By this time, of course, Joe had grasped the sense of the funny-sounding word. Spirits! Well, he could feed ’em as much as they’d take. “Wuncet,” he resumed solemnly, “things was real bad with me. Malcolm was sick, and had to have the doctor, and the folks he lives with was after me for the two dollars to pay him; and I didn’t have it; and I didn’t dast go to see how he was, wit’out it; and I was near crazy, you bet! And I happened to be goin’ troo Rivington street where the pushcart market is, and they was all kinds of things on the pushcarts that a feller could pick up; hats and fur-pieces and women’s jackets and all; and I made up my mind to snitch a baby’s jacket for Malcolm’s sake. . . .” “But what could you have done with that?” “Oh, there’s places you kin sell them things. There’s plenty bad fellers on the East Side makes a business of it, and they’re allus askin’ yeh to go in wit’ ’em. But I don’t have no truck wit’ ’em.” “Go on!” said both sisters together. “Well, while I was standin’ there waitin’ for the man to turn his back so’s I could prig the jacket, all of a sudden I seen me mutter beside me. She didn’t say nottin’ that time, but she looked real bad. She just took aholt of me and pulled me away from the pushcart. She pulled me around the corner into Ridge street, and down the hill to the church there, and inside the church. It was all dark awmost, except the candles on the altar. And she took holy water, and put it on me—honest, I could feel the very drops! and she made me kneel down beside her, and she prayed to God! to make me a good feller, and keep me from sin. And say, there was all a faint sort of light around her head, like there was a candle behind her head, only there wasn’t no candle. . . .” Mrs. Boardman glanced at her sister a little dubiously, and Joe perceived that he was laying it on too thick. You fool! he said to himself, why can’t you leave a thing lay, when it’s doin’ well. However, he had Miss Gittings locoed with the story. The big grey eyes were full of wonder like a child’s. “Go on!” she said. . . . “Huh?” “Well, when I looked again, she was gone,” said Joe. “But I felt all light, like, inside. I come out of the church, and went right to see the doctor, and when I told him I hadn’t no money, he said sure, he’d go see the kid, as often as would be necessary, and I could pay him when I earned it.” “Fanny,” said Miss Gittings impressively, “we must report this extraordinary case to the circle. . . . Huh? . . . Let scoff who will! . . . We can produce the boy. . . .” “Yes, sister.” The front door opened and closed, and a slender shadow fell in the hall. Joe was instantly all attention. Another member to this household! The whole problem was altered. “Wilfred, come here,” said Miss Gittings. No response. “Wilfred!” she repeated, raising her voice a little.