They went up to “the gang;” at Miss Falbe’s door Elsie paused and grew sober; but it was only for a moment.
V.
THE police-chief’s handsome wife no longer kept office hours from ten to eleven. She was tired of it.
These preliminary labors dragged along interminably; when the chaplain once had the Institution organized, it seemed as if he had gained his point, and the Institution’s farther growth and progress he did not allow to lie so much upon his mind.
At the last meeting he had even, with his customary decision, proposed that the matter should temporarily rest until autumn; for the summer was now at hand, when all the Institution’s promoters were going to the baths or into the country; they could, therefore, confine themselves to working secretly—as the chaplain expressed himself—and so meet again, if God will, at autumn with renewed powers.
Working secretly was not to this lady’s taste. She desired, on the contrary, to distinguish herself in one way or another; but there was no opportunity, and at last she let the register lie unopened on the desk; but she did let it lie there; it was always a graceful object and every stranger was sure to ask what it was.
One delightful May morning, between ten and eleven, the maid came into her bed-chamber and announced that Miss Falbe was waiting to see her.
At first the lady wished to excuse herself; but when she heard that it concerned the Institution for Fallen Women, at St. Peter’s Parish, she made a becoming negligee toilet and went down. But she was a little provoked, anyhow; it was just like Miss Falbe to come at the wrong time.
It was like her, too, not to seem to hear the story of the horrible headache which the lady related; but without further ado, to go straight to the matter in hand.