"I think that the opinion is very far from universal," the elder lady remarked, firmly. "There appears to be no discrimination shown whatever in the distribution of relief. The deserving and the undeserving are all classed together. I could not possibly approve of any charity conducted upon such lines, nor, I think, could any good churchwoman."

"Mr. Brooks thinks," Sybil remarked, with her mouth full of cake, "that it is the undeserving who are in the greatest need of help."

"One could believe anything," the bishop's wife said stiffly, "of a man who adopted such principles as that. And although I do not as a rule approve of Mr. Lavilette or his paper, I am seriously inclined to agree with him in some of his strictures upon Mr. Brooks."

Sybil laughed softly.

"I hadn't read them," she remarked. "Mother doesn't allow the man's paper in the house. Do you really mean that you have it at the palace, Mrs. Endicott?"

The bishop's wife stiffened.

"Mr. Lavilette has at times done great service to the community by his exposure of frauds of all sorts, especially charitable frauds," she said. "It is possible that he may shortly add to the number."

Lord Arranmore shook his head slowly.

"Mr. Lavilette," he said, "has also had to pay damages in one or two rather expensive libel cases. And, between you and me, Mrs. Endicott, if our young friend Brooks chose to move in the matter, I am afraid Mr.

Lavilette might have to sign the largest cheque he has ever signed in his life for law costs."

The bishop's wife rose with an icy smile.

"I seem to have found my way into Mr. Brooks' headquarters," she remarked. "Lady Caroom, I shall hope to see you at the palace shortly."

"Poor me," Sybil exclaimed, as their visitor departed. "She only asked you, mummy, so as to exclude me. And poor Mr. Brooks! I wish he'd been here. What fun we should have had."

"Oh, these Etrusians," Lord Arranmore murmured. "I thought that a bishop was very near heaven indeed, all sanctity and charity, and that a bishop's wife was the concentrated essence of these things--plus the wings."

Sybil laughed softly.

"Sanctity and charity," she repeated, "and Mrs. Endicott. Oh!"

CHAPTER VI

THE RESERVATION OF MARY SCOTT

The two girls were travelling westwards on the outside of an omnibus, in itself to Sybil a most fascinating mode of progression, and talking a good deal spasmodically.

"It's really too bad of you, Miss Scott," Sybil declared. "Now to-day, if you will come, luncheon shall be served in my own room. We shall be quite cosy and quiet, and I promise you that you shall not see a soul except my mother--whom I want you to know."

Mary shook her head.

"Don't think me unkind," she said. "I really must not begin visiting.

I have only just time for a hurried lunch, and then I must look in at the office and get down to Bermondsey."

"You might just as well have that hurried lunch with me," Sybil declared. "I'll send you anywhere you like afterwards in the carriage."

"It is very kind of you," Mary answered, "but my visiting days are over.

I am not a social person at all, you know. My role is usefulness, and nothing else."

"You are too young to talk like that," Sybil said. "I am ten years older than you are," Mary reminded her. "You are twenty-eight," Sybil answered. "I think it is beautiful of you to be so devoted to this work, but I am quite sure a little change now and then is wholesome."

"In another ten years I may think of it," Mary said. "Just now I have so much upon my hands that I dare not risk even the slightest distraction."

"In another ten years," Sybil said, "you will find it more difficult to enlarge your life than now. I can't believe that absorption in any one thing is natural at your age."

Mary looked steadfastly down at the horses.

"We must all decide what is best for ourselves," she said. "I have not your disposition, remember."

"Nothing in the world," Sybil said, "would convince me that it is well for any girl of your age to crowd everything out of her life except work, however fine and useful the work may be. Now you have admitted that except for Mr. Brooks and the people you have met in connection with his work you have no friends in London. I want you to count me a friend, Miss Scott. You have been very kind to me, and made everything delightfully easy. Why can't you let me try and repay it a little?"

"I have only done my duty," Mary answered, quietly. "I am supposed to show new helpers what to do, and you have picked it up very quickly. And as for the rest--don't think me unkind, but I have no room for friendships in my life just now."

"I am sorry," Sybil answered, softly, for though Mary's tone had been cold enough, she had nevertheless for a single moment lifted the curtain, and Sybil understood in some vague manner that there were things behind into which she had no right to inquire.

The two girls parted at Trafalgar Square, and Sybil, still in love with the fresh air, turned blithely westward on foot. In the Haymarket she came face to face with Brooks.

He greeted her with a delightful smile.

"You alone, and walking," he exclaimed. "What fortune. May I come?"

"Of course," she answered. "You know where I have come from, I suppose?"

He glanced at her plain clothes and realized that the odour of disinfectants was stronger even than the perfume of the handful of violets which she had just bought from a woman in the street.

"Stepney!" he exclaimed.

"Quite right. I had a card last evening, and was there at nine o'clock this morning. I suppose I look a perfect wreck. I was dancing at Hamilton House at three o'clock."

He looked towards her marvelling. Her cheeks were prettily flushed, and she walked with the delightful springiness of perfect health.

"I have never seen you look better," he answered.

"And you," she remarked, glancing in amusement at his blue serge clothes, which, to tell the truth, badly needed brushing. "What are you doing in the West End at this time in the morning?

"I have been to Drury Lane," he answered, "with some surveyors from the County Council. There is a whole court there I mean to get condemned.

Then I looked in at our new place there, but there was such a howling lot of children that I was glad to get away. How they hate being washed!"

"Don't they!" she exclaimed, laughing. "I had the dearest, naughtiest little girl this morning, and, do you know, when I got her clean, her own brothers and sisters didn't know her again. I'm so glad I've seen you, Mr. Brooks. I want to ask you something." "Well?"

"About Miss Scott. She's been so good to me, and I like her awfully.

We've just come up on the omnibus together."

"She has been my right hand from the very first," Brooks said, slowly.

"I really don't see how I could have done without her. She is such a capital organizer, too."

"I know all that," Sybil declared. "She's wonderful. I don't want, of course, to be inquisitive," she went on, after a moment's hesitation, "but she interests me so much, and it was only this morning that I felt that I understood her a little bit."