-half of what 
 is lost or stolen from the city yearly. Then we 
 should be a well-equipped ward." 
 
 " Not fully equipped still. I have a plan for 
 something more." 
 
 " What is it, uncle ? tell me." 
 
 " In every ward where there are factories I
 
 3io MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 want to see a model factory, conducted on lib- 
 eral Christian principles. I want not only one, 
 but two or three, so that people shall see how 
 Christian principle works in business as be- 
 tween employer and employed, and so that 
 others will follow the example." 
 
 " Rendel Brothers have a factory that is rap- 
 idly reaching this ideal of a working place, and 
 promoting the ideal state of feeling between 
 employers and employed. Here again our ward 
 is standing at the forefront of experiments in 
 Christian philanthropy." 
 
 " That is true, and by the time Rendel Bro- 
 thers have perfected their plans and brought 
 the establishment up to their ideal, I hope that 
 others will fall into line." 
 
 "It is owre late," said Nurse Agnes; "you 
 will be weary the morn, Miss Deborah." 
 
 " This six thousand dollars makes for me a 
 noble valentine," said Deborah, " and I shall 
 get to work with it as soon as I can, so that I 
 may make my Working Women's Bureau an 
 Easter offering to my Lord." 
 
 " Let us have prayers," said Uncle Josiah, 
 reaching for the Bible, " and we will ask the 
 Lord to give us the spirit of wise counsel, so 
 that we can plan in his fear and by his aid, 
 and be blessed to carry all our plans to comple- 
 tion."
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 3x1 
 
 Probably there was no girl in the city who 
 felt as rich as Deborah Grosvenor did that night. 
 When she went to bed she could not sleep. She 
 lay awake rejoicing, praying for help to carry 
 out some noble plan, to do well some work for 
 God. All that she asked was to lay herself and 
 her little fortune on God's altar ; it is the altar 
 that sanctifieth the gift. The moonlight fell 
 broadly into her room oh small, plain room, 
 that had been to her as a Bethel ! She had " no 
 backward thoughts and no re turnings " towards 
 her home of luxury, full of costly trifles, where 
 splendor had lapped her into forgetfulness of 
 God and of her fellows. True, her aesthetic 
 tastes had not changed ; she would still have 
 enjoyed beauty of form and color, ease, fra- 
 grance, grace ; she would have thought it right 
 to share and use these still, if God had willed to 
 give them in such measure that she could use 
 without abuse and enjoy without selfishness. 
 Deprived of what she had formerly possessed, 
 she had found a deeper, more engrossing joy in 
 devoting herself to the uplifting of her working 
 sisters. 
 
 " The high desire that others may be blessed 
 Savors of heaven." 
 
 The next evening there was to be a meeting 
 in the interests of working women ; to some it 
 would be a dry and tedious meeting, held by a
 
 312 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 committee which had been investigating the 
 condition of working women, and came armed 
 with abundant statistics as to homes, numbers, 
 health, wages, character, occupations. 
 
 " It is right," said Deborah at the work-room, 
 " that you girls should understand yourselves as 
 a class ; you had better go." 
 
 She went herself, taking Jean, Bella, and 
 Martha. 
 
 When the meeting was over, as they came 
 back towards Romaine Court the girls going 
 joyfully as their dear Miss Deborah's bodyguard 
 " There 's a fire !" cried Jean, pointing to a red 
 glare; "hark to the engines and the people 
 rushing along two streets beyond ! I believe it 
 is near Mrs. Bent's. I hope she wont be burned 
 out. She has made her little rooms so cosey for 
 herself and Mabel and that sick niece she takes 
 care of." 
 
 " Let us go that way, keeping out of the 
 crowd," said Deborah anxiously. " I cannot 
 bear to think of such a trouble for Mrs. Bent." 
 
 " It 's her block, sure enough," said Jean, 
 when they had gone a few paces farther. " 1 11 
 run on ; I 'm so strong ; I may help Mrs. Bent 
 while others do n't think of her." 
 
 She sped away, and Deborah followed with 
 Martha and Bella. Finally on a corner, beyond 
 the crowd, in a little damp area before an office,
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 313 
 
 lo a trunk, a chintz-covered box, a bed, a few 
 quilts, and, watching beside the forlorn heap, 
 Mabel Bent ! " Oh, my dear !" cried Deborah. 
 
 Mabel burst into tears; she pointed to the 
 few goods. " It is all we have left," she sobbed, 
 " and our home was so sweet !" 
 
 The scene was so pathetic that Deborah and 
 her two girls wept for sympathy. 
 
 The fire roaring and leaping, the rolls of 
 smoke dropping low, the swaying crowds, the 
 flashing engines, these made up the great pic- 
 ture. This group of girls weeping over the res- 
 cued Penates was as the little corner-sketch on 
 the margin of an artist's proof ! 
 
 "Where is your mother?" asked Deborah. 
 
 " She is bringing Cousin Molly, and Jean ran 
 on to help her." 
 
 A moment after Mrs. Bent and Jean ap- 
 peared carrying poor Molly, but as they almost 
 reached the corner an engine with its accompa- 
 nying crowd whirled up the street and Mrs. 
 Bent was knocked down. Impulsively Deborah 
 sprang forward to help her. Some men carry- 
 ing a ladder turned in the narrow space, and 
 Deborah was struck on the head. What matter ? 
 It was only one woman more fallen and tram- 
 pled over in the rush of life. Women should be 
 keepers at home and not out in such places ! 
 
 But as Deborah fell, a big lad, mounted with
 
 314 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the firemen on the engine, gave a loud cry, 
 " My lady !" and down he flung himself and 
 pushed here and there and had lifted Debo- 
 rah's unconscious form while Bella and Martha 
 threw up their arms and ran forward. It was 
 but a minute or two, then the little group had 
 re-collected; Deborah was now laid upon Mrs. 
 Bent's mattress, supported by Jean and Oliver, 
 Mrs. Bent upholding Molly, and all crying over 
 this still rigid form that before them had always 
 seemed so active, so strong, so brave, going in 
 and out as an angel of mercy. 
 
 " Martha," said Jean, " you run away for a 
 doctor and on to tell Mistress Jamieson. Bella, 
 you look after Molly and help Mrs. Bent get 
 her and the things to our rooms. Oliver, you 
 and I can carry our young lady home." 
 
 " I could carry her across the world !" cried 
 Oliver, "if it would do any good. Oh, Jean, 
 wont she speak to us more? She has spoken 
 to me like a voice out of heaven ! Is she 
 dead?" 
 
 " She 's no deid," said Jean sturdily ; " what 
 wad we a' do if she were deid ? The Lord wad- 
 na tak' her awa' fra sic a hantle o' poor fules as 
 we are, wha need her sae!" 
 
 The depth of her emotion had rendered to 
 poor Jean all her Scotch, and as Oliver observed 
 later to Bella, " Jean did not speak one word of
 
 A TEST APPLIED. 315 
 
 proper English all the five days that Miss Gros- 
 venor lay in her bed." 
 
 Uncle Josiah was out of town that night, and 
 Jean was the mainstay of the occasion : she 
 fought furiously the proposition of the doctor 
 to take the injured girl to a hospital. " Mis- 
 tress Jamieson and I can nurse her weel," she 
 cried hotly, "an* I hae twa hunner dollars in 
 bank yet, o' my ain demeges money, an' I can 
 lay it all oot in takin' tent o' her. She 's welcome 
 to the last penny, an' my life to boot ! sae she 
 is!" 
 
 It was Jean who went on foot through the 
 night, and brought the best surgeon in the city 
 to Deborah's bedside, forcing him to come by 
 her tears and her eloquence. It was Jean who 
 sat statue-like by Deborah's bed, and who took 
 no rest but snatches of sleep caught lying on 
 the floor at the foot of the bed. It was Jean who 
 three or four times daily signalled from the win- 
 dow with a kerchief to the crowd of factory girls 
 and mission children who came to get news of 
 " their lady." 
 
 "If I wave a white kerchief, ye may ken 
 she 's doin' weel," Jean had said, and the ker- 
 chief was always waved, and at the end of five 
 days, Jean, almost hysterical with joy, rushed 
 down to her constituents announcing, " She 's 
 brawly ! she 's brawly ! an' in five days mair
 
 316 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 we '11 tak her intil the kintra, to Miss Stirling for 
 a little, an* then she '11 be amang us ance mair !" 
 
 Deborah, lying on her little white bed, smiled 
 at Agnes. " This is all right, nurse dear ; until 
 now I have had no experience of sickness or 
 pain ; now I know what it is among my poor." 
 
 And those days had passed so quickly that 
 they had scarcely been reckoned !
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 3 1/ 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 
 
 " And I arose, and I released 
 The casement, and the light increased 
 With freshness in the dawning east. 
 
 " I wondered at the beauteous hours, 
 The slow result of winter showers ; 
 You scarce could see the grass for flowers." 
 
 THE spring came and Deborah had made 
 ready her Easter offering to God all that she 
 had, even all her living, the dedicated six thou- 
 sand dollars. 
 
 Uncle Josiah had scrupulously left her to 
 manage this Bureau business entirely by her- 
 self ; he had not helped her as he had Jacque- 
 line. 
 
 "I am not responsible," he said to Nurse 
 Agnes, "for the training of Miss Jacqueline 
 Day ; if as a young lady she desires friendly 
 aid in her plans and their execution, I am glad 
 to render it. But this matter of the Bureau is to 
 help educate Deborah, and to show what busi- 
 ness talent she has, and what the methods of 
 her philanthropy shall be ; so I shall not even 
 make a suggestion to her. I shall restrict my-
 
 3i8 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 self entirely to carrying out what she concludes 
 should be done." 
 
 Agnes listened to this discourse with admira- 
 tion : she often told herself that " Maister Josiah 
 used verra fine words, like to an organ. The 
 words themsel's she didna always unnerstan', 
 but aye the drift o' them ; and that was the 
 main thing. There were some preachers," 
 Nurse Agnes concluded, " who were the same i' 
 the poolpit ; the drift ane could unnerstan', but 
 not a' the gey fine language ; however, the drift 
 o' it was the main thing, though fine words wi' a 
 gran* soun* weel became the grandeur o' the 
 house o' God, like the soun' o' an organ." 
 
 Deborah, left to herself, sought out a house 
 and found one in Bell Street, just two blocks 
 distant from Romaine Court. The house was 
 newer than most of those in the neighborhood ; 
 it was made of brick, with a basement of four 
 rooms, and three stories, each with three rooms 
 and a hall. The owner of this house being in 
 need of ready money, Deborah purchased a five 
 years' lease from him for twenty-five hundred 
 dollars. Uncle Josiah smiled to himself when he 
 saw the carefulness with which Deborah bar- 
 gained, examined the title, had a lease carefully 
 drawn up, and the owner's insurance secured to 
 herself for such loss as might accrue from fire 
 before her lease was terminated. " I shall take
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 319 
 
 as good care of the place as I can," said Deborah, 
 " but if it burns down with two or three years of 
 my lease unexpired, I cannot lose rent money 
 for all that time. I must have back out of the 
 insurance the five hundred a year for the unex- 
 pired time. This is the Lord's money that I am 
 spending, and I mean to be a good steward." 
 
 The lease secured, Deborah spent one thou- 
 sand dollars on such alterations and furnishing 
 as she needed and put in bank twenty-two hun- 
 dred dollars, saying that for five years she should 
 spend five hundred a year on the Bureau. 
 
 " Why this five years?" asked Uncle Josiah. 
 
