"For some sorts of experimenting it would," Mrs. Roberts answered, smiling quietly; "my experiment, in part at least, was to see how the pink room might impress her."

"Flossy Shipley!"

When Gracie took refuge in that name her hostess knew she was not only much excited, but a trifle disapproving; at such times she made haste to change the subject.

It happened that the thing for which she had been planning, shaped itself so naturally as to give not the slightest color or premeditation to the act.

When Dirk and his sister worked their way through the dense crowds to the open air they discovered that it was raining heavily. For almost the first time in her life the fact struck terror to Mart Colson's soul!

Ordinarily no duck could have been more indifferent to a rain storm than herself. On this evening she gave vent to her dismay in short, expressive words:

"Sallie's bonnet!" "And cape!" This last, after a moment's thought. "And shoes!" she added, as the magnitude of her troubles grew upon her.

Drawn up close to the sidewalk stood a carriage and a pair of horses that Dirk could not help giving admiring attention to, despite the rain.

A fine horse always held his attention. No thought of the occupants of the carriage came to him, not even after a head leaned forward and a hand beckoned; of course it was beckoning to somebody else. Then a clear voice spoke:--

"Mr. Colson!"

He started quickly forward; there was but one person who ever said "Mr.

Colson," and besides, that voice belonged only to one.

"I want your sister to go home with me. It is raining so hard that she ought not to walk, and I should like very much to have her stay with me to-night. Won't you ask her to, please?"

If Mrs. Roberts had been asking a favor, instead of conferring one, her voice could not have been sweeter and more winning.

Dirk went back to his sister, too much bewildered by the state of affairs even to express surprise. "Mart," he said, "she wants you."

A quick spring to the sidewalk, and young Ried was standing beside Mart.

"It is raining so hard," he explained, "Mrs. Roberts would be very glad if you would come."

And Mart, thinking of nothing at all, save Sallie's bonnet and cape and shoes, turned toward the waiting carriage.

Mr. Ried had his umbrella raised, and carefully shielded the bonnet, a.s.sisting its wearer to enter the carriage with as much courtesy as he had bestowed on Gracie Dennis but a few moments before. Not a movement was lost on the watching Dirk.

When the door was closed and the goodnights had been said,--Mrs. Roberts leaning from the carriage again for that purpose,--and when the horses had dashed around the corner, he still occupied his position on the curbstone, gazing down the street, gazing at nothing unless he saw a reflection of his own bewildered thoughts.

"Come!" said a policeman who knew him, and was therefore suspicious, "What are you hanging about here for? Move on!"

"Humph!" said Dirk, as he slowly took his hands out of his pockets, eyes still fixed on the corner where the carriage had turned, "what if I should?"

Something in his eye would have told Mrs. Roberts, had she been there, that he meant more than moving down the street; though that he presently did, regardless of wind and rain.

Meantime the bonnet and cape in the carriage stepped somewhat into the background, and the girl who wore them allowed herself once more to think of her individuality, and to wonder at her position. She sat bolt upright on the edge of the soft, gray seat, and gazed about her as well as she could by the glimmer of the street lamps. She in a carriage! Mart Colson sitting on a back seat, beside a grand lady, and rolling down the avenue! Who would have supposed that such a thing could have happened to Sallie Calkins' bonnet? Mrs. Roberts recognized the bonnet and cape with a smile of satisfaction. She had studied much over the possibilities of this girl's costume. Was it probable that she had anything suitable to wear to a lecture? She had pa.s.sed the cellar where the girl lived but once, and had had but one glimpse of her; yet these glimpses had been enough to render it highly improbable that she had any street costume.

Then, had Mrs. Roberts canva.s.sed the possibilities of getting a street-suit for her, there were apparently insurmountable difficulties in the way. She was too utterly unacquainted with the ground to venture.

Besides, there were reasons for believing that anything of value would find its way from that cellar to a p.a.w.nbroker's in a very short s.p.a.ce of time.

Having spent hours over many different schemes, and rejected each one as liable to bring disaster, Mrs. Roberts was obliged to betake herself to prayer. If the watching Saviour wanted her to work through the medium of this lecture on this particular child of His, He could certainly see that she was present; could furnish her with clothes to wear, either through herself or some other of His servants. She would wait and watch.

Not once had she thought of Sallie Calkins and the new bonnet that her own fingers had helped to fashion; yet here it was beside her on the head of this girl, toward whom she was drawn! The fact made Mrs. Roberts radiant.

She said almost nothing to the startled prisoner at her side, beyond a murmured, "So glad you let me carry you home with me!" Then she drew a bright-colored wrap about her, and left her to her amazement, while the eager tongues of the rest of the party talked continuously.

