“Not so,” she replied, shaking her head. “I know my weakness and ignorance too well. I only recognize the truth that the primitive idea of equal rights seems to have been utterly lost in this avaricious world. But so long as I have voice I shall speak for it. The good such speaking may do remains to be seen.”
Margaret went up to her rooms and opened her purse to see how much money she had at her command. Of the money Dr. Ely had sent, but five dollars remained. “If worst comes, and I cannot regain the furniture, this will at least buy them something to eat, and I can loan them Gilbert’s bed while he takes the lounge, until the way is opened for something better. Now to find a lawyer in whose hands to put the case.”
Once on the street, Margaret realized that in all the great city she knew no one to whom she might apply for advice. She wandered down toward the business part of the city, intently scanning signs and inwardly praying that she might be directed to some one who, with the profession of lawyer, combined the outlawed sentiment of humanity. “J. Brown, Attorney,” glittered in gilt letters before her, and up the two tall flights of stairs she followed the beckoning sign. A gentle rap, answered by a gruff “Come in!” and the room of J. Brown, Attorney, opened to her view.
“Is Mr. Brown in?”
“I am he. What can I do for you, madam?”
“I desire advice on a matter of business.”
“Ah, be seated, please. You may state your case.”
Margaret lost no time in doing so, relating the pitiful story with such succinct detail that the lawyer beamed at her with evident admiration.
“Very well stated, madam—very well, indeed. Are these people in any way related to you?”
“They are entire strangers.”