"Why not send her to that new Rescue Home till we get more particulars? They'll take care of her. There's a woman there that knows her job alright."
And so to the Redemptive Home Lavina was sent, the authorities giving the usual instructions governing such a case. For a few hours the new-comer was silent, but few girls could long be silent in the presence of the big-hearted, winsome Superintendent of that Home. It was a new experience for Lavina; the only kindness she had known was the traitorous type, and it was hard for her to believe that there was such a thing as unselfish love. Forty-eight hours from the time she crossed the threshold of the Home, the hand that was almost ready to strike any one who seemed to have co-operated in checking her reckless career was slipped along the forearm of the Superintendent.
"Everybody thinks I'm bad, and I guess I am, but I believe if I had lived with you I might have wanted to be good."
The words did not come easily, but when the Superintendent stroked the black hair and put an arm around the wanderer, drawing the head to her shoulder, she realized that love had won its first battle in that misguided life.
The following morning a young man rang the door-bell of the Home in an impatient manner. When the Superintendent appeared he said, "Is this where Lavina Berson is?"
"Yes," was the reply.
"Well, I want her, and I want her d——d quick. She's a d——d nuisance. She's never been any good. Nobody can do anything with her." Then, drawing a rope from his pocket, he said, "I'll bind the little devil with this, and if that won't do I've something else in here (putting his hand over his hip-pocket) that will settle her." His face was red with passion, and his eyes flashed with anger. "Oh! you needn't tell me," he continued. "I know all about her; I'm her brother. I'm sick of getting her out of difficulties. I say she's a d——d nuisance, and I ain't going to let her forget this trip I've had to take, not on your bottom dollar I ain't. I've got something else to do than to be chasing over the country after her."
"You cannot get possession of your sister to-day," answered the Superintendent. "Even if I were not under obligation to the authorities to detain her, pending their instructions, I could not let her go with you just now. She is a friend of mine, and I love her. She has told me her story; she is only just sixteen. Ropes and pistols and policemen are not the remedy, sir; she needs a brother—a real brother. If you call in the morning I shall be glad to have a quiet talk with you."
Ten days later, in her own town, the court-room was crowded when the case of Lavina Berson was called. The trial resulted in a mass of evidence to show that she was bad. There seemed no other course open to the Judge but to send her to a reformatory. She had associated with the fastest boys and girls, and with the most lawless men and women her town had known. The policeman, giving evidence, made it clear that the town would be well rid of her. Not one witness, even to the girl's mother, had any hopeful word to speak.
In the face of such evidence there seemed only one course open. When the word "reformatory" reached the girl's ear she broke into a passion of weeping, so that the Judge hesitated a moment. Then there was some movement and whispering near the witness-box. The Superintendent mentioned had journeyed Eastward to be present at the trial, and she was now conferring with the Morality Inspector.