By the way, you are not acquainted with the pink room, I think? You should see it before it is invaded for the night. Large, it is. I think little people sometimes have a peculiar fondness for large rooms; Mrs. Roberts had. The walls were tinted with what might be called a suggestion of pink, with just a touch of sunset gold about the mouldings.

The carpet was soft and rich; it gave back no sound of footfall. It was strewn with pink buds; some just opening into beauty, some half-blown.

Accustomed to the sight of elegant carpets as you are, you would almost have stooped to pick one of these buds, they looked so real. The curtains to the windows were white, but lined with rose pink; they were looped back with knots of pink ribbons. The bed was a marvel of pink and white drapery; so was the dressing-bureau. The easy-chairs were upholstered in soft grays with a pinkish tinge; and the tidies, lavishly displayed, were all of pink and white. There was nothing conventional about the room. A professional would have been shocked by some of its appointments. Many a lady of wealth, accustomed to having things as "they" decree, would have been more than doubtful over the pink ribbons and the profusion of white drapery. Aside from the carpet, and a choice picture or two, there was nothing especially expensive about the furnishings. It was simply a room in which Mrs. Roberts had allowed her own sweet little fancies to take her captive.

The gas was lighted; the door was ajar into a toilet-room; a lavish display of great, beautiful towels could be seen as you peeped in, and various touches told of an expected guest. Flowers were blossoming on the mantel, and a tiny vase which stood on a bracket near the toilet-stand held a single rose of a peculiar hue and perfume, which had blossomed for this hour. At least, Mrs. Roberts thought so.

Into this room, in all its purity and beauty, went Sallie Calkins'

bonnet and cape and her strong, new, thick shoes; and the wearer thereof pushed the bonnet away from her flushed face, and stood and looked about her.

Down stairs they discussed in curious tones--not her, but the mistress of the mansion.

"Flossy, I do think you are too queer for anything! Why don't you have her go to Katy's room? Katy is away for the night, you know, and I'm sure her room is as neat and pretty as can be. Imagine what a contrast it would be to anything that she has ever seen! Mr. Ried, you ought to see the room into which she has been put. There isn't a more elegant one in the house. Some of its furnishings are so delicate that I hardly like to touch them. What sort of a disease is it that has taken Mrs.

Roberts, do you suppose, to send her there? Flossy, she will get no rest to-night; she will be afraid of that immaculate bed."'

This, of course, was Gracie Dennis.

Mr. Roberts looked from her to his wife,--his face smiling, curious, yet with a sort of at-rest expression.

"What do you hope to accomplish, Flossy?" He asked the question as one who was pleased to watch a new experiment, yet felt sure that the experimenter had an end to attain which would justify any measures that she might take. Mr. Roberts had believed in his wife when he chose her from all others; but he was learning to believe in her in a peculiar sense, as one led by a hand that made no mistakes.

She turned to answer his question; her face bright, yet half puzzled:--

"I am not sure that I can explain to you what I hoped for," she said; "I caught the idea from Mr. Ried."

"From me!" and the young man thus mentioned looked so astonished and incredulous that Gracie laughed.

"He is sure he never thought of anything so wild," she said, gayly.

"Flossy, you must find a better excuse than that."

"Yet it was something that he said. Do you remember telling me, not long ago, about your sister's idea that all the world had lost its place because of sin; that G.o.d intended everything here to be beautiful, and all life to be bright with joy, and that Satan had gotten hold of men's lives, and was trying to ruin them, and that every beautiful creation was G.o.d's picture to the world of what his intention had been? I'm telling it poorly; but it made a very deep impression. This girl's face, you know, is beautiful. It is what G.o.d meant some faces to be; at least, I mean he has given her the frame for a face of beauty. I have a vague, half-understood sort of wish to give her a glimpse of harmony; something that will fit her golden hair and lovely complexion; and see what she will think of G.o.d's idea, and whether she will understand that it is sin which has spoiled it, and whether she is willing to serve the author of her ruin. I don't believe I am making myself plain, but I know what I mean, at least."

"If we do not, I think it must be because you have caught a thought from G.o.d, that we are not able to reach up to."

It was Mr. Roberts who made this reply. Something in his wife's experiment had deeply moved him.

As for Mr. Ried, his face lighted, as it always did, at the mention of his sister's name.

"Sometimes I almost think that it is Ester still at work, and that He lets her work through this woman."

It was what he said to Gracie Dennis in an aside. Mrs. Roberts had already gone to see in person to the comfort of her guest.

CHAPTER XXVI.