CHAPTER XI.
A DEATH IN THE CLOAK-ROOM.
When Faith reached the cloak-room she found a scene of the wildest confusion. A number of clerks and cash girls were surrounding Miss Jennings, who lay on the floor upon a pile of wraps which they had hurriedly thrown down for her. Mr. Gibson, the manager, was bending over her with a glass of water in his hand, and was giving orders right and left in an excited manner.
"Go for a doctor, some one!" he cried. "No, get an ambulance—that will be better! The officer on the corner will call one for you. It will never do to have her die here! The newspapers would all get it, and goodness only knows what they would say about us."
He raised his head as he spoke and found himself face to face with the new packer in the ribbon department. She was as white as chalk and her eyes were flaming with anger.
"How dare you send her to a hospital when she is so ill?" she whispered, sharply. "Get a physician here at once, sir, and a glass of wine instead of water."
She pushed her way through the group of frightened girls and looked upon her friend, whom she saw at once was unconscious from weakness.
"Stand back a little, girls, and give her air," she cried, firmly. "There is none too much ventilation in this place, Mr. Gibson; quick—lower the windows if you can, sir."
Without dreaming of disobeying, Mr. Gibson sprang to the window. There was something so commanding in her manner that she fairly over-awed him. The next moment he had dispatched cash girls for a doctor and some wine, even taking the money out of his own pocket to pay for the cordial.
Faith had succeeded in clearing a circle about the fainting girl, and was just looking for something with which to fan her, when two people—a man and a woman—entered the door of the cloak-room, and stopped short when they saw the unusual spectacle.
"It is just as I thought—she is dying," said the woman, softly.
Faith recognized the voice at once. It was the lady whom she had just left talking to Miss Fairbanks at the ribbon counter.
"You see, Mr. Denton, my words have come true! You are killing these young women by overwork and bad air, yet you dare to resent any interference in the matter."
Faith was kneeling by Miss Jennings now and had raised her head to her lap. There was a quiver of the girl's eyelids. When the wine came at last she was able to swallow it.
"This is dreadful!" said Mr. Denton, in a tone of genuine distress. "Here, Mr. Gibson, do all you possibly can for that young woman, and for Heaven's sake, try to keep this out of the newspapers."
"Can I help you, dear?" said the lady, going over to where Faith sat by her friend, "or am I merely exhausting the air that the poor child should be breathing? You were a brave girl to come to her rescue as you did. If any trouble results from it, be sure and let me know it."
She dropped her card into Faith's lap, and left the place with Mr. Denton.
The doctor was just entering and there was no spare room. She had seen at a glance that Faith could do all that was needed.
A few minutes later Miss Jennings opened her eyes. When she saw Faith bending over her she smiled very happily.
"You are better, dear, aren't you?" whispered Faith, as she tried to return the smile.
Miss Jennings shook her head gently. "I am satisfied," was her low answer.
"But I want you to be happy, Mary," cried Faith, who saw death in the poor girl's face. "Look up, dear; there is One who loves you. Can you not believe it?"
"I trust it is so," said the dying girl, faintly, "I have not believed, but I may have been mistaken."
"You were indeed, Mary, but you were not to blame! Poor child, yours has been a sad lot, but there is happiness coming."
There were stifled sobs from many of the girls who were standing in frightened groups about the room. The hush upon each lip spoke only too plainly of death's presence.
"Poor Dick!" sighed Miss Jennings. "If it were not for Dick—"
Dick was the crippled brother who was her only charge.
"I will take him to live with me, Mary," whispered Faith, nobly. "My mother will love him and so will I—but what is it, dear?"
Miss Jennings was trying to say something more. Her voice was so low that only Faith could hear it.
"Will He forgive indifference, rebellion, distrust?"
"Though your sins are as scarlet, He shall wash them white, dear Mary. As we forgive our enemies, so He will forgive us."
The dying girl raised her eyes. Strangely enough their gaze rested upon the face of Mr. Denton.
He had come back to the scene only a moment before, and for perhaps the first time in his life, pangs of remorse were seizing him.
"I—forgive—" murmured the poor girl, still gazing at Mr. Denton. Her eyes closed slowly as she spoke.
