CHAPTER IX.
THE PLEA OF MISS JENNINGS.
When Faith Marvin entered her mother's four-room flat on the top floor of a dingy brick building she was almost out of breath from indignation and rapid walking.
She tried to calm herself a little before her mother saw her, for Mrs. Marvin was on the verge of nervous prostration.
When Faith looked into the little parlor she saw what she dreaded most, her mother lying on the sofa suffering from a terrible headache.
"I must say absolutely nothing," whispered Faith to herself; "but what if that fellow should follow me home! Oh, it would be terrible! Terrible! I am sure it would kill her!"
She washed her face and hands and smoothed her hair, then went quietly into the parlor and kissed her mother.
"Oh, Faith," cried the sick woman, sharply.
"How did you get along, dear? Were they kind to you in that dreadful store, or will they kill my daughter, as they did my husband?"
"Hush, mother; don't say anything like that, there's a dear," said Faith quickly. "Don't let your mind dwell so steadily on unpleasant things, and just as soon as your head is better I'll tell you all about it."
"Tell me now, Faith, I insist," cried her mother, irritably. "I must know the truth at once. Just think, dear, I have lain here all day worrying about you, my child! It has been the hardest day of your life! I feel it and I can see it."
She was gazing at Faith with a keen, penetrating glance. It would have been cruel to have kept her in ignorance any longer.
"Well, then, lie down, dear, and I'll begin at the beginning," said Faith gently, "and you must promise not to ask questions until I have finished."
She laid her mother back on the sofa and began her tale, but she took care to touch upon some things very lightly and leave others out of her narration altogether.
When she had finished her mother still lay silent for a few minutes, then she suddenly sat up straight and stared at her daughter.
"It is a thousand times worse than I thought," she said slowly. "Although your father told me a great deal about the evils that exist in business places. Why, those men are criminals and nothing less! They are destroying women's souls as well as starving their bodies, and all to swell their own bank accounts and ride in carriages. Oh, it is shameful! And to think that nothing can be done to stop it."
"But something must be done! Something shall be done!" cried Faith stoutly. "There is one power alone that can conquer all evil. We must invoke that power upon this dreadful curse, and God has promised that the prayer of faith shall not go unanswered."
"Oh, child, can you not see how foolish all that is?" asked her mother irritably. "As if prayer was needed for what God can see for Himself! If He wished things different He could easily change them. I have no faith in His goodness, His love or His mercy."
The tears sprang to Faith's eyes, but the words did not surprise her. She laid them to the weakness of her mother's physical condition.
"Some day you will see it differently, dear little mother," she said, sweetly. "You are still resentful for the injury which you have suffered. When that spirit has been conquered your faith will return. 'All things work together for good to them that love Him.'"
"Do you mean that your dear father's death was intended for my good?" her mother almost screamed. "Do you see mercy, child, in such cruel injustice, injustice that allows the rich to prosper in their evil ways and puts the knife of poverty to the throat of the deserving? No! a thousand times no! I will not believe it! Your father was an honest man doing a legitimate business. Those sharks opened their store and put in a book department. They undercut his figures even when it was a loss to do so, knowing that in the end they would ruin him and drive him out of their path forever! What followed? You know only too well, my poor, fatherless daughter. In a fit of despondency he killed himself; the man who had done no wrong—except to lose his courage, and they, Denton, Day & Co., have accumulated millions. They have his blood on their hands as they have the blood of many others!"
The poor woman was rocking herself back and forth as she talked, while Faith could only bury her head in the sofa pillows and pray silently for wisdom.
She knew that the frenzy would wear away soon. Her mother's strength could not stand the strain of such agony many minutes.
"I can understand that girl stealing the jewelry, Faith," she went on more calmly, "It was a terrible thing to do, but she doubtless justified herself in doing it. And the woman who is going from bad is worse—oh, she has my sympathy, poor wretch! She is hopeless, discouraged; she does not know what she is doing."
Faith got up silently and went out into the kitchen. In a few moments she came back with a cup of tea for her mother.
In a second her action had reaped its results. The mother instinct asserted itself. Mrs Marvin suddenly remembered that Faith had had no supper.
"I am to have a visitor soon, mother," said Faith with a smile, while her mother was getting the supper, "Miss Jennings is coming in later. She lives only two blocks from the corner."
"She is a consumptive, I think you said. I shall be glad to see her," said Mrs. Marvin, "and I'll try, Faith, to calm my nerves, and not force my bitterness on another."
Faith smiled very sadly at her mother's words.
"Miss Jennings is far more bitter than you can ever be, mother dear," she said slowly. "She is almost callous, while you are still smarting with anguish."
For the next half-hour Faith busied herself with their frugal supper. Before the meal was over she was pleased to see that her mother was becoming more composed and natural. When Miss Jennings came in both ladies greeted her warmly. There was a hectic glow in her cheeks, and she coughed almost constantly.
Mrs. Marvin left the two girls together at an early hour. She had kept her promise and been remarkably cheerful.
"Now, Faith, to business," said Miss Jennings, as soon as they were alone. "I want to tell you why you must not report that clerk's theft to-morrow."
Faith drew her chair a little nearer and prepared to listen. She was beginning to understand her friend's character a little better.
"In the first place," began Miss Jennings, "we will consider the girl. I know her well. You need not describe her. What I know about her is this: She is the daughter of a criminal. Her father was a pickpocket, he died in prison. Now I ask you, Faith, what can you expect from this girl? According to your Bible are not 'the iniquities' of the fathers visited upon the children, and are the innocents to blame for their undesirable inheritance? Furthermore, that girl's mother was what we call an outcast. Can you reasonably look for morality of any sort in the offspring of such an infamous union? You do not answer, because you cannot! I defy any of your Christians to straighten out this matter. The viciousness of most children is their only endowment, unless we add the poverty, the diseases and the hopelessness that go with it. Now to consider her environments and her temptations in that store. She is working for thieves, why should she not steal? She is working for successful people, why should she not take example of their methods. These things seem harsh and hard to you, Faith, but they are actual facts, just as you will surely see them. If you report that girl what will be the result? Listen, here it is, the outcome in a nutshell. You will be reporting to robbers that they are being robbed, not of their lives, their liberties and their honors, as they rob us, but of a paltry piece of jewelry, which they have bought out of their enormous profits. You will, no doubt, lose for the girl a position which has the semblance of respectability, and like poor Kate Travers, she will go from bad to worse, only, unlike Kate, she will have no pure motive. Then, lastly, to consider your own position in the matter, from that standpoint which you choose to call your Christian duty—"
She stopped to cough, and Faith broke in upon her.
"I know what you would say. You think by reporting her crime I will only be driving her to more vicious depths, whereas, by protecting her from the punishment she deserves I may be able to influence her toward a better life. Oh, Mary, I thank you! You have shown me my error. Say no more to me to-night about censuring any one for their wrongdoing! It grows more wonderful every moment that the girls are as good as they are. God help them, they are innocent! It is all the fault of conditions! If we could only strike at the root of it all, Mary."
"We would have to go back many years and generations, I'm afraid," whispered Miss Jennings. "But at present we need go no further than the heads of that firm—for Denton, Day & Forbes are the roots in this case, from which emanate the evils which are destroying us soul and body."