The young priest uttered an exclamation of displeasure. Then, as the workman started away:
“You’ll be at the Hall to-night, Fagin? And bring everybody you can.”
The man addressed nodded and gave an affirmative grunt, then passed on into the darkness.
“It’s trying to reach a few of ’em I am,” remarked the priest. “But it’s slow work. When a man’s stomach’s empty he hasn’t much respect for morality. And I can’t feed the lot of ’em!”
Carmen gazed into the kindly blue eyes of the priest and wondered. “How are you reaching them?” she asked. “I am very much interested.”
The priest returned the girl’s searching look. “In settlement work?” he queried.
“No––but I am interested in my fellow-beings.”
“Ah, then you’ll understand. I’ve some rooms, some on Main street, which I call the Hall, and some down in the––well, the bad district, which I call the Mission. They’re reading rooms, places for men to meet, and get acquainted, and rest, and talk. The Hall’s for the fellows who work, like this Fagin. The Mission’s for the down-and-outs.”
“But––are your rooms only for––for men of your faith?”
“Nary a bit!” exclaimed the priest with a little laugh. “Race or religion don’t figure. It’s to give help to every man that needs it.”