Miss Fairbanks seemed earnest and sincere as she replied:
"I will certainly advise her if she gives me the chance. Poor girl, I am sorry for her, but I doubt if I can save her."
"Then we must all pray that God will do so," whispered Faith, very soberly. "It is a wrong that we will all be held responsible for; to see her going down to destruction and not try to save her!"
Miss Jones wheeled around and went to a customer, but Miss Fairbanks paused and looked at Faith for a moment.
"I would give the world to possess your faith," she said, hesitatingly; "but there's no use—no use—I'm too great a sinner."
There was no chance to reply, for she walked away as she spoke. In a second she was talking to a customer in her usual business-like manner. As Faith turned to look over her stock she heard some one speak.
There was a colored man at her counter holding a letter out toward her.
"Dis yere lettah fo' you, missy," he said, with a wide grin. "Dar ain't no name on it, honey, but I know's yo' face. Yo' is num'er fo' eleben. Reckin ain't no 'stake 'bout it!"
"I am Number 411, certainly," said Faith, politely, "but I can't imagine who would write me a letter; still, if you are sure it's for me, I suppose I must accept."
"Oh, it's fo' you all right," said the negro, decidedly, "fo' de capting p'inted yo' out on de street las' ebenin'."