With a fearful groan, Mr. Denton fled from the place.
The physician had done what he could, but his efforts were useless. Another life had gone out at the very dawning of its day; crushed out by the injustice and the greed of fellow-beings. Faith choked back her sobs as well as she could, and looked on in amazement at what followed the tragedy. An undertaker was called and placed in charge of the body, and the utmost concern seemed to be felt about all the arrangements, especially by Mr. Gibson, who had been put in charge of the matter by the firm.
Faith would not have understood such a sudden "change of heart" if she had not been enlightened by one of the other women.
"They know it's bound to get into the papers," she whispered, "so they are making a big bluff, you know. They don't really care about Miss Jennings."
Faith put on her hat without waiting to hear more; Such hypocrisy as this completely overcame her.
Miss Fairbanks was not consulted regarding her movements now, for the young girl quite forgot the rules and regulations of the establishment. As quick as she could she started to go up-town in search of the humble rooms where she knew she would find the crippled boy whom she had taken under her protection.
As she left the store a young man joined her. She gave a sharp glance at his face. It was Mr. Watkins.
Involuntarily the young girl extended her hand, and in that sympathetic clasp both knew that their love for the dead girl was mutual, and that forever after between them would be the firmest friendship.
Mr. Watkins insisted upon accompanying Faith on her errand of mercy, and as he seemed to need her tender consolation and sympathy, Faith was glad to allow him to share her mission.
He had heard of his sweetheart's death only through the gossip of the store, so Faith told him of Mary's calm resignation, and her belief that she died happy in the faith of a true Christian.
The crippled boy, Dick, was a sweet little fellow of six years, and in spite of the added expense, Mrs. Marvin was glad to have him with her. He would give her something to think of, she said, in the long days to come, when Faith would be away at business. She set about to comfort the little fellow at once.
Faith was too disturbed to go back to the store that day, and as it was to be closed the next day on account of the funeral of young Mr. Forbes, she had time to think over the outlook for the future.
"I am sure Mr. Denton is not a bad man, mother," she said, as they sat with Mr. Watkins in the little parlor. "His face showed the deepest agony. I am sure he has a heart. Oh, if only I could reach it, perhaps things would be different."
"But you say that lady, the Government Inspector, was with him at the time. His distress may have been feigned," answered her mother, suspiciously.
"I don't think so, mother, for there were tears in his eyes. I think he is merely neglectful. He leaves the consideration for employees entirely to his partners."
"Many business men are that way," remarked her mother, after a minute. "They are so concerned about their financial matters that they ignore what is more sacred—their duty toward their fellow-beings. By the way, I have just read of two more failures, one a shoe store and the other a grocery store, and both because of the department store evil! How can small dealers, with only a few hundred dollars behind them, expect to compete with firms whose capitals reach the millions? They are only the poor little fishes in the sea, while the department stores are sharks, sharp-toothed monsters of destruction!"
"I have heard of one department store in Philadelphia, I think, where the proprietor gave situations to a lot of men after he had bought them out or completely ruined their business. That is better than nothing," said Mr. Watkins thoughtfully.
"It is the only recompense possible in such an unjust transaction."
"They do not think it unjust; they call it simply business,'" said Faith bitterly. "The one who sells the most goods is considered the smartest. It is a case where might makes right—the survival of the fittest."
"In other words," replied Mrs. Marvin, "a rich corporation justifies its methods on the grounds that it has a right to transact business on a scale corresponding to its pecuniary ability—there is no question of morality involved. Every man for himself, and the devil take the hindmost. Yet there are people who believe that there is no future punishment for these malefactors."
"God will punish them according to His judgment, mother. It may be here and it may be hereafter. We have nothing to do with their wrongdoing. We must suffer and be brave—that is our duty and our mission."
"And do you see no injustice in that?" cried Mr. Watkins sharply.
"Was it right that poor Mary should be born to poverty and disease and wear her young life out in agony, while so many of the wicked are flourishing? Oh, I have tried not to question or even to think, but the promise of salvation grows daily more dull in my ears. I doubt the mercy of God and I cannot help it!"