Miss Vane gave way again, and Sewell sat regarding her ruefully.
“What do you expect me to do?” She looked at him over her handkerchief, which she kept pressed against her mouth.
“I haven't the least idea what I expected you to do. I expected you to tell me. You have an inventive mind.”
Miss Vane shook her head. Her eyes grew serious, and after a moment she said, “I'm afraid I'm not equal to Lemuel Barker. Besides,” she added, with a tinge of trouble, “I have my problem, already.”
“Yes,” said the minister sympathetically. “How has the flower charity turned out?”
“She went yesterday with one of the ladies, and carried flowers to the city hospital. But she wasn't at all satisfied with the result. She said the patients were mostly disgusting old men that hadn't been shaved. I think that now she wants to try her flowers on criminals. She says she wishes to visit the prisons.”
Sewell brightened forlornly. “Why not let her reform Barker?”
This sent Miss Vane off again. “Poor boy!” she sighed, when she had come to herself. “No, there's nothing that I can do for him, except to order some firewood from his benefactors.”
“I did that,” said Sewell. “But I don't see how it's to help Barker exactly.”
“I would gladly join in a public subscription to send him home. But you say he won't go home?”