“I had to,” said Michael desperately. “They needed something and I had to help them!” Up to this point Will French had been sure that Michael had fallen into the hands of a set of sharpers, but something in his companion’s tone made him turn and look, and he saw Michael’s face uplifted in the light of the street lamp, glowing with, a kind of intent earnestness that surprised and awed him. “Look here, man,” he said. “Tell me who they are, and what you are doing, anyway.” Michael told him in a few words, saying little about himself, or his reason for being interested in the alley in the first place. There were a few neglected newsboys, mere kids. He was trying to teach them a few things, reading and figures and a little manual training. Something to make life more than a round of suffering and sin. “Is it settlement work?” asked French. He was puzzled and interested. “No,” explained Michael, “there’s a settlement, but it’s too far away and got too big a district to reach this alley. It’s just my own little work.” “Who pays you for it?” “Who pays me?” “Yes, who’s behind the enterprise? Who forks over the funds and pays you for your job?” Michael laughed long and loud. “Well, now, I hadn’t thought about pay, but I guess the kiddies themselves do. You can’t think how they enjoy it all.” “H’m!” said French, “I think I’ll go along and see how you do it. I won’t scare ’em out, will I?” “Well, now I hadn’t thought of that,” said Michael. “In fact, I didn’t suppose you’d care to go all the way, but if you think you do, I guess it will be all right.” “Not a very warm welcome, I must say,” laughed Will, “but I’m going just the same. You get me in and I’ll guarantee not to scare the crowd. Have any time left over from your studies for amusement? If you do I might come in on that. I can do tricks.” “Can you?” said Michael looking at his unbidden guest doubtfully. “Well, we’ll see. I’m afraid you’ll be disappointed. It’s very informal. Sometimes we don’t get beyond the first step in a lesson. Sometimes I have to stop and tell stories.” “Good!” said Will. “I’d like to hear you.” “Oh, you wouldn’t enjoy it, but there are a few books there. You might read if you get tired looking around the room.” And so Michael and his guest entered the yellow and white room together. Michael lit the gas, and Will looked about blinking in amazement. Coming through the alley to the room had taken away Will’s exclamatory powers and exhausted his vocabulary. The room in its white simplicity, immaculately kept, and constantly in touch with fresh paint to hide any stray finger marks, stood out in startling contrast with the regions round about it. Will took it all in, paint, paper, and pictures. The tiny stove glowing warmly, the improvised seats, the blackboard in the corner, and the bits of life as manifested in geranium, butterfly cocoons and bird’s nests; then he looked at Michael, tall and fine and embarrassed, in the centre of it all.