“Poor Roux was very sick in March,” continued Muriel, “and has only got to work again recently—so as times are hard with them, mother and I have taken them under our wing.”
“How did you find them out, Muriel?” asked Emily.
“Oh, through Harrington,” answered her friend. “Harrington is the general repository of the grievances and troubles of everybody he falls in with, and when he can’t help, he tells us, and we help. We are a Pardiggle society. He is the President, and mother and I are the Board of Directors.”
“I have a mind to become a member,” said Emily, smilingly. “But where next?”
“Next,” answered Muriel, “I am going to make a call on the Tenehans. That’s an Irish family in North Russell street. Then there is Judith, the sempstress, for whom I have some sewing. Let’s see—that’s all to-day, I believe. Then I’m going to see Captain Greatheart.”
“Who’s that?” interrupted Emily.
“Mr. Parker, of course.”
“Mr. Parker? Pray what entitles a lawyer to that Bunyanesque”—
“A lawyer! Bless me, Emily, where are your five wits! It is the Mr. Parker I mean—Theodore Parker. And is he not a model Captain Greatheart? The nineteenth century Apollyon has reason to know him in that character, at all events. So too have the poor Christians and Christianas, for whom he is guarding shield and smiting sword.”