 "With the most careful management," said 
 Deborah, " five years are all that I can cover with 
 six thousand dollars. And five years will be 
 enough to show whether my idea is worth any- 
 thing, and to reveal to me any methods to make 
 the Bureau even partly self-supporting. If at 
 the end of five years my Bureau has vindicated 
 its raison d* etre, then perhaps Leila or some of 
 her friends, or some philanthropist whom you 
 may discover, may be ready to supply whatever 
 the Bureau itself cannot supply, and so continue 
 the work. If in five years I do not make it clear 
 that it is a useful and needed institution, let it 
 die a natural death." 
 
 " That is sound sense," said Uncle Josiah ; 
 " all such things are experiments in their initia-
 
 320 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tive. We have bought a yoke of oxen and we 
 go to prove them." 
 
 " Have we any pieces of our own furniture 
 left that will do for the sitting-room of the Bu- 
 reau ?" asked Deborah ; " are all the goods from 
 the attic used up ? Where did you store them ?" 
 
 " In a friend's loft," said Uncle Josiah, "and 
 I think I can find enough there for the sitting- 
 room. I '11 bring all now to the Bureau. There 
 is not much." 
 
 " After work-hours to-night," said Deborah, 
 "you and Agnes and I will go to 51 Bell Street, 
 and I will show you how I mean to arrange it. 
 I have had the alterations made, and they cost 
 me two hundred dollars." 
 
 " So you have eight hundred dollars for fur- 
 nishing?" 
 
 " Yes ; and these things that we have here. 
 We can make it do. Agnes and I will make up 
 the bedding here on the machine." 
 
 Uncle Josiah and Agnes found 51 Bell Street 
 clean and bright, the door and window-frames 
 newly painted, and " Working Women's Bu- 
 reau " in large red and black letters, arching the 
 front-door. The basement of four rooms had 
 been arranged for a kitchen, dining-room, and 
 laundry, while the fourth room had been divided 
 into three bath-rooms. The kitchen had in it a 
 range and a large refrigerator ; the laundry
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 
 
 three stationary tubs, two benches, a clothes- 
 frame, ironing-table, and a laundry stove. 
 
 "Now for the first floor," said Deborah. 
 " This front room is for the office. Next behind 
 it is Nurse Agnes' room, and behind that, this 
 room with sun also, like the other two, shall 
 have two beds in it and be our invalids' room. 
 As Agnes is to superintend the office and the in- 
 valids, I put her here between the two. The 
 house is on a southwest corner, with the hall on 
 the north side, so we have sun in all the rooms. 
 Except for the size it is a splendid house for my 
 purpose ; and as for size, why I could not afford 
 to maintain a larger Bureau these first years. 
 Now come up to the second floor. This front 
 room is to be our sitting-room, next is my room, 
 and the back room is for Uncle Josiah. Up 
 stairs again now. This front room shall have a 
 double bed and one single bed in it ; these other 
 two rooms a double bed each, and the hall you 
 see is square at the back and has a good win- 
 dow ; I shall put a sewing-machine, two chairs, 
 and a divan made of a box to hold sewing, and it 
 shall be a place for the girls to do their own 
 making and mending. I can accommodate seven 
 well girls and two semi-invalids. A small begin- 
 ning, but enough to test the experiment." 
 
 " And what girls shall live here, and why ?" 
 " Just girls who are out of work, homeless, 
 
 Mr. OrocTenor'i Daughter. 2 1
 
 322 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and have no money to pay for bread. When 
 they are provided for, they shall go and leave 
 .room for others. They must between them do 
 the work of the Bureau, and they must conform 
 to its rules, which shall be the very fewest possi- 
 ble. I do n't mean to help girls to be idle or 
 lawless, but to help them to be self-supporting, 
 self-respecting, and well-respected. As I must 
 keep my place as forewoman, I fancy Agnes 
 will have the heavy end of the business to attend 
 to, but you wont mind that, will you, Agnes ? 
 You are strong, and it is the kind of helping 
 work that you love. You will be completely 
 happy if you get a pair of invalids under your 
 control to pamper and cosset and make them 
 take herb-teas and rubbing, eh !" 
 
 " Ay, child, you know what I like. I winna 
 min* the work. It is a true proverb, 'A dog 
 winna growl if you fill him wi' a bone.' The 
 girls to tak' tent o' will be my bone." 
 
 " And you know so well how to advise girls 
 and to take care of them ; you are such a nurse, 
 Agnes !" 
 
 " Ay, ' every man at forty is either a fool or 
 a physician.' It wad speak ill for my observa- 
 tion an* I could not tell a few lassies what was 
 for their guid," replied Agnes, highly flattered. 
 
 Two weeks after this inspection of the house 
 all was furnished and ready for possession.
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 323 
 
 Jacqueline, Deborah, Mary Field, and Hannah 
 Lane, were running from basement to third 
 story, inspecting everything, merry and voluble 
 as a bevy of girls just let loose from a boarding- 
 school. 
 
 These girls, all of whom had during all their 
 lives enjoyed more than a competence, Deborah, 
 who had floated on a sea of golden luxuries, 
 were in raptures over this home, so rigidly plain 
 in its appointments ! Was there ever such a 
 nice range just as good as new, if bought at 
 second-hand! Such a convenient refrigerator, 
 and so cheap, because the outside had been 
 marred by being carried out from the warehouse 
 through a fire ! " Even fires do some folks 
 good," cried Hannah. The deal table was large, 
 snow white, spick and span new, the three yel- 
 low chairs were the most admirable yellow 
 chairs ever sold at fifty cents each. Two roller- 
 towels, a big wash-bowl, a row of hooks ! How 
 the tin-pans shone ! " And the cooking utensils, 
 disposed on an open shelf where they will get 
 plenty of air and exhibit always their state of 
 cleanliness, look so housekeeperly," said Jacque- 
 line. The dining-room had a painted floor, a 
 long pine table covered with a brown linen 
 cloth, twelve chairs at fifty cents each, and an 
 arm-chair for Uncle Josiah. There was a side- 
 table with a pretty scarf; over the two front
 
 324 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 windows was trained a parlor ivy, and in one 
 of the side windows stood three pots of gerani- 
 ums in bloom. 
 
 O dining-room of the house of Dives, where 
 the walls were painted by an artist imported 
 from Italy, the furniture was the richest that 
 could be had, the side-board was loaded with 
 plate and cut glass, all the linen was embroi- 
 dered with a monogram, and long mirrors made 
 the vista of aviary and conservatory that opened 
 from one end of the room seem endless ! 
 
 Dives' daughters found this little dining-room 
 in the Working Women's delightful, even with 
 such gorgeous halls of banquet in their mem- 
 ories! 
 
 " Three bath-rooms ! how nice !" cried Mary 
 Field, " and I see this one is for yourself, 
 Deborah ; that is a good idea ; we have found 
 it so in our Settlement ; humoring some of our 
 little personal notions of taste will do more 
 than indulgence in luxuries to keep up our 
 health and courage while we do this work." 
 
 Then the office was admired : a desk, a little 
 rocking-chair for Deborah, a large easy-chair for 
 Agnes, a table, a couple of shelves of books, 
 some chairs, a work-basket, a City Directory, 
 Postal Directory, a Dictionary, a Bible, on the 
 table, a grate with an open fire. 
 
 " That 's for good ventilation," said Deborah ;
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 32$ 
 
 " if Agnes Is to sit here all day, she must have 
 it as healthful and comfortable as possible." 
 
 The sitting-room had muslin curtains, a large 
 rug, a Franklin stove, a corner book-case, a few 
 pictures, a bracket with a Rogers statuette upon 
 it, some stools which Deborah had made from 
 little boxes and upholstery cloth, a table with a 
 handsome cover. Most of these things Uncle 
 Josiah had brought as the last relics from the 
 wreck of the house of Dives. 
 
 Deborah's room was white, simple, pretty, 
 and when she opened it she herself exclaimed 
 with surprise, for Leila had sent her a beautiful 
 wash-stand set, a quilt of silk and down for the 
 bed, mull curtains and shams, and a delightful 
 chair, converting the plainness of the room to 
 real beauty. " Beside my elegant room," said 
 Deborah, laughing, as she threw open the next 
 door, " Uncle Josiah 's looks very plain." 
 
 "Iron camp bedstead, rug, two camp-chairs, 
 wash-stand, bureau, table," inventoried Han- 
 nah; " he is no worse off than the late King of 
 Prussia. If I remember rightly his Majesty did 
 not have so much in his bed-room." 
 
 "At all events it is just as Uncle Josiah 
 wants to have it." 
 
 The stairs and the hall floors were bare, 
 stained and varnished ; the rooms for the girls 
 had window-shades, iron bedsteads with knotted
 
 326 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 blue counterpanes, each a wash-stand with three 
 large drawers, bureau-fashion, a table and look- 
 ing-glass, and three chairs. Simple, even bare, 
 but airy, sunny, and spotlessly clean, and com- 
 fortably warmed in cold weather by the furnace 
 which heated halls and stairways. 
 
 Finally "the hospital" room with its two 
 single beds, its rugs and pretty pictures and 
 flowered muslin curtains, was visited. 
 
 " I wanted this to be pretty," said Deborah, 
 " so, as I had to have the walls kalsomined for 
 health's sake, I had a border of roses put around 
 the top and a centre oval of roses in the ceiling, 
 and used this flowered scrim for draperies. I 
 think it looks really cheerful and refreshing. 
 Leila sent me this pair of pretty vases, and this 
 pair of engravings ' Mercy at the Wicket 
 Gate,' and ' Pilgrim talking to Faith, Hope, and 
 Charity.' Sick people need pretty things to 
 cheer them. All our dishes are the commonest 
 white stone ware, but I bought a few with pink 
 flowers and edges, to send up here for the sick 
 ones. The girls who are worn out and out of 
 work are so low-spirited, poor souls, they need 
 something to divert their minds and entertain 
 them." 
 
 "She thinks of everything, my Miss Debo- 
 rah," said Agnes, who stood with beaming face 
 behind the inspecting group. " She is her grand-
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 327 
 
 mither o 'er again, and I always said it. Come 
 and see what a nice sntig room she has made 
 for an old body like me. She knew well I did- 
 na care for new fangled notions like scarfs and 
 posies, but it is all snug and convenient, with 
 my work-bag and my Bible handy, and a stool 
 for my feet, and a bureau wi' boxes, so I can 
 keep the bit things I loe best." 
 
 " It is all complete, and done on so little 
 money !" cried Mary. 
 
 " Deborah, you are an organizing genius ; 
 you should have control of large funds and ad- 
 minister a great work." 
 
 " If she should, she would," said Uncle Jo- 
 siah ; " if the Lord saw that she was the one 
 for such a place, she would have the place." 
 
 " The Lord saw that I was an unprofitable 
 steward," said Deborah ; "I hid my Lord's 
 money, never put it to any use, and so he finally 
 took it away. If I have this ability for service, 
 it is all the more pity that I did not use it when 
 I might." 
 
 " If you had it, it was only as seed ; it needed 
 the sun and rain of circumstance to develop it. 
 The wind beats the trees and the plants, and we 
 think it will destroy them, but lo, it is only un- 
 rolling the leaves, not stripping them off." 
 
