"It's a mistake, an awful mistake, Mr. Baer," he censured me. "It was the best occasion. You should have taken advantage of the moment. Please return to the house and get their address," he instructed, as he led me to the door.
From the hall I ran out into the street. I wanted fresh air—air and space. And this same Mr. Lawson almost cried when his wife's pet dog died. And Mr. Rogers pitied the poor little bird that picked the putty off the sill. And at charity conventions, when he had to appeal for funds, he almost shed tears about "our unfortunate brothers and sisters." Now they advise, when the father lay dead on the floor: "It was the best occasion. You should have taken advantage of the moment." Would a criminal be treated in this way during the third degree?
The woman died a month after, in a hospital. Hunger and privation of all sorts had undermined her strength. Charity had killed them both.
THE ROLLER SKATES
"Investigate Mrs. B., 124th Street, No. —. Investigator reports woman never home. Questions morality. Urgent. W. L."
I found this slip on my desk one fine morning. An hour after I was at the given address. The door was locked. No one was at home. Inquiry at the neighbours informed me that I would have to wait until three o'clock when the children came from school.
"And Mrs. B.? When does she come?" I asked.
"When the children come from school," I was answered.