As Zura continued her wild exaggerations a look of horror covered Miss Gray's face.
"Oh! Zury!" she cried. "Surely those ladies had on part of a dress."
"No! angel child, not even a symptom. Daddy didn't want to paint their clothes. He wanted to copy the curves that grew on the people."
Jane covered her eyes and spoke in a voice filled with trouble.
"Dearie! I've lived in America a long time but I didn't know there were people like that! I'm really afraid they aren't selling their souls for the highest price."
"Daddy wasn't dealing in souls, but he did pay a pretty high price for lines."
Jane, unsatisfied, asked why her father couldn't use statues for his model and Zura seeing how troubled her friend was for the souls of the undressed, asked with eager sympathy to be allowed to see the plans for the soon-to-be built hospital.
The ground for the building had been purchased and work was well on the way. Shortly the roof-raising ceremony would take place. In this part of the country it is the most important event in building. Jane said that we were all expected to attend these exercises, even if we were so afraid of the criminal quarters that we had to take our hearts in our hands to enter.
Brown head and gray were bent together over blueprints and long columns of figures. Both maid and woman were frail and delicate tools to be used in the up-building of wrecked lives. Yet by the skill of the Master Mechanic these instruments were not only working wonders in other lives, but also something very beautiful in their own.
Zura took untiring interest in all Jane's plans for the after-festivities of the occasion. Most of their evenings were spent in arranging programs. I took no part. My hands were full of my own work and, while they talked, I paused to listen and was delighted not only in the transformation of Zura, but also in my own enlarged understanding of her.