 They had all gone up to the sitting-room, 
 and Uncle Josiah, leaning back in the large
 
 328 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 easy-chair that had once served his brother 
 Dives, talked as he loved to talk. " My dear 
 girls, to-morrow you will see the churches full of 
 flowers ; if you should go out into the country 
 you would see the grass starred with dande- 
 lions, hawks-weed, blue violets, hyacinths, anem- 
 ones, phlox, spring beauties, millions of flowers, 
 so that every roadside and pasture seems like a 
 garden. This is the slow result of winter frost 
 and showers! So God makes some barren 
 hearts soft and fruitful with the frosts of pov- 
 erty and the showers of sorrow, that they may 
 bloom for his delight. Look at Deborah ! I am 
 afraid that, though she is now popular, once you 
 used to call her ' proud Miss Grosvenor,' ' cold 
 Miss Grosvenor,' even ' disagreeable Miss Gros- 
 venor.' " 
 
 Jacqueline burst into a merry laugh, and 
 throwing her arms around her friend said, 
 " Deborah ! I confess that is just what I did 
 call you ! Say that you forgive me, dear !" 
 
 Deborah gave one of her rare, brilliant 
 smiles. " I was so lazy, bored, indifferent, that 
 you should have called me ' that detestable Miss 
 Grosvenor !'" 
 
 "Tell us, Deborah, what are your lines of 
 work here," said Mary. 
 
 " I shall make friends with the press, and en- 
 list the papers in defence of my working-girls.
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 329 
 
 I shall bring worn-out shop-girls, or feeble con- 
 valescents just out of hospital, here for nurse to 
 coddle. I want you all to spread the new/* 
 among your friends that sewing-girls and nurse 
 maids, possibly a nursery governess or so, welv 
 recommended and investigated, may be found 
 here. Girls thrown out of work penniless shall 
 have refuge here and be helped to places ; wo- 
 men robbed nefariously of furniture, sewing- 
 machines, wages, may bring their cases here to 
 be investigated and a just settlement be ob- 
 tained. One thing I am resolved upon : I myself, 
 my former wealth, friends, and position, shall 
 not be talked about and published about in this 
 connection. My work, my time, my little 
 money, myself, I give here, but the privacy of 
 my individuality I mean to have respected. I 
 do n't want to be a nine days' wonder, in default 
 of something else for the public to talk about." 
 
 " Miss Deborah," said Nurse Jamieson, pull- 
 ing her young lady's sleeve, " what time is for 
 the tea-party the night ?" 
 
 " Seven," said Deborah. 
 
 " What fashionable company are you going 
 to have at that hour?" demanded Hannah 
 Lane. 
 
 "Working women who work until six and 
 must have time to go home and put on their 
 best array. Three girls are to come here, one
 
 330 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 from a hospital and two who are out of places : 
 they will begin our family, and that our table 
 may be full for a housewarming, I have invited 
 Jean, Martha, Bella, Nan, Mrs. Hodge and her 
 niece, Oliver and two other boys, to come to sup- 
 per, a royal spread of Nurse Jamieson's rolls, 
 boiled corn-beef, ginger-bread, apple-sauce, and 
 pickles. We shall not be so lavish usually, but 
 this is ' infair-day,' as Agnes calls it. After the 
 supper and some talk and singing I am to 
 read them a story, and then Uncle Josiah will 
 have prayers and send them off by ten. Did 
 you observe that I had a lovely pot of ferns on 
 the middle of the dining table ? Leila sent that 
 for my party." 
 
 "That boy Oliver is becoming a very pre- 
 sentable lad under your administration," said 
 Mary Field ; "he has a good physique, a pair of 
 honest eyes and a friendly smile ; he carries him- 
 self like a self-respecting fellow. You 've made 
 a man of him." 
 
 " Next year he is to be promoted to be a fore- 
 man of the packing room, and get four hundred 
 dollars a year," said Deborah. " He is planning 
 to find a little three or four room house out in 
 the suburbs, where his mother can find work 
 for neighboring families and his little half- 
 brother can be brought up free from the dangers 
 of sidewalk-schools in the city. If his aunt
 
 THE FAIR FABRIC. 331 
 
 Hodge cannot find housework near their new 
 home she will come in to the rubber-factory 
 when Oliver comes to his work. She gets five 
 dollars and a half a week." 
 
 " Leaves her three seventy-five when her car- 
 fare is paid," said Mary. 
 
 "Yes, but count quiet and fresh air some- 
 thing," said Deborah.
 
 332 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 
 
 " The old order changeth, giving place to new, 
 And God fulfils himself in many ways, 
 Lest one good custom should corrupt the world." 
 
 " FIVE hundred a year, and the housework 
 done by the girls ; this would not support the 
 Bureau, with its family of ten or twelve, even if 
 they were fed with the utmost plainness," said 
 Uncle Josiah to himself. " What will she do 
 about it ?" 
 
 He did not suggest the problem to Deborah ; 
 he waited and left her to take her own way 
 about it, watching as one who watches a crucial 
 experiment in a laboratory. Deborah also had 
 seen the need of additional income for her 
 Bureau. 
 
 " The girls who live in the house should work 
 for their maintenance," she said to Jacqueline, 
 " and seven of them, or nine if you count two in 
 the hospital room, who are generally well enough 
 to do something, can get through with our plain 
 housework with about two hours' work a day, or 
 even less. Given then an hour and a half each 
 daily for their own washing, making, and mend-
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 333 
 
 ing, with the evening free for recreation or 
 classes, they should each give three or four hours 
 to some kind of income-bringing work. This 
 also will give them a habit of independence 
 and show them some fresh avenues of self-sup- 
 port." 
 
 But at first Deborah found that getting 
 work to be done at her Bureau was not easy. 
 She was at once regarded as a " middle man," 
 and all the "sweaters" leagued against her: 
 where factories would give home-work to one or 
 two, as soon as work for seven or eight was men- 
 tioned a new factory was suspected, and " We 
 keep our work for our own hands," was the 
 answer made to her. She came too upon un- 
 expected obstacles in this search for "home 
 work." 
 
 She applied at a small establishment where 
 seven or eight knitting-machines were constant- 
 ly turning out stockings and underwear. All ar- 
 ticles that came from the machines must be care- 
 fully looked over, dropped stitches taken up, 
 buttons and button-holes provided, and buckles 
 put on. This finishing work, ill paid as she 
 knew it must be, would yet be a help in earning 
 the home income. 
 
 But Deborah was told that there was no 
 work to give out, and one of the women who 
 superintended the others, and also ran a knit-
 
 334 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ting-machine, explained it to her as they walked 
 away from the establishment. This was Stella 
 whom Deborah had known in the rubber-goods 
 factory, and as Deborah had gone to the knit- 
 goods establishment about six in the afternoon, 
 when her own work at Rendel Brothers was 
 over, she and Stella walked away together. 
 
 " You see it is this way," said Stella. " The 
 owners of this place are not rich, and the girls 
 who are their relations and acquaintances are 
 not rich. They live at home and are supported 
 comfortably by their friends ; but if one of them 
 wanted a watch or a pair of bracelets or a 
 guitar or a handsome satin dress, why it is be- 
 yond the means of her friends, and so she earns 
 it, and her way is to take our goods and finish 
 them. Every bit of our finishing is done by 
 girls who are in comfortable circumstances, and 
 who earn money only for ornaments or luxuries. 
 I know one young lady who said in the shop 
 that she had bought a fifty-dollar gold chain 
 with her earnings for nearly a year ; and another 
 is saving to get sixty dollars for ear-rings. An- 
 other bought finger-rings." 
 
 " How absurd !" cried Deborah. 
 
 " And it takes away work that poor women 
 who stay at home with babies are in desperate 
 need of." 
 
 " And yet what can be done about it ? If
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 335 
 
 these girls choose to do the work they have a 
 right to ask for it, and the employers have a 
 right to give it to them ; and the use made of 
 the money is not a matter in question. An em- 
 ployer cannot ask, ' Are you going to pay your 
 rent or feed your children or buy ear-rings with 
 these wages ?' " 
 
 " I suppose not," said Stella, who was a very 
 intelligent woman. "Yet these girls who do 
 not need to pay rent or buy bread or shoes, 
 who can save and can afford to wait for the 
 money for unnecessaries, take work at lower 
 figures than the rest of us can, and so they lower 
 the rate of wages. They can earn two and a 
 half or three dollars a week, and at the end of a 
 month they will have ten or twelve dollars in 
 hand. We must get our four fifty or five a week ; 
 and scrape and save as best we may, at the 
 end of the month we are well off if we have a 
 dollar in hand. Their friends help them ; we 
 have to help support our friends, and it makes 
 a heap of difference. I do n't see how it can be 
 helped, but it is hard." 
 
 Deborah explained why she wanted this work 
 and asked Stella to come over to the Bureau and 
 take tea and see what was going on there. As 
 they went towards Bell Street, Stella suggested 
 that Deborah might get the bags of a certain 
 flour-mill to mend, and perhaps to make. " Only
 
 336 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 you would need a single-threaded machine that 
 carries a thread like string," she said. 
 
 " I do not think. I had better buy a machine 
 just for that. I need income at once, not further 
 outlay." 
 
 "You can mend the bags on the machine 
 that you have with the coarsest thread and 
 needle that it will carry. And I think your uncle 
 could get you the contract. Then why don't 
 you try the express and freight tag business ?" 
 
 " Firstly, because I never heard of it." 
 
 " You know those oblong tickets of thin brown 
 paste-board, with two corners clipped off, that are 
 used to tag freight and express parcels ? Millions 
 of them are used each year. They are stamped 
 out by machinery, and put in packets of one or 
 two hundred. Then they must have the rivet 
 or eyelet-hole punched in and eyeletted, and a 
 piece of string knotted through the eyelet. Tags, 
 eyelets, and string are sent you. Your capital 
 must be one shoe -maker's eyelet -punch for 
 each two workers one girl eyelets, one ties. 
 The pay is small, but it is quite easy work, and 
 your girls could do a good many. But in that, 
 Miss Grosvenor, as in all the rest that is capable 
 of being made decent home-work, you '11 find the 
 competition strong from girls who are comfort- 
 ably off and are only earning luxuries or pocket 
 money."
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 337 
 
 After Stella had taken tea at the Bureau 
 and had examined everything, she said to Deb- 
 orah, "It is a splendid idea : in the end it will 
 prove to be just what we need, and you will 
 be thanked and praised. But at first be sure 
 you will be suspected and blamed." 
 
 " For what, of what ?" demanded Deborah. 
 
 " As soon as the girls find they are doing a 
 little work, no matter how little it is, for which 
 the Bureau gets the pay, they will begin to 
 shout ' slave labor,' ' apprentice work,' ' grinding 
 down,' and so on. They will not think board, 
 fuel, rent, lights, health, baths, laundry, worth a 
 dollar a week, but every dozen of tags or mill- 
 bags done for you will seem to be worth at least 
 fifty cents. They will be miserably ungrateful, 
 because they have been brought up in a hard 
 way without any exercise of gratitude. Then 
 too the priests and the Sisters will no doubt 
 raise a cry of ' proselyting.' 
 
 " Some of them will see that the work is good 
 and will silently appreciate it. But many of 
 them will think that the religious life of your 
 Bureau, your blessing at table, family prayers, 
 Bible - classes, evening instruction, will lessen 
 the faith of their members who fall into your 
 hands, and they will oppose you. More than 
 that, they may suspect that business people 
 and charitable people will like your Bureau, 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor's Daughter. 22
 
 338 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 substantially like it in money, groceries, and dry- 
 goods, and that all this will be so much less for 
 the Sisters making quest ; so they will spread 
 ugly reports about you." 
 
 " I shall make friends with the newspapers 
 and the police." 
 
 " That will be all right. But the poor folks 
 around you, the girls, will not see the papers ; they 
 will be more or less affected by this whispered 
 scandal and criticism. It is easy for human 
 nature to take stock in evil reports ; we are slow 
 to use our own observation, it is so easy to pick 
 up a ' they say.' ' 
 
 " I see. I shall have some opposition I did 
 not count on. Excuse me, Stella. I did not 
 know you very well at the rubber-goods place, 
 and I did not know that you were an educated 
 girl as your language shows that you are." 
 
