A pucker of worry appeared between the girl's frank brows and she fell swiftly to folding and packing the rug.
"If if only he hasn't left the office before I got there!" she doubted.
Mr. Baruch picked up the string and prepared to assist with the packing.
"Perhaps he will not be gone," he said consolingly. "He was so angry I think the paper would be important, and he would stay to find it yes?" Miss Pilgrim did not seem cheered by this supposition. "Well," said Mr. Baruch then, "if it should be a help to you and the poor man, I can take this parcel for you and leave it in the gate of the hospital when I go past this evening."
He had a momentary tremor as he made the proposal, but it was not doubt that it would be accepted or fear lest his purpose should show through it. He felt neither of these; it was the thrill of victory that he had to keep out of his tone and his smile.
For it was victory. Miss Pilgrim beamed at him thankfully.
"Oh, Mr. Baruch, you are kind!" she cried. "I didn't like to ask you, but you must be a thought reader. If you'd just hand it in for Doctor Semianoff, he'll know all about it, and I can get back to Mr. Selby at once. And thank you ever so much, Mr. Baruch!"
"But," protested Mr. Baruch, "it is a little thing—it is nothing.
And it is much pleasure to me to do this for you and the poor man.
Tonight he will have it, and tomorrow perhaps he will be better."
They went down the stairs together and bade each other a friendly good night in the gateway.
"And I'm ever so much obliged to you, Mr. Baruch," said Miss Pilgrim again, her pale face shining in the dusk.