* * * * * [Illustration: "I'M TOLD SHE'S ALWAYS WRITING TO HER DRESSMAKER ABOUT NEW FROCKS." "I SUPPOSE SHE ENCLOSED A STAMPED AND ADDRESSED ENVELOPE FOR THAT ONE."] * * * * * A CRUSADER. One hears sometimes of pure altruists, but on analysing their purity an alloy is perceptible. Although their work is for others, an element of personal gratification is present. Personal gratification or self-indulgence is of course inevitable; as it can even enter into grief and pain; but now and then it is reduced to a minimum: as, I hold, in the latest activities for her fellow-creatures in which my friend Mrs. Delta has embarked. During the War Mrs. Delta was indefatigable (I am not often sure of my words, but I use this without a tremor of misgiving) in promoting charities and collecting money to sustain them. At no time of day was it safe to meet her, for you had to stand and deliver. There were no privations due to the War which she was not out to mollify or remove, and her ingenuity in discovering worthy objects was uncanny. As, however, War was raging and most people are, underneath, kinder than not, she escaped very severe criticism and amassed some good round sums. And, since all her various Funds had committees and meetings and minutes, Mrs. Delta, although that may have been only the least among her motives, was the recipient of certain expressions of gratitude. Organised charity cannot elude votes of thanks. But that Mrs. Delta likes work for work's sake, apart altogether from honeyed praises, is now beyond question, for the campaign she has just inaugurated is unlikely to yield them. "You must," she said to me yesterday, "give me something for my new scheme." "I hope I shall have enough strength of mind not to; but what is it?" "You have noticed in what a dreadful state so many of the shop windows in London now are?" she asked. "The iniquitous prices of the goods?" "Oh, no; I didn't mean that. I mean the dropped letters. Where they have glass letters stuck on, you know, and some have gone. Surely you must have noticed?" "Yes, of course," I replied; "but I thought the shop-keepers were too lazy or careless to bother. The War has increased carelessness, you know." "No, it isn't that," she said. "The poor fellows are so understaffed and overworked that they can't find time. My idea is to raise a fund so that it can be done for them. My heart aches. Only this morning I saw a barber's with ASH AND RUSH UP on it; and a confectioner's"--she referred to her notebook--"with ICE REAMS, and an undertaker's with PINKING ONE ERE." "What is pinking?" I asked. "I always wanted to know." "And," she continued, again consulting her book, "a tobacconist's with BEST OLDEN VIRGIN , and a dentist's with PA LESS EXTRACTION. Something really must be done. Don't you agree?"