 " I graduated at a high-school and had a 
 year at a Normal-school. I was once a nursery 
 governess. I married young ; my husband was 
 captain of a coasting schooner. He was drowned. 
 Fifteen hundred dollars came to me finally from 
 his insurances, but I made up my mind to 
 educate our little son out of that and give him a 
 good trade as he should choose. He is a very 
 bright boy now and nine years old. My sister is 
 married to a barber, and my boy and I board 
 with her and she takes care of him while I work.
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 339 
 
 I send him into the country to some friends 
 every vacation. 
 
 " After the rubber-factory proved dangerous 
 to my health I succeeded in finding this knit- 
 ting establishment. By being very careful I 
 make four dollars and a half a week, and my 
 little interest does for the two of us." 
 
 " I hope your boy will grow up to be a noble 
 Christian man, and repay you for all this love 
 and sacrifice." 
 
 " I am sure he will : I keep my courage up by 
 planning for a quiet happy old age, nursing my 
 grandchildren in his home," said Stella with a 
 bright smile. " Now I think of it, suppose you 
 try to get jackets to finish from a Cardigan 
 jacket factory. Any one can do that." 
 
 Finally, between bags, tags, and jackets, Deb- 
 orah secured an income of about ten dollars a 
 week for her Bureau, as the result of two hun- 
 dred hours' work, at about five cents an hour, and 
 this was very munificent wages, and only 
 secured by piece - work in such conditions of 
 rooms, good air, light, tools, as the workers 
 could never get in their own homes. Especially 
 was the rapidity of work a result of the trained 
 brains of Uncle Josiah and Deborah, showing 
 the girls how to work together helpfully, and 
 securing a new kind of work as soon as some 
 other kind had failed.
 
 34Q MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 Five cents an hour ! Who could complain of 
 such wages ! The earner of five cents an hour 
 must be simply rolling in the lap of luxury ! 
 Five cents an hour yielded fifty cents a day 
 for ten hours' work, or sixty cents for twelve 
 hours. Fourteen hours of daily work will at 
 this rate yield four dollars and twenty cents a 
 week ! When a woman has only seventy-five 
 cents a week to pay for rent, forty cents a week 
 for light and fuel for her long hours' work, if 
 she spends on her food fifteen cents a day, she 
 can have a dollar ninety cents a week for clothes 
 and shoes, for lost time and sickness. 
 
 Fifteen cents a day for food is a short al- 
 lowance, and admits of but little use of meat, 
 butter, or fruit. When we consider that the 
 women who are reduced to living upon this 
 small amount do not as a general thing under- 
 stand the relative values of food-stuffs, and have 
 neither the knowledge nor the appliances of 
 judicious, healthful preparation of plain food, 
 the problem becomes still more distressing. 
 
 Thirty-seven lost working-days in a year are 
 a heavy item. The kitchen servant in general 
 loses more, but the conditions of her life as to 
 exercise, rest, food, warmth, sleep, and ventila- 
 tion are very much better than those of the fac- 
 tory girls or wage-earners of that class. 
 
 Besides there are many days of enforced idle-
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR, 341 
 
 ness, there are the well-known " slack seasons." 
 " No work to-day," " Only half work this week," 
 " Can't afford over half pay this month," " Mark- 
 et glutted " these are remarks that often greet 
 the working woman as she goes for her share of 
 work. 
 
 Did Eve ever dream as she stood listening 
 to that curse of labor and sweat falling upon 
 Adam, that the heaviest half of it was likely to 
 be heired by her daughters, and that as the 
 ages went by these same daughters should be 
 holding out imploring hands for the share of 
 the curse, and weeping miserably when it was 
 denied ? If the first mother had with prophetic 
 soul divined all that, how would she have marvel- 
 led at the strangeness of her children's destiny ! 
 
 In her Bureau Deborah met all the antag- 
 onism that Stella had foretold to her. She 
 found also the silent antagonism of neglect. 
 Plenty of people were told of the Bureau, and 
 asked to further its plans by going there if they 
 needed to secure work done. And by-and-by 
 when asked if they had done their little to aid 
 in the way of patronage, the answer would be, 
 " Oh, we quite forgot it !" " Bell Street is so 
 out of the way." "We lost the address you 
 wrote for us-." " We are so in the habit of 
 going to the shops, and to the other intelligence 
 offices." " Yes ; but you see it would be so trou-
 
 342 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 blesome to have sewing done in the house. It is 
 much easier just to go and buy the things ready 
 made, and really cheaper." 
 
 Cheaper ! Yes, that is it. Cheaper ! Oh 
 Moloch of the age ! Then how often was Deb- 
 orah disappointed in the girls themselves. Some 
 came to her protesting even with tears their pov- 
 erty, lack of home, of friends, of work. They 
 would do anything, take anything. But put to 
 the proof, "Would they go out to service?" 
 "No! Not for any wages. They were inde- 
 pendent : they would not have a mistress over 
 them." 
 
 Then those who with meek faces and ready 
 assent would receive moral advice, warnings 
 against bad books, bad men of their acquaintance, 
 and loose bold ways, would with perhaps a little 
 more slyness continue their objectionable meth- 
 ods. Lying and hypocrisy were so common 
 among them, and those were faults very detesta- 
 ble to a woman of Deborah's frank courageous 
 nature. The duplicity of many of her prote'ge'es 
 made her heart-sick. 
 
 " But what would you have ?" said Uncle 
 Josiah. " They have been reared in deceitful- 
 ness from infancy ; their parents before them 
 lived in conditions fitted to nourish the faults of 
 hypocrisy and double dealing. Weeds grow in 
 uncultivated ground, but garden flowers do not,
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 343 
 
 and if they spring in waste places they speed- 
 ily dwindle and degrade. Do n't ask too much 
 virtue ; be thankful to find the few sturdy vir- 
 tues that there are among these girls. Most of 
 them are generous, faithful to each other piti- 
 ful to the suffering, courageous, hopeful, in- 
 dustrious. Go and help them up : do n't com- 
 plain because they are not already up. Be glad 
 of what you can get at present." 
 
 " It is true, my dearie," said Nurse Agnes, 
 when she saw Deborah discouraged and mourn- 
 ful, "it is true that there is mickle ill in the 
 warl', an' it crops out pretty plain hereabout. 
 This hoose ye hae opened has drawn intil it 
 some who are no' worthy, an' the worthy are too 
 shamefaced to come. When I was a lass I 
 heard this proverb, ' Fiddlers' dogs an' flees 
 comes to a feast uncalled.' But ne'er grow 
 weary o' spreadin' the feast for a' that. 
 
 " By-and-by ye will learn to discern between 
 those that you should help and those that do 
 not really need the help. Do not be discour- 
 aged because these lassies ha' never been taught 
 that it is ' aye weel to be the same thing that 
 ye would be called.' One by one ye will fin' 
 the Lord jewels i' the mire and gaither them 
 out for his crown ; and they will be your crown 
 o' rejoicing too in that great day." 
 
 "You find some troublesome ones and some
 
 344 MR- GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 naughty ones," said Uncle Josiah ; " but think 
 of the good ones. Think of little Mrs. Howe. 
 Is not she worth knowing ?" 
 
 Deborah smiled. Dear little Mrs. Howe ! 
 They had dubbed her the "Good Samaritan," 
 a brisk, withered hale old woman, living on a 
 pension of twelve dollars a month. She also 
 had been rent-free from the landlord of her 
 house, who said she was " worth as much to him 
 as two Bible women and a policeman," so did 
 she maintain the peace and show how to eke 
 out income, so did she succeed in keeping peo- 
 ple in work and in heart showing the best way 
 of doing things, nursing the sick, tending the 
 children, going about doing good from morning 
 until night. " She has stopped four or five 
 epidemics by her good sense. She is worth a 
 whole Board of Health," said the district doctor. 
 
 Thirty years of active self-sacrificing toil 
 had endeared the brisk little old lady to all her 
 neighborhood. There were wives and mothers 
 there whom she had nursed as children. Even 
 in that shifting population she had seen men 
 and women grow up from childhood or stoop 
 from middle life to age. How had this living 
 Christian commended Christianity ! 
 
 Deborah felt as if a strong helper had come 
 to her the first time that Mrs. Howe crossed her 
 threshold. What a close friendship she and
 
 THROUGH HONOR AND DISHONOR. 34$ 
 
 Nurse Jamieson struck up, as they sat for hours 
 discussing how this one should be helped toward 
 good, and that one hindered from evil, and how 
 by-and by the work here should all be ended, 
 and the city of the King reached with rejoicing. 
 
 And so the days went on, in hope and dis- 
 appointment, in much seed-sowing and some 
 little reaping, in an increasing triumph over the 
 first difficulties of the position ; and now Deb- 
 orah's Bureau had been open for a year, and 
 she and her work were becoming better under- 
 stood. 
 
 What had this ward gained since first Deb- 
 orah became one of its swarming inhabitants ? 
 There was a factory conducted on liberal prin- 
 ciples, trying in every way to benefit the em- 
 ploy ^es ; there was a Day Nursery, the Set- 
 tlement, and the Working Women's Bureau. 
 Were all these instrumentalities doing any good ? 
 Was the ward improving ? The policemen, the 
 police sergeants, were the ones to ask. They 
 said arrests had diminished one-fourth, property 
 value had increased, the death-rate had remark- 
 ably decreased. Finally, they wished every 
 ward in the city was thus moving on the up- 
 grade.
 
 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 
 
 " She knew not if beneath the boughs they woke, 
 Or dropped upon her from the realms above. 
 ' What wilt thou, woman !' in the dream he spoke ; 
 ' Thy sorrow moveth me, thyself I love. 
 Long have I counted up thy mournful years, 
 Once I did weep to wipe away thy tears.' " 
 
 THE columns of the city papers must be 
 kept full. When exciting political campaigns 
 are in progress, when wars and rumors of wars 
 fill the air, easy is the task of the editor. He has 
 only to take what pleases him best of the crowd- 
 ing news which our Athenians of the nineteenth 
 century love to hear ; but when the " whole earth 
 is at rest and keepeth quiet," then is every nook 
 and corner of the metropolis searched for an 
 item, and great is the joy of the reporter at find- 
 ing something new under the sun and exquisite 
 is his elaboration of every small theme. 
 
 The first year of Deborah's experiment with 
 her Bureau was the year of an exciting Presi- 
 dential contest, and no news but party news was 
 sought after. The humble effort for the benefit 
 of working-girls was ignored or put in diamond 
 type in a corner. But when the next year came,
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 347 
 
 Uncle Josiah met at the Seamen's Bethel a 
 young reporter who devoted himself especially 
 to the gathering of items concerning religious 
 and philanthropic work. Having met him a few 
 times in temperance gatherings, Uncle Josiah 
 unfolded to him the plan of the Bureau and in- 
 vited him to visit it. The reporter came and 
 was at once an enthusiastic admirer of Deborah 
 and her work, of the Settlement, and of Leila's 
 Day Nursery. Possessing a facile pen, he wrote 
 up these matters attractively, and so the press, 
 that great angel flying between heaven and 
 earth, arrived to the aid of Deborah's plans. 
 
