No well defined details of methods to be employed could be arranged, but rising very early, Sir Donald rode over to near the Dodge cabin, accompanied by the driver, who was left in charge of the conveyance. By the early move it was likely no one would follow to spy upon his actions.
Knocking at the low door, he hears hurried movements. Soon a blind is pushed slightly aside, and a scared face peers from the narrow opening. Again knocking, there is no response. To allay any possible fears, he gently says:
"Open to a friend of the family!"
There was something in the tone inspiring confidence, and he was timidly admitted. That inquisitive, frightened look confirmed Sir Donald's fears. Taking the proffered stool, he sat down, much embarrassed.
How shall he broach this sensitive subject and wound anew tender sensibilities of the innocent sufferer from the crimes of others?
Sir Donald follows the sense of compassion, which often is the acme of intrinsic craft. Glancing at the poor cot on which a sick girl is lying, he kindly inquires as to her ailment. Learning that it is some sort of low fever, about which the doctor has not expressed any positive opinion, Sir Donald suggests changes involving outlay of money, and says that these will be attended to at once. In apparently offhand manner, an order is written out on an uptown firm for several articles of food, clothing, bedding, and small household furniture. Handing this to the surprised woman, he remarked:
"It's all right—a part of my business."
Noting that the pleased look had been followed by one of uneasy perplexity, he says:
"Perhaps you are a little modest about presenting such an order, or the firm do not know you, Mrs. Dodge?"
The poor woman knows not what reply to make.