“Poor, dear soul, we know not where she went. It was so sudden. Sir, it’s nearly broke our ’earts, that it ’as, the idea of that poor gal being out in this ’ere awful world, ’omeless.”
“You dear, godly woman,” was my mental comment, as I thought of all that the trader who lived next door had told me.
“Don’t weep, Mrs Pink; it’s no good weeping over the inevitable,” said I, as I stared at the wall to hide my real feelings.
Old Mother Pink sobbed the louder as I made that remark; but I must admit that Old Man Pink paused a moment, withdrew his large red pocket-handkerchief, and used one eye in a steady sidelong gaze at my face. I think the holy old beggar heard the sarcastic note in my voice. However that may be, he suddenly rose and hurried out of the room. Then Mrs Pink handed me the bill, the sum total for Waylao’s rent and expenses incurred. I said: “Ah, Mrs Pink, I’ll never forget your kindness. I know human nature so well. I know that all the people living in these parts are good Christians, followers of the preaching of our Lord Jesus Christ, He who had nowhere to lay His head. I know that you all go to chapel here, as they do in the big cities of the world—New York, Paris, Berlin and London. Ah, Mrs Pink, I’ve travelled those cities; you remind me so much of them, sweet soul that you are. I know that a great grief has come into your life and into the lives of your neighbours through the knowledge that a fallen girl is somewhere out in the world homeless. Did it upset you all much, Mrs Pink?”
“Indeed it did, indeed it did,” sobbed the old hypocrite, as she bunched the handkerchief against her eyes and rubbed and rubbed. Then I proceeded:
“I am a missionary, but a boy in years, but I’m honest, truthful and would help the fallen.”
“Yes, I know, I know,” sobbed the old woman in her ecclesiastical anguish, as she gently pushed Waylao’s bill a little nearer to me.
Still I continued: “Ah, Mrs Pink, I know that if a voice said, ‘She who is without sin cast the first stone,’ you of all would indeed be the one on earth to cast such a missile.” Saying this, I looked at her ignorant face, and I saw that my remarks had fallen on barren soil. I rose from the chair, picked up Waylao’s bill for rent and expenses incurred and tore it into pieces. The expression on the woman’s face gave me extreme satisfaction. Without a word I strode out of the room. I passed Old Man Pink in the narrow hall that led down to the steps and the front door. I suppose he had been listening, so as to confirm his suspicions. If he had any doubts they must have been quite dispelled as he fell down the flight of steps and I strode away out into the night. He was an old man, and I did not intend to push against him in that narrow hall, but it was dark, and I was in no mood to argue with obstacles.