Tod looked skeptical.
"I like to hear you talk," he said lightly, "because you're so earnest about it, but really you're wrong. If these people were given assistance to-day they would be as badly off to-morrow. All civilizations have had this problem to deal with. The poor are the underdogs in the struggle for life. They're only half human, anyway. Most of them have never known anything better. They are used to roughing it. They actually enjoy their dirt. They themselves are largely responsible for their own misfortunes. They drink, they're shiftless and thriftless."
"The rich have more vices than the poor," answered Paula quietly. "The poor drink to drown their troubles. We can't say just why, of two men born with the same advantages, one prospers and the other remains in the gutter. We can only deal with the problem as we find it. It is dreadful to think that buried in these fearful tenements, brutalized by their frightful environments, are numbers of talented young men and women who are trying to better themselves. Left to themselves they are likely to sink deeper in the frightful morass that surrounds them, but if extended a helping hand they may be able to rise above the appalling conditions and so escape the terrible degradation and suffering that otherwise awaits them. A boy or girl, children of the tenements, may have within the genius of a Wagner or a Rosa Bonheur, but from infancy these children are so dragged down, so brutalized by their unspeakable environments that their natural aspirations and talents are hopelessly crushed. It is to such as these that the Settlement lends its aid. We are trying to help the deserving, we are seeking to sift the gold from the dross. Look, there is the Settlement House!"
On the opposite side of the street was a substantial-looking building resembling a small school-house. Conspicuous by its cleanliness among the surrounding dingy tenements, erected by enlightened and humane idealists for the sole purpose of uplifting humanity, it stood as a kind of moral lighthouse set down in a deadly morass of crime and hopeless pauperism.
"Come, I will show you all through," cried Paula enthusiastically. Her face brightened up and her step was elastic as once more she found herself in the midst of her fellow workers. Smiles and nods greeted her from every direction. The place was busy as a beehive. The halls were full of people; classes were going on in the different rooms. Taking Tod's arm, she led him in this direction and that, proud to show all there was to be seen. There were regular night classes where those employed during the day could receive instruction in stenography, bookkeeping, and other useful vocations, gymnasiums, classes where the technical trades were taught, classes where music lessons were given. There were also attractive recreation rooms which kept young men from the dangers of saloons and young girls from the temptations of the dance halls.
"It's such interesting work," she said. "Here I have no time to think of my troubles. I can forget Uncle James and Bascom Cooley."
Tod was full of enthusiasm.
"No wonder you've no use for society and the rest," he said admiringly. "If I'd taken a taste for this sort of thing years ago perhaps I wouldn't have made such a fool of myself."
Paula laughed.
"There's still time," she said mischievously. "It's never too late to mend, you know." Leading him once more in the direction of the street, she added: "This is the bright side of my work; I'll let you look now on the darker side. It isn't so pleasant. Come with me."