 The very first extended article on the Bureau 
 came under the eye of a pastor just called to 
 one of the large churches of the city, a man in- 
 tensely interested in work for the working peo- 
 ple. He came promptly to see the Bureau, and 
 lo he had been in his youth well acquainted with 
 Uncle Josiah, in whose native place he had at- 
 tended school. In those days Uncle Josiah 's 
 library and pretty little home had been open to 
 David MacMay, and now Dr. David MacMay 
 was glad to renew the old-time friendship. 
 Speedily the two were very intimate and in fre- 
 quent conference. Dr. MacMay made known 
 the Bureau work to the ladies of his flock ; car- 
 riages now appeared before the door of the Bu- 
 reau ; it was easy to find places for the women
 
 348 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 who were applying for work in increasing num- 
 bers ; seamstress and laundress work was se- 
 cured through the Bureau, nurses, typewriters, 
 cooks, and maids were called for ; the flour-bags 
 and tags disappeared, and sewing and mending 
 at far better prices came in their room. The 
 new friends suggested new methods of earning 
 money and new kinds of work for workers. 
 Kindly hearts thought to send some of Debo- 
 rah's invalids or tired-out ones into the country 
 for some time ; some were taken into city homes 
 for a resting season. 
 
 Deborah, Agnes, Uncle Josiah, and some peo- 
 ple outside of the Bureau who received its ad- 
 vantages, but did not live in its family, had 
 helped to eke out that work at five cents an 
 hour, which had kept the Bureau going. Such 
 intense efforts were now not needed ; the work 
 was paid for at nine or ten cents an hour. 
 
 Another advantage grew out of this new 
 acquaintance. Mrs. Howe and Nurse Agnes 
 had heard frequently of pitiable cases of suffer- 
 ing, and went among the aged, orphans, or hope- 
 less invalids. There is little accommodation for 
 incurables in hospitals, while their need is so 
 great! How pitifully their years lengthen out 
 in poverty and discomfort, with the spectre of 
 the poorhouse rising before them, grimmer as 
 nearer day by day ! Our city poorhouses or
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 349 
 
 almsliouses are so architecturally splendid out- 
 side, so desolate, hard, and unhomelike within ! 
 Every city should have a large and well-ap- 
 pointed hospital for the incurables. The sudden 
 cases of accident or sickness may find the speedy 
 release of death, but the years stretch in a weary 
 vista for those who are too sick and miserable to 
 enjoy living, too tenacious of life to die. 
 
 Another need which Mrs. Howe much dwelt 
 upon was that of a Home for Aged Couples. 
 Old Men's Homes, Old Women's Homes, but 
 how few Homes for the aged pair who have to- 
 gether travelled the long and tiresome years 
 and borne the burden and heat of the day. 
 "What God hath joined together let not man 
 put asunder." Doubly endeared to each other 
 by the endurance of vicissitudes, by the mis- 
 eries lightened, the joys shared, why in decrepi- 
 tude should they be driven to separate wards in 
 the almshouse or left to starve in an attic ? Why 
 not rather put a premium on this married fealty 
 and affection and let the two, in a Home for 
 Aged Couples, share in peace life's slow decline ? 
 Here and there, in isolated cities, we have such 
 homes, but always insufficient to the need, and 
 then, O beloved, how much red tape and how 
 many puerile restrictions! In hospitals and 
 "homes," if anywhere, we should study the 
 golden rule, " to do as we would be done by."
 
 350 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 When such friends rose up around the Bu- 
 reau attention could be called to the destitute 
 aged couples, the chronic invalids, the sore and 
 pressing need of the helpless, as well as work 
 found for those able to work. 
 
 "The cities," said Dr. MacMay, "are the 
 great centres of civilization ; they are also the 
 headquarters of sorrow !" 
 
 These new friends afforded Deborah a golden 
 opportunity of making real a cherished dream 
 country visits for Jean, Martha, Bella, and some 
 others, girls who were not sick, who could ro- 
 bustly endure their crowded homes and their 
 lives of labor, but who mentally and spiritually 
 needed the broadening influence of change, of 
 getting close to nature. 
 
 " What, miss ! send me for a country visit for 
 a fortnight !" cried Jean. " Send a sick one ; I 
 can rough it." 
 
 " I want to put something better into your 
 life, Jean ; this will help bring childhood back. 
 You must go ; I 'm building large hopes on you 
 for the years to come when you have lived down 
 the old craving and the old experiences ; you 
 will be my right-hand woman and we will, 
 please God, work together many years. These 
 country visits, now and then, will help you to- 
 wards that." 
 
 " It 's true when I have had a word from OH-
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 351 
 
 ver, now and again, about the trees and the 
 green roadsides and the bit singing birds where 
 he lives, I Ve longed to go, as a child longs for 
 the lap o' its mother ; and Mrs. Hodge has asked 
 me to spend a Sunday there." 
 
 " I wonder they do n't all fly to the country 
 in a body," said Deborah to Dr. MacMay. 
 
 " If we could send back to the country those 
 who rashly leave its advantages, it would be one 
 of the best blessings we could confer upon them. 
 Some of them return thankfully ; some, ashamed, 
 discouraged, will not go ; some cannot go. But 
 there are many, born and grown in the city, to 
 whom going to the country is not 'return to 
 Eden,' but exile. They know none of its ways. 
 Moreover, if we emptied the city into the rural 
 districts, we should simply change the place and 
 keep the pain ; the penury of the city and its 
 vice would be transferred, not cured. It is not 
 every man who, given a hoe and a seed-pack- 
 age, can get his dinner from the ground." 
 
 " That is true," said Uncle Josiah, " and 
 there you touch on a fact that is ignored by 
 many of our philanthropic workers. It is as- 
 sumed that every child on the streets of the city 
 is pining for fresh air, flowers, green grass ; 
 that the greatest treat you can give such chil- 
 dren is to take them to the country and give 
 them milk. That is a great mistake. A curb-
 
 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 stone and a half-rotten banana are to some of 
 these city youngsters a much more desirable 
 treat than any amount of grass and milk. I 
 have seen some of these lean, half-fed gamins 
 taken from the slums to a farm and seized with 
 a wretched nostalgia for crowded tenements and 
 foul-smelling streets urbs is in the ascendant, 
 not rus. All children are not born with a yearn- 
 ing after cows, pigs, and chickens ; all girls do 
 not take cheerfully to milking and weeding, 
 the airy farmhouse kitchen, with wide reaches 
 of clover-field in bloom. They were born to the 
 clangor of bells, the crash of wheels, the whirr 
 of machinery. We must take people as we find 
 them, not as we fancy it is better they should 
 be. And we must help them, generally, where 
 they are. Moreover, we must provide ordinary, 
 feasible means of help. If we are not to catch 
 our larks until the sky falls, we shall not catch 
 any larks. Let us make our mud-pies with the 
 mud that is at hand ; we cannot send to the San 
 Juan Islands for fine clay, or to Trinidad for 
 asphalt, or to France for the delicate clay that 
 makes Sevres china." 
 
 Deborah laughed. " And must we make our 
 mud-pies ?" 
 
 " How many moulders of mud-pies have be- 
 come carvers of noble statuary, potters, making 
 vessels to honor ; builders of porcelain pagodas,
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 353 
 
 producers of finest china to rejoice the souls of 
 connoisseurs. Luca della Robbia and Palissy 
 the potter were no doubt early adepts in mud- 
 pies. How do we know to where our mud-pies 
 may grow ?" 
 
 " Which all means," said Deborah, " that by 
 simple methods, by organization, we must work 
 for the city in the city ; try to make better the 
 conditions of those whom the city holds and will 
 not let go." 
 
 "And you," said Dr. MacMay, " have touched, 
 I think, the right solution. The work should be 
 faithfully done ward by ward. Let us get on with 
 our ideal ward. Like Plato and his friends, we are 
 fashioning a Republic not for ourselves alone, it 
 may be a pattern for the world. We have pro- 
 vided bath-houses and summer and winter gar- 
 dens ; we have provided for the children. Let 
 us now provide for those who have reached a 
 working age. But first let us say that our prop- 
 erly-governed city shall have compulsory educa- 
 tion, and shall not allow child-labor. The streets 
 shall not be infested with young children, half- 
 clad, hungry-looking, and pitiful, to appeal to 
 public charity, while they ostensibly sell pencils, 
 flowers, and little patent articles." 
 
 " Right here," said Deborah, " let me tell you 
 an instance that I heard from Mrs. Howe. A 
 family had four small children, and these, from 
 
 Mr. Oro6vnor' Daughter. 23
 
 354 MR - GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 the time they reached the age of four or five, 
 were stationed in public places to run after pass- 
 ers-by and entreat them to buy small wares. 
 The poor babies won sympathy that often gave 
 a quarter for a five-cent article. The father 
 and mother had three rooms in a tenement- 
 house and lived luxuriously ; cream, Mocha cof- 
 fee, gilt-edged butter, porterhouse steaks, cake, 
 beer, whatever they wanted they got, for the 
 children brought in, together, about a hundred 
 dollars a month. The man, an expert brass 
 worker, was offered twenty-three dollars a week, 
 but would not take it ; he knew that the children 
 could earn as much as that for him, while he 
 lived in idleness." 
 
 "That is selling your own flesh and blood 
 with a vengeance," said Dr. MacMay, " and the 
 State as the greater parent should stand between 
 such monster parents and their offspring and 
 secure for the little ones childhood and educa- 
 tion. And now for our workers. We shall have 
 the Settlement to educate them to better aspira- 
 tions and the Bureau to bring, as you put it, 
 Miss Grosvenor, need and opportunity together. 
 And we shall have, in time, model factories and 
 business houses, giving to all men what is just 
 and equal, and having regard to the physical, 
 moral, and financial good of the workers. O hap- 
 py city in such a case !"
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 355 
 
 When the Bureau had been eighteen months 
 in operation, Uncle Josiah told Deborah that he 
 had received for it a donation of twenty thou- 
 sand dollars. They must secure the next house, 
 enlarge operations, and Deborah must give up 
 her place as forewoman for Rendel Brothers 
 and devote herself to extending and perfecting 
 her Bureau work. " I want to see what you can 
 do," said Uncle Josiah. 1) 
 
 Among the workers in the finishing-room 
 had been for some months a quiet, ladylike 
 young woman, with a sweet smile, who in a 
 silent, gentle way was a power for good among 
 the girls. She was a frequent guest at the Set- 
 tlement, and seemed cheerily to take every way 
 to ameliorate the unpleasantnesses of her posi- 
 tion and to make the best of herself and of her 
 life. She was an orphan ; her father had been a 
 country minister, and Deborah from her first ac- 
 quaintance had made common cause with her. 
 This young friend was now invited to be clerk 
 and book-keeper of the Bureau. " Learn all its 
 workings," said Uncle Josiah. " Some time it 
 may be left to your sole management." 
 
 " And what will become of Deborah ?" 
 
 "Who knows?" said Uncle Josiah with the 
 air of an oracle. 
 
 Winter passed, and when spring came Dr. 
 MacMay had a new plan on foot a sea-side
 
 356 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 home for some of the city workers. Nurse 
 Jamieson and Mrs. Howe were to go for a month 
 among the others. Deborah was going to spend 
 a month with Leila Stirling, to see the happiness 
 of Leila's shop-girl guests and to rejoice in the 
 growth and charms of the baby Linda, now a 
 merry chattering toddler, filling Leila with daily 
 delight. 
 
 " Let us go and find Mrs. Howe," said An- 
 drew MacMay to Deborah, "and arrange for 
 her to go with Agnes to the beach at once. I 
 thought the dear little old lady looked worn 
 when I saw her last." 
 
 Andrew MacMay was Dr. MacMay's younger 
 brother, an editor with philanthropic work for 
 his hobby. He was often at the Bureau, and 
 Deborah was sure of his interest in every widen- 
 ing scheme. They set out to find Mrs. Howe. 
 She was not at her room, but as they turned 
 down an adjacent street they heard a piping lit- 
 tle call, and there was Mrs. Howe breathlessly 
 trotting after them. There was no smile on her 
 pale, drawn face ; it was evident she was ill. 
 
