“I was coming out to see you, believe me, I was. I was thinking all along how I could straighten this matter out. And now you come. But what’s the trouble?”
He held her at arm’s length and studied her distressed face. The fresh beauty of her seemed to him like cut lilies wet with dew.
He felt a great surge of tenderness.
“I have something to ask you,” she at last brought herself to say. “My brother is in jail. We need ten dollars to get him out, and I didn’t know where else to go.”
“My poor child!” he said, chafing her hands. “Where else should you go? Haven’t I told you always to come to me? Don’t you know, Jennie, I would do anything in the world for you?”
“Yes,” she gasped.
“Well, then, don’t worry about that any more. But won’t fate ever cease striking at you, poor child? How did your brother come to get in jail?”
“They caught him throwing coal down from the cars,” she replied.
“Ah!” he replied, his sympathies touched and awakened. Here was this boy arrested and fined for what fate was practically driving him to do. Here was this girl pleading with him at night, in his room, for what to her was a great necessity—ten dollars; to him, a mere nothing. “I will arrange about your brother,” he said quickly. “Don’t worry. I can get him out in half an hour. You sit here now and be comfortable until I return.”
He waved her to his easy-chair beside a large lamp, and hurried out of the room.