'We can't afford to "put aside" the elevating influence of music.' Mrs. Heriot spoke with some asperity. 'What we must make for, first, is the cheap and humanely conducted lodging-house.' 'There are several of those already; but poor St. Pilgrim's----' 'There are none for the poorest women,' said Miss Levering. 'No; even the excellent Barlow was for multiplying Rowton Houses. You can never get men to realize--you can't always get women----' 'It's the work least able to wait,' said Miss Levering. 'I don't agree with you,' Mrs. Heriot bridled, 'and I happen to have spent a great deal of my life in works of charity.' 'Ah, then,'--Miss Levering lifted her eyes from the map to Mrs. Heriot's face--'you'll be interested in the girl I saw dying in a tramp ward a little while ago. _Glad_ her cough was worse, only she mustn't die before her father. Two reasons. Nobody but her to keep the old man out of the workhouse, and "father is so proud." If she died first, he would starve--worst of all, he might hear what had happened up in London to his girl.' With an air of profound suspicion, Mrs. Heriot interrupted-- 'She didn't say, I suppose, how she happened to fall so low?' 'Yes, she did. She had been in service. She lost the train back one Sunday night, and was too terrified of her employer to dare to ring him up after hours. The wrong person found her crying on the platform.' 'She should have gone to one of the Friendly Societies.' 'At eleven at night?' 'And there are the Rescue Leagues. I myself have been connected with one for twenty years----' 'Twenty years!' echoed Miss Levering. 'Always arriving "after the train's gone,"--after the girl and the wrong person have got to the journey's end.' Mrs. Heriot's eyes flashed, but before she could speak Jean asked-- 'Where is she now?' 'Never mind.' Lady John turned again to the plan. 'Two nights ago she was waiting at a street corner in the rain. 'Near a public-house, I suppose?' Mrs. Heriot threw in. 'Yes; a sort of public-house. She was plainly dying. She was told she shouldn't be out in the rain. "I mustn't go in yet," she said. "_This_ is what he gave me," and she began to cry. In her hand were two pennies silvered over to look like half-crowns.' 'I don't believe that story!' Mrs. Heriot announced. 'It's just the sort of thing some sensation-monger trumps up. Now, who tells you these----?' 'Several credible people. I didn't believe them till----' 'Till?' Jean came nearer. 'Till I saw for myself.' '_Saw?_' exclaimed Mrs. Heriot. 'Where----?' 'In a low lodging-house not a hundred yards from the church you want a new organ for.' 'How did _you_ happen to be there?' 'I was on a pilgrimage.' 'A pilgrimage?' echoed Jean. Miss Levering nodded. 'Into the Underworld.' '_You_ went!' Even Lady John was aghast. 'How could you?' Jean whispered.