 " I knew you were looking for me," she 
 panted ; " I have been all day with a sick person." 
 
 " It is easy to see that you are ill yourself," 
 said Deborah. " Come at once to the invalid 
 room at my Bureau, and let Agnes nurse you 
 until you can go with her to the beach."
 
 WIDENING PLANS. 357 
 
 It was but a little way, and Deborah and her 
 friend helped the weary little body along. 
 Nurse Agnes gave her a tonic and put her to 
 bed. Mr. MacMay remained at the Bureau, and 
 he and Uncle Josiah and Deborah had tea in the 
 sitting-room, served by a little girl whom Deb- 
 orah had taken to bring up. They often had 
 tea in that fashion, and enjoyed it much. After 
 tea Nurse Jamieson sent them word that Mrs. 
 Howe wanted to see them. She was propped up 
 against white pillows. 
 
 " I want to bid you good-by," she said, " for I 
 am going away ; I think I have a message from 
 the King. I have prayed to be allowed to work 
 as long as I lived, and then go speedily. The 
 Lord has not been unmindful of my request." 
 
 Then said Uncle Josiah, " ' Now while they 
 lay here, and waited for the good hour, there 
 was a noise in the town that there was a post 
 come from the Celestial City, with matter of 
 great importance to one Christiana, the wife of 
 Christian, the Pilgrim. So inquiry was made for 
 her, and the house was found out where she 
 was ; so the post presented her with the letter, 
 the contents whereof were, " Hail, good woman ! 
 I bring thee tidings that the Master calleth for 
 thee, and expecteth that thou shouldst stand in 
 his presence in clothes of immortality, within 
 ten days.'""
 
 358 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " It will be less than ten days, sir ; not ten 
 hours I make sure, for the pitcher is broken at 
 the fountain and the wheel is broken at the cis- 
 tern. My work is done, and I am going. Read 
 me the twenty - third Psalm, Mr. MacMay, 
 please." 
 
 He read it. A light, as from the land of 
 light, fell over the white hair and pallid face. 
 
 " It is good to work for God," she said. "It 
 brings no sorrow. I wish I had worked more. 
 You will work more and better. Good-by." 
 
 She closed her eyes, then presently looked 
 up again at Deborah and Mr. MacMay standing 
 near her. " Good-by. You will work more and 
 better and you will work together." 
 
 " God grant it !" said Mr. MacMay gently in 
 Deborah's ear. She did not look towards him 
 Her eyes were fixed on the aged face, settling 
 into the calm of death. 
 
 " After she looked, for this her dream was deep ; 
 She looked, and there was naught beneath the tree ; 
 Yet did her love and longing overleap 
 The fear of angels, awful as they be, 
 And she passed out between those blessed things 
 And brushed her mortal weeds against their wings."
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 359 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 
 
 " Oh that some power would give me Adam's eyes, 
 
 Oh for the straight simplicity of Eve ! 
 For I see naught, or grow, poor fool, too wise 
 With seeing to believe." 
 
 AFTER the heat and closeness of the city 
 nothing could be more delightful than the 
 change to the home of Leila Stirling. Honey- 
 suckles loaded the air with perfume ; there were 
 beds of pansies and verbenas in shady places ; 
 every week new and choice roses bloomed, and 
 a splendid procession of lilies kept pace with the 
 advancing season. A stream rippled under wil- 
 lows, swans sailed on a miniature lake, the un- 
 disturbed birds and squirrels frequented the 
 trees, while here and there, across the lawn, 
 hopping in security, might be seen the gray and 
 white of a wild rabbit. 
 
 Seated one evening on the veranda, beside 
 Leila's invalid's chair, Deborah watched the 
 beautiful shadows cast by the full moonlight on 
 the lawn : crickets chirred, shrill katydids called ; 
 the whippoorwill sounded its monotone from 
 the distant willows, and the frogs lent a hoarse 
 bassoon to the night music.
 
 360 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Deborah, what would you like best of all for 
 yourself, for your future life?" asked Leila. 
 " Build such a castle for the future as you would 
 like best to live in." 
 
 " That might not be wise occupation, even for 
 an hour," said Deborah ; " it might help to make 
 me discontented ; for my life all along the fu- 
 ture is sure, by my own choice, to be very differ- 
 ent from that which I should really desire, if it 
 were honestly and rightly possible." 
 
 " Then at least live that life for once, in a 
 dream," urged Leila, " and when I am thinking 
 of you as I often do, I can have that fresh avenue 
 for thought to travel what might be if it could. 
 Begin, my Deborah ! Sick folks must be hu- 
 mored." 
 
 Deborah laughed and yielded ; the charm of 
 her surroundings, the ease, the softness of the 
 moonlight, lured towards dreams. 
 
 " I would like to have what people I mean 
 most women most desire, a home an indi- 
 vidual, domestic home, not a Bureau or a Settle- 
 ment or a crowded house. I should like those to 
 visit, to aid, to help on, but I really would like 
 a home. That is God's ideal for the race, and 
 its loveliness has grown into my heart in these 
 five years since I lost my home. When I had a 
 home I was discontented and did not interest 
 myself in it. There was nothing left in it for
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 361 
 
 me to do, and so I did not care so much for it. 
 We had, I think, under my poor step-mother's 
 administration, no true domesticity. I should 
 like to create a home." 
 
 " Yes : and what kind of a home ?" 
 
 " Outside of the city, but near my work : a 
 home surrounded by trees, birds, flowers, green 
 fresh hedges, and soft sward. A home not so 
 expensive as this that has been left you, my 
 Leila, but commodious and beautiful, for I dear- 
 ly love beauty." 
 
 " Yes," said Leila again approvingly, " I un- 
 derstand, such a place as this Vinton property, 
 next to me. A gem of a place, and not dear. It 
 would just suit you, Deborah. Good water; 
 plenty of fruit ; lovely views ; good stable for 
 two horses : all modern conveniences. I read 
 the advertisement to-day. It is for sale, in ex- 
 cellent order." 
 
 " I am afraid it will stay long in Vinton 
 hands, if poor Deborah, who has nothing, must 
 be sole aspirant to its possession." 
 
 " Yes, no doubt. But go on, Deborah ; let us 
 imagine you did have just such a home, and in- 
 come to maintain it. Then ?" 
 
 "You understand, my dear, I should need 
 much more than income enough to maintain my 
 own home ; because if I fell back into my old 
 style of consuming all that I possess upon my-
 
 362 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 self, I should soon be the idle, discontented, selfish 
 Deborah, useless and careless, that I once was. 
 How much greater would be my blame now, 
 because I have learned how great is the cry of 
 human need and how blessed it is to answer it ! 
 I have been ' in Eden, the garden of God,' in 
 point of opportunity. If I were to have a well- 
 appointed home, and live in it, then I must have 
 an income more than double enough for the 
 moderate and just needs of that home, so that I 
 could carry on my work for workers. I must be 
 able ' to stretch forth my hands to the poor, yea, 
 to reach forth my hands to the needy.' I must 
 be able ' to entertain strangers.' My handmaids 
 to whom I give work, my household who are 
 clothed in scarlet, my maids who have their por- 
 tion, must be all my needy working sisters. 
 'Whoso putteth his hand to the plough and 
 looketh back is not fit for the kingdom of God.' " 
 
 " Then you must have a husband like-minded 
 with yourself." 
 
 " Yes ; but you see clearly that I could never 
 say to any man, ' Here is a work that I have 
 chosen, a work given to me to do ; take it now 
 and do it ; dedicate all that you have to it.' Be- 
 cause every one must do his own work, and that 
 would be to merge my call to work in the work 
 of another, also called to serve." 
 
 "And so?"
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 363 
 
 " So, as I am not rich, and cannot dedicate an 
 income and my superintendence to such work 
 as I am doing in the city, I must give myself, 
 my personal work, to it instead." 
 
 " But if that is every one's duty, where will 
 be the homes ?" 
 
 " Clearly it is not every one's duty, but it is 
 mine. Most girls have not, with my opportuni- 
 ties of education, served such an apprenticeship 
 to poverty as I have. Few began by being so 
 idle and selfish, by such a miserable misuse of 
 large means. I see it is in me to be such a self- 
 server that I should not dare to live as others 
 do, giving only a little time, thought, or income 
 to philanthropic work. I should relapse to what 
 I was and what I hate. My soul has been too 
 deeply stirred to permit me to risk that selfish 
 life again. I am content now that God shall 
 take my service and use me as he will." 
 
 "That means that you would follow every 
 clear indication of Providence ?" 
 
 " I hope so, whether pleasant or painful. Do 
 you not see that God, by the way in which he 
 has prospered me, has set the seal of his appro- 
 val on my work ?" 
 
 " It seems so indeed," said Leila. 
 
 The next evening Leila and Uncle Josiah 
 sat together on the veranda, and up and 
 down along the moonlighted paths two tall
 
 364 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 figures paced slowly Deborah and Andrew 
 MacMay. 
 
 Uncle Josiah had come to spend a few days 
 at Leila's home. Mr. MacMay had come from 
 the city to take tea. It was a long trip, merely 
 to get tea ; and now Leila began to think that 
 this guest would miss the midnight train for the 
 city, so indifferent he seemed to the horse that 
 waited for him before the great gate. 
 
 Finally these two turned and walked towards 
 the gate. 
 
 " It is ended," said Uncle Josiah. 
 
 " With a no" said Leila, " for you notice the 
 space between them as they walk? Deborah, 
 you see, has given her all herself and all that 
 she has to her work." 
 
 Uncle Josiah rose and followed his niece and 
 Mr. MacMay briskly down the walk. He came 
 up with them at the gate. " Going, Mr. Mac- 
 May?" 
 
 " Yes, I am late too." 
 
 " Never fear ; you will get the train." 
 
 " Good-by," said Deborah in a tone of finality. 
 
 " Not for long," said Andrew MacMay stur- 
 dily ; " I am coming back, if I do miss to-night." 
 
 " So you refused him ?" said Uncle Josiah, as 
 the editor rode off. 
 
 " How do you know, uncle ?" 
 
 " I am not an idiot, if I am an old bachelor.
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 365 
 
 He is a good man and a true, an educated 
 Christian gentleman ; I find him handsome and 
 agreeable. Why that 'no,' Deborah?" 
 
 " What other course was left me, uncle ? I 
 could not handicap any man with the work I 
 have undertaken. My Bureau is now fairly in- 
 dependent, but the Bureau is not all. The city 
 lies down there ; you see the red glare of its 
 night lights against the sky ; it is full of need, 
 of misery, of sin. I know down there a thou- 
 sand working-girls, my sisters, who call me to 
 aid them. They are neglected, oppressed, given 
 hard work, long hours, scant wages, severe 
 household burdens. They have no time, no 
 knowledge, no power to rise up in their own 
 behalf and make their conditions better. Phys- 
 ically, morally, religiously, financially, they need 
 help. Who shall give it ? Who shall know the 
 real wrongs and the right remedy but one who 
 has been of them, shared their difficulties, and 
 yet has shared a better too and knows by the 
 contrast how sore the trials are and what com- 
 forts and advantages are possible to woman? 
 Where can one be found to whom God has 
 given such opportunities of training for this 
 work as to me ? If I could supplement my su- 
 perintendence by wealth and by my social influ- 
 ence, then I might prosecute the work in that 
 way. But my days of wealth and social influ-
 
 366 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 ence are gone by ; to do anything at all now, I 
 must give myself." v 
 
 " You have said what I wanted you to say, 
 Deborah." 
 
