Joe, his hair well slicked down, had the air of being established in the house, and he knew it. He kept his eyes lowered so as not to betray his satisfaction. Handling the old maid was as easy as eating pie. She could take any amount of soft sawder. On a stand beside the sofa was a vase containing three damaged pink roses, wired to their stems. Every now and then she glanced at them with a softened look. The other sister was in and out of the room. The one was called Miss May Gittings; the other, Mrs. Fanny Boardman. Miss Gittings continued, her hazy grey eyes shining on something far away: “Sympathy; understanding; encouragement; that is the message I try to . . . Huh? And plain sewing . . . oh, dear! they seem to have no womanly feeling for the needle. . . . The worst of misfortune is, it breeds a callous spirit. . . . I don’t know. . . . When they jeer at me I tell myself it is but the anguish of their souls peeping out. Every Thursday I find it harder and harder to work myself up to . . . Ah, yes! . . . Poor dear girls. . . . Huh? . . .” “If I was there, I’d learn them!” said Joe doubling his fist. “Oh, Joe! you wouldn’t hit a girl . . . !” “Of course I wouldn’t _hit_ them,” he said quickly. “But I’d give ’em a good layin’ out.” “No, you can’t do away with poverty!” said Miss Gittings. “There’s one or two of them _would_ be the better for a good whipping. . . . Huh? . . . The great thing is to teach the poor to be more spiritual-minded. . . . They chew gum with their mouths open. They know it annoys me. . . . Huh? . . . So they can trample on the ills of the flesh. We are all equal sharers in the things of the spirit. . . . And I know some of them smoke cigarettes. . . . Huh?” “You talk beautiful,” murmured Joe. “I can talk to you. You’re the first poor person that ever understood me. . . . Huh? . . . You’re only a boy, but you’ve been through the fire. . . . You should say: ‘Talk beautifully’. . . . And your spirit is refined like. . . . Huh? . . . whatever shortcomings your exterior . . . but that’s not your fault. . . .” * * * * * Mrs. Boardman was a more practical-minded person than her sister—but not much more. She had an easy-going sensible look. She had been married only three months, and that twenty years ago, Joe had learned, but the experience, brief as it was, apparently enabled her to keep her feet on the ground, while the sister, who had never known a man, pursued her batlike flights through the air. But a funny thing was, as Joe was quick to see, the batty one was the leading spirit of the two. Apparently there was more force in her notions than in the other’s commonsense. Mrs. Boardman followed contentedly wherever Miss Gittings led. Therefore, if you made yourself solid with the old maid, you would be all right with the widow.