“Well,” he answered, “there was something wrong with that woman’s husband. Nothing infectious, I believe, but they didn’t seem to consider him a desirable citizen. They make a warning example of somebody with a physical infirmity now and then. The man, they decided, must be put ashore again. In the meanwhile, somebody else had hustled the woman forward, and it looked as if they would take her on without him. The tug was almost ready to cast off.”
“How dreadful!” said Agatha. “But what did you do?”
“Merely promised to guarantee the cost of his passage back if they would refer his case to the immigration people at the other end. It is scarcely likely that they’ll make trouble. As a rule, they only throw out folks who are certain to become a charge on the community.”
“But if he really had any infirmity, mightn’t it lead to that?”
“No,” Wyllard responded dryly. “I would engage to give him a fair start if it was necessary. You wouldn’t have had that woman landed in Montreal, helpless and alone, while the man was sent back again to starve in Poland?”
He saw a curious gleam in Agatha’s eyes, and added in a deprecating manner, “You see, I’ve now and then limped without a dollar into a British Columbian mining town.”
The girl was touched with compassion, but there was another matter that must be mentioned, though she felt that the time was inopportune.
“Miss Rawlinson, who had only a second-class ticket, insists upon being told how it is that she has been transferred to the saloon.”
Wyllard’s eyes twinkled, but she noticed that he was wholly free from embarrassment, which was not quite the case with her.
“Well,” he said, “that’s a matter I must leave you to handle. Anyway, she can’t go second-class now. One or two of the steerage exchanged when they saw their quarters, for which I don’t blame them, and they have filled up every room.”