 '"Then you do not blame me?" said Debo- 
 rah, taking her uncle's arm with a little sigh, for 
 now the sound of the horse's feet had died away 
 down the road. 
 
 " Blame you, my child ? You have in all 
 things more than met my expectations. But 
 this man at least he is sincere ; he is not a for- 
 tune-hunter, Deborah." 
 
 Deborah laughed a little. "The days are 
 gone by when fortune-hunters swarmed about 
 me. From the time when I was seventeen un- 
 til I was twenty-one I had well, a number of 
 offers. I think all of them were due to my for- 
 tune. And, uncle, I cannot blame those suitors 
 for being attracted by what was my only attrac- 
 tion. How could any one love a girl so cold, so 
 supercilious, so indifferent to others, so intensely 
 selfish, so unutterably discontented as I was ?" 
 
 " You were always handsome, Deborah." 
 
 " Handsomeness, beauty, consists chiefly in 
 expression, uncle ; and truly, as I remember 
 how I looked in that glass in my dressing-room, 
 I think I had as disagreeable an expression as 
 was ever on anybody's face !" cried Deborah 
 frankly.
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 367 
 
 They were back at the veranda, and Leila 
 heard the statement. " At all events you have 
 a most attractive expression now, dear Debo- 
 rah," she said. 
 
 " I think it must have improved," said Debo- 
 rah cheerily, " for I notice that dogs and babies 
 take to me, and once they did not. I do n't trust 
 to the glass now very much, for mine is small 
 and somewhat crooked, and besides I am too 
 busy to look at it often." 
 
 " Deborah," said Uncle Josiah, " it is late, but 
 I must have a long talk with you to-night ; and 
 Leila wishes to hear it. We can rest later to- 
 morrow, to make up for late hours to-night. To 
 begin with, will you fix your mind carefully and 
 intently on what you were five years ago when 
 your step-mother was killed. Meditate on that 
 for five minutes. Remember carefully." 
 
 " I have remembered, uncle," said Deborah 
 after a little. " I was an intolerable burden to 
 myself, had no care for others, no realization of 
 Christian duty, no love to God !" 
 
 " Now, my child, return in fancy to that state 
 of mind and heart ; suppose that your father's 
 fortune had come to you intact, and follow out 
 in thought the life you would have lived." 
 
 After a time of silence Deborah spoke : " Un- 
 cle, it would have been a bitter, weary life, and 
 the end thereof death."
 
 368 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Tell me, Deborah, has this change that has 
 come over your spirit, the difference in yourself, 
 in your manner of life, in your eternal pros- 
 pects, been worth the price you have paid for 
 it, loss of fortune, loss of social position, loss of 
 ease and leisure ? Has it been worth the vexa- 
 tions and rebuffs you have suffered as a working 
 woman ?" 
 
 After another careful pause: "Yes, uncle. 
 And as to the rebuffs, my nature is not one to 
 suffer much from them. I am given to taking 
 myself at my own valuation, and being suffi- 
 cient to myself." 
 
 " Deborah, I have something to tell you. I 
 must begin with your father. He had been 
 trained by a pious mother to live for God. Little 
 by little, in the cares of business, he turned aside 
 to the service of Mammon and lived only to be 
 rich. When he lay near to death, he felt that 
 he had ' fed on the east wind, that a deceived 
 heart had turned him aside.' His repentance 
 was bitter and deep. One great burden on his 
 heart was that you, to him the dearest being on 
 earth, had been spoiled by the selfish and luxu- 
 rious atmosphere by which he had surrounded 
 you. He saw you exposed to the perils of a 
 very rich woman ; he saw you an entirely selfish 
 and very unhappy woman ; he knew that you 
 had large capacities, smothered by the incubus
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 369 
 
 of your idle life; tie remembered the genial, 
 generous, loving character of your early child- 
 hood, and realized that a false system of educa- 
 tion had crushed or warped those lovely native 
 qualities and developed evil traits in their places. 
 He who should have reared you for heaven had 
 delivered you over, bound hand and foot, to the 
 god of this world. In the midst of his self- 
 reproach and intense anxiety for you I sug- 
 gested to him a remedy, a heroic remedy. I 
 proposed that he should divest himself of all his 
 fortune and die a poor man ; that you should 
 be left a poor girl, compelled to meet the cares 
 of poverty and work for your living ; that you 
 should learn by experience the sorrows and 
 wants of your sister women. That I might not 
 have the means out of which I might naturally 
 be expected to assume your support in some- 
 thing of the ease and idleness in which you had 
 grown up, I passed over to your father all my 
 property, except an income of about eight hun- 
 dred a year. Then your father divested himself 
 of all his fortune, and to do this had to rely upon 
 the secrecy and honor of two men, my friends 
 from childhood. They were for five years to be 
 sole possessors of the property, and at the end 
 of five years to return it to you. For this return 
 we had only their pledged faith. Also during 
 those years, if, as we hoped, your heart enlarged 
 
 Mr. Grosvenor' Daughter. "2
 
 37Q MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 and you gave yourself to philanthropic work, I 
 was to aid you, as I saw right, in your schemes, 
 and these friends were to furnish me money for 
 such aid. It was from them, Deborah, that I 
 got first six thousand and then twenty thou- 
 sand for your Bureau. They are the real firm 
 of Rendel Brothers, opening, at my instance, a 
 factory carried on upon liberal and righteous 
 principles. I pledged myself to your father 
 that I would take care that you did not suffer in 
 mind or in health from your battle with adver- 
 sity. Nurse Jamieson was taken into our confi- 
 dence and was to remain with you to care for 
 your health. If either Agnes or I had died in 
 this interval, the holders of your property had 
 other guardians for you ready. We bound our- 
 selves to your father that this experiment 
 should last but five years, and when you reached 
 twenty-six you should return to your inherit- 
 ance, with whatever riches of experience you 
 had gained. I felt assured that, released from 
 the thraldom of your wealth and narrow social 
 bondage, you would develop the strength and 
 nobility of your character; and given, in the 
 maturity of your twenty-six years, the steward- 
 ship of your property, you would ever hold it 
 in fee for God and for humanity. Deborah, to- 
 morrow you will be twenty-six years old. My 
 friends will be here to-morrow, and in your own
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 371. 
 
 hands will then be vested the wealth which your 
 father had nearly lost your soul and his own to 
 secure. That fortune, my child, like the water 
 brought to David ' from the well of Bethlehem 
 which is before the gate/ had nearly been the 
 price of blood. David thought the draught too 
 sacred to be consumed on self ; he poured it out 
 as an offering before the Lord. Take back, my 
 child, what was taken from you for a season and 
 answer to God henceforth for your steward- 
 ship." 
 
 Deborah sat astounded ; she could not speak. 
 
 "I only knew this since yesterday," said 
 Leila. 
 
 " No one else knew it but the two friends 
 who hold the property, your father, lawyer, and 
 Agnes and myself," said Uncle Josiah. " You 
 see if it had been known to more, and bruited 
 about, your social condition would at once have 
 been such that my experiment must have failed ; 
 you could not have known the depths of poverty 
 and ostracism." 
 
 "I have not known the depths of poverty. 
 As for the ostracism, I did not mind it," said 
 Deborah. 
 
 "If you had had wider experience of life," 
 said Uncle Josiah, " greater business knowledge, 
 I think you would have suspected that affairs 
 were not exactly as you saw them on the surface.
 
 372 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 My salary of thirty dollars, paid monthly by 
 myself, held out for too many treats. Flowers 
 and appliances for mission work came to us with 
 a readiness that would have made some peo- 
 ple suspicious. Your engagement with Rendel 
 Brothers, as forewoman, might have seemed 
 just a little strange to one versed in the ways 
 of the world. Luckily you took what came to 
 you, and did not inquire too closely into it. That 
 was the case in regard to the money received 
 for the Bureau. 
 
 " I suspected that you would trust me so much, 
 and be so absorbed in what you were doing, that 
 I could help you over hard places without re- 
 vealing my secret. You have found out some 
 of the hardness of a working woman's life, my 
 dear. Never forget that there would have been 
 a ten-fold hardness if you had really been cast 
 on the world without a friend or a dollar." 
 
 " Deborah, tell me," cried Leila, " did they 
 do right? Are you satisfied with this experi- 
 ment ?" 
 
 " Yes, I am," said Deborah. 
 
 " When I first heard it it seemed a hard rem- 
 edy," said Leila. 
 
 " What remedy is too hard when the saving 
 of a soul is in question," said Uncle Josiah. 
 " And after all what is it that has been done ? 
 Consider our Lord Jesus Christ, who, though
 
 "AT LAST I TELL YOU THE TRUTH." 373 
 
 he was rich, yet for our sakes became poor, 
 that we through his poverty might be rich ! 
 Compared with that infinite condescension what 
 is this little step which Deborah made from the 
 house of Dives to the house of Lazarus?" 
 
 " If I had known all this I might not, I could 
 not, have learned my lesson as I have." Deborah 
 rose and stood in the moonlight with clasped 
 hands ; her face was radiant. " Oh, uncle ! I 
 praise God that he gave my father courage to 
 accept what he gave you wisdom to plan ! Now 
 I know how wise was my father's love, how 
 deep his penitence ! Now I know how you de- 
 sired that I should reach my highest possible 
 plane. Blessed be the path that makes us more 
 Christlike, however hard it is to tread." 
 
 " You have learned that, now you are steward 
 of a large fortune, you must be neither selfish 
 nor lavish. If the loss of your father had broken 
 up your coldness and selfishness, while you had 
 no knowledge resulting from experience, you 
 might have done mischief by pauperizing peo- 
 ple, and the undeserving might have been 
 those who shared your chief favors. And you 
 have no doubt been saved what your father feared 
 for you most of all a loveless marriage with a 
 fortune-hunter. He yielded to my plan in the 
 hope of making you a happy woman."
 
 374 MR - GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ARISE AND LET US BUILD. 
 
 " ' The wilderness,' 
 One angel said, ' the solitary place, 
 Shall yet be glad for him, and he shall reign.' 
 The other angel answered, ' He shall reign.' " 
 
 " ARE you back ?" It was the next day at 
 noon, and so Deborah spoke to Andrew Mac- 
 May, at Leila Stirling's door. The door had 
 been standing open that hot August morning ; 
 Deborah was crossing the hall as Andrew came 
 up. Surprised she cried, " Are you back ?" She 
 was expecting Uncle Josiah's friends to appear 
 presently. 
 
 " My brother David sent me," said Andrew 
 with humility. 
 
 " It was a deal of trouble to send," began 
 Deborah. 
 
 "When he might have written," suggested 
 Andrew. 
 
 " Yes. But surely you will come in." 
 
 They went into a little reading-room, near 
 the library. 
 
 " There is to be a great meeting in my bro- 
 ther's church a week from to-day, and we want
 
 ARISE AND LET US BUILD. 375 
 
 you to be there. The ladies of our church are 
 moving in the matter principally ; Dr. Bell's peo- 
 ple are uniting with us. This work by wards, 
 the Settlement, Nursery, Bureau in each ward, is 
 more and more attracting attention, and your 
 work is more and more coming into notice. 
 Our people want to begin work, open a Bureau, 
 plant a Settlement, and found a Nursery in the 
 ward next south of the one you are working. 
 Miss Jacqueline Day is to come and tell about 
 the Settlement plan. We want a paper from 
 Miss Stirling, about Day Nurseries." 
 
 " You must ask her about that. But what do 
 you want from me ?" 
 
 " Who, I ? My brother wants that you should 
 explain all about the Bureau and its work." 
 
