“Into our hands hath it been given to settle the course of the world.”—Shah Nameh, Firdausi.
We were a committee—the Doctor, Janet, the Altruist, and I—to consider what could be done for the women and girls in Brand Street. The Altruist wished us to undertake some work in connection with Barnet House.
We sat round the table in the parlour of my boarding-house. The cloth had been removed. A block of paper and a pencil lay in front of each of us, ready for taking notes.
“I like the way we have,” said Janet, who looked the incarnation of the spirit of mischief, “of trying to teach other people how to live because we do not know how ourselves.”
“You and I have not erred very deeply in that way, Janet,” said the Doctor, drily. “You must not accuse yourself where you do not deserve it.”
The Altruist looked impatient. “We want to consider,” he said, “how we can help our friends in Brand Street. We must begin at once. I have an appointment at four.”
“Another lecture?” asked Janet.
“Yes,” answered the Altruist, wearily. “I get invitations almost every day to lecture on life in the slums.”
“Paul,” said Janet, solemnly, though her eyes were dancing, “you will be talking in the park next on Sunday afternoons, and we will all come and stand with the crowd to listen to you.”
“Perhaps I shall,” said the Altruist. “If it is necessary to convince the working-man of my sympathy, I shall be glad to do it. I should like to see my up-town friends standing side by side with my neighbours from the slums. Only,” he added thoughtfully, “I doubt if my voice could carry. I have said definitely that I will not speak to more than three thousand people. And in the open air—”