 " Find some one else. They will not want 
 to be dictated to by a working woman. If I 
 appear there, it will be strictly as a working 
 woman, and moreover you know that I am pro- 
 nounced in my views and express myself em- 
 phatically. They might consider me dictato- 
 rial." 
 
 " They will see that you know what you are 
 talking about. They will be stirred by your 
 enthusiasm, aroused by your energy. They will 
 see that you are a natural leader, and a leader 
 is wanted one quick to sympathize, wise to 
 plan, courageous to execute. Surely you will
 
 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 come. Here is the opportunity for extending 
 the very work which you have at heart." 
 
 " Yes ; I will be there. But society is so con- 
 stituted that it looks to rich women, or women 
 in some way distinguished for leaders, not to 
 working women." 
 
 " Deborah, you are rich in yourself ; rich 
 in your experience, rich in your gifts, rich in the 
 abundance of your sympathies. What you have 
 planned for your sister women you can show 
 other women how to execute." 
 
 " I will be there. As for Leila's paper, sup- 
 pose you go into the library and ask Leila." 
 
 She led him to the library. In the hall 
 they met Uncle Josiah. " Deborah, I have some 
 friends whom you must see in the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 She bade Andrew MacMay good morning. 
 Over an hour later Deborah went out upon the 
 veranda. Mr. MacMay stood there. " Miss Stir- 
 ling has asked me to dinner," he said. 
 
 " And Uncle Josiah has asked his friends to 
 dinner also." 
 
 " Come with me to that tall rose-bush. Some 
 of those white roses are just what your gray 
 mull dress needs." 
 
 They went to the rose-bush and he gathered 
 the flowers for her. " I told you what my bro- 
 ther wanted of you. You have agreed to his
 
 ARISE AND LET US BUILD. 377 
 
 request. You asked me by accident what 7 
 wanted. You know quite well. That we should 
 work all our lives together, united in the closest 
 bonds that God has ordained. So we shall be 
 doubly useful and happy." 
 
 " Yes," said Deborah, holding out her hand 
 to him frankly, " let us work and be happy in 
 that way." 
 
 "Do I hear you right? Can I believe it? 
 Miss Stirling told me not to despair, but I 
 feared." 
 
 " You did not think I would change my mind 
 so soon ?" said Deborah. " I have not changed 
 my mind, but my circumstances have changed. 
 Yesterday I was a poor woman and could not 
 afford to be happy in that way. I have seen 
 great need of a great work. To do it fairly I 
 must either give large means and superintend- 
 ence, or, lacking the means, I must give myself 
 entirely. Yesterday I had no means to give. 
 Hourly work, constant effort to interest others, 
 were what I had to offer to my chosen mission. 
 To-day I am rich, and I can not only give what 
 I wish to supplement my plans, but I can by the 
 force of riches impress others and draw them to 
 the work." 
 
 " Rich ? I do not understand you." 
 
 " It is that my money was simply taken 
 away from me for a season, until by experience
 
 378 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 of privation, by being forced to labor, by seeing 
 the world as it really is, and not through a 
 golden glamour, I might know how to use well 
 that of which I am the steward. Uncle Josiah 
 proposed, planned, and carried out the experi- 
 ment. I have, you see, been tested, and now I 
 am thought worthy to use my fortune." 
 
 Andrew MacMay looked troubled. The 
 heiress, Miss Grosvenor, was rich enough to 
 alarm him. He shrank from being regarded by 
 any as a fortune-hunter. People would think 
 that he knew all about it ! Deborah understood. 
 
 " We shall know how it was, if others do not. 
 As to the money, it is already Corban, a gift to 
 God." 
 
 "What a blessing it would be if into the 
 seething miseries of the city could be cast many 
 fortunes, not to pauperize the working classes, 
 but to make tolerable the conditions of their 
 existence ; to enable them to reach the physical, 
 moral, intellectual, social status worthy of the 
 creatures of God and the children of the State," 
 cried Andrew, clasping both her hands. 
 
 Mr. Conrad, one of Uncle Josiah's friends, 
 came near. " This problem of the city popula- 
 tion is becoming more and more pressing every 
 day. The phenomenon of city-ward tendency 
 is world- wide. Perhaps God has called you two 
 to help show us how to avert its dangers."
 
 ARISE AND LET US BUILD. 379 
 
 " Miss Grosvenor," said Andrew, " does not 
 propose like old-time Dives to feed Lazarus 
 with the crumbs from her table. How would 
 that story have read if it had ended that Dives 
 raised Lazarus up, had him healed and clothed, 
 and recognized him as a brother in the family of 
 the divine Father ?" 
 
 " It would then have had a different ending. 
 Not that Dives begged for water to cool his 
 tongue, but that he drank of the water of God's 
 pleasures for evermore." 
 
 " Such a story has been told," said Andrew, 
 "of the great philanthropist Quentin Hogg, 
 who founded the London Polytechnic for 
 Christ's sake, and has put into it seven hundred 
 and fifty thousand dollars of his own money, 
 besides his time and incalculable personal influ- 
 ence." 
 
 " Servant of God, well done}!" said Deborah. 
 
 "And," continued Mr. Conrad, "that great 
 Fresh-Air Movement which yearly saves so 
 many children by means of a country vacation, 
 was inaugurated by a poor man, a country min- 
 ister, who had only his organizing abilities, his 
 eloquent tongue, and his consecrated zeal to put 
 into the work. One of the best city homes for 
 working-girls was started by a young working- 
 girl on a capital of one hundred and twenty-five 
 dollars slowly saved out of her small wages."
 
 380 MR. GRG-SYENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 " Let me tell you a little story," said Debo- 
 rah. " One evening when I was at Leila Stir- 
 ling's, I heard a ring, and stepped into the hall 
 just in time to hear a timid, hurried voice and 
 an indifferent ' no ' in reply to it from the man 
 servant. 
 
 " 'Just a girl wanting to sell something,' he 
 said. It was nine o'clock at night, a winter 
 night, cold and dark. I ran to the door, and, 
 moving slowly from the steps I saw a slight 
 figure. I called her, 'Girl, girl, come back- 
 please ; I want what you have.' She came 
 back a trembling, terrified country girl of six- 
 teen, holding a little bracket. Some one had 
 written through a friend, offering her a place as 
 child's maid. She came to the city, only to find 
 the house where she expected to live closed ; the 
 lady, entirely forgetful of the new girl, had sud- 
 denly gone South. The poor creature, not hav- 
 ing money to return home, had wandered for- 
 lornly about the streets all day, and was trying 
 to sell the little treasure which she carried in 
 her hand to get a night's lodging. Homes, 
 open to all, their doors and windows bearing 
 their invitation to refuge, should be scattered 
 through the cities, and reasonably near to- 
 gether; homes for working-girls, clean, attract- 
 ive, well ventilated, well drained, comfortable, 
 with elements of beauty. The working woman
 
 ARISE AND LET US BUILD. 381 
 
 has the same yearning for home, the same long- 
 ing for beautiful surroundings, as the richer wo- 
 man." 
 
 " We want Clubs also," said Mr. Carver, 
 another of Uncle Josiah's friends. "Wherever 
 Working-Girls' Clubs have been instituted, the 
 status of the girls has been elevated. In the 
 Clubs the girls of best moral and mental quality 
 come to the front ; they raise the social level of 
 the rest ; they give them new ambitions, new 
 ideas; they improve physique by inculcating 
 regular hours, neatness, and sound diet. They 
 encourage gymnastic exercises and evening 
 classes. Give us more Girls' Clubs." 
 
 After dinner, while Miss Stirling's guests 
 were on the piazza, a large wagon drove up, and 
 Deborah saw in it Jean, Bella, Nan, Martha, 
 Stella, now forewoman in her place, Oliver, and 
 two others. " How surprised and delighted I 
 am !" she said, and she led them towards a large 
 arbor draped in clematis and roses. She knew 
 that they would be abashed if at once brought 
 face to face with the group of strange gentle- 
 men gathered about Leila's chair. 
 
 " Something so queer happened," said Jean, 
 always the mouthpiece of the others: "our 
 whole factory got a holiday with wages not to 
 be docked ! Mr. Ames sorted us out from the 
 rest, and said we were to come out here to visit
 
 382 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 you, and he gave us tickets and told us what 
 train to take. Oh it has been such a trip, and 
 what a splendid place this is ! I do n't see how 
 you can come back among us after being out 
 here." 
 
 "Places are not worth as much as people," 
 said Deborah. " I care for you girls. And, 
 Stella, how do you get on being forewoman in 
 my place ?" 
 
 " Ask the girls," said Stella. 
 
 " Right well," said Martha. " She is firmer 
 than I am. If we had not you, she would be 
 next best." 
 
 " And if you were a forewoman with five 
 hundred a year, what would you do, Stella?" 
 said Deborah. 
 
 " I think I should get a little home outside of 
 town where the schools were graded as in the 
 city, so that my boy could be safe and continue 
 his studies, and Bella's lame sister should live 
 with me and keep my home." 
 
 After an hour of talk Deborah escorted her 
 guests about the place, to see the lake and the 
 swans, eat fruit in the orchard, to pick flowers 
 in the garden, and finally took them back to the 
 arbor, and Leila was wheeled out there in the 
 reclining chair by Andrew MacMay and Uncle 
 Josiah. 
 
 After another talk Deborah looked towards
 
 ARISE AND LET US BUILD. 383 
 
 a table which had at Leila's orders been spread 
 under the trees on the lawn ; fruit, rolls, cold 
 meat, chocolate, and other appetizing edibles 
 had been spread out on this table, and there 
 Deborah invited her visitors for a feast which 
 lasted until the red glory of the evening died 
 into a purple twilight. 
 
 Their beautiful visit was ended, but Deborah 
 promised herself that she would buy Vinton 
 Place, and that her working sisters should have 
 many such visits there in the days to come. 
 
 " What !" said Jean to the others one day, 
 some weeks later, " did she know when we were 
 there that she was a rich woman, and yet treated 
 us just the same ? I feel sure now that she truly 
 cares, and I shall not be afraid to love her even 
 if she is rich ; I shall love her all the more." 
 
 It was thus that Deborah had been tested and 
 had borne the test. 
 
 The great meeting in Dr. MacMay's church 
 was held as appointed. The story of Deborah 
 and her fortune had crept into the papers, for 
 what stays out of the newspapers ? Crept in ? 
 No: marched in with all the flourish of re- 
 porters' trumpets. That prominence was the 
 one thing- which distressed Deborah ; but these 
 are days when one's private affairs are deemed 
 lawful prey to the public. The affair of the 
 " Grosvenor fortune " was a romance, a fairy-
 
 384 MR. GROSVENOR'S DAUGHTER. 
 
 tale ; it helped to pack tlie church at that meet- 
 ing. 
 
 And when Deborah was called upon to tell 
 the story of the Bureau, and her plan for having 
 such a Bureau in every ward, she began by 
 saying, "I come to you as a working woman. 
 I too have earned my daily bread ; I am glad 
 that I can speak to you the things that I have 
 seen, and testify what by my own experience 
 I know. I can plead the cause of my sister wo- 
 men, because I know them and have lived 
 among them, and I am assured that the true 
 help of woman must not be looked for primarily 
 from men, from working men or educated men 
 or political economists, but from thoughtful 
 Christian women. Every one of us women has 
 an errand from God to our sister women ; let us 
 fulfil our errands with no aimless feet." 
 
 " Deborah Grosvenor," said an enthusiastic 
 lady, an acquaintance of the old days, meeting 
 her when the discussion was ended, " I never 
 dreamed that there was so much in you !" 
 
 " There is no doubt a great deal in all of us 
 just waiting to be brought out," said Deborah.
 
 A 000129025 3