The private appeals were of great variety. "Cobbler" Horn was amazed to find how many people were at the point of despair for want of just the help that he was able to give. It was past belief how large a number of persons he had the opportunity of saving from ruin, and with how small a sum of money, in each case, it might be done. What a manifold disclosure of human misery and despair those letters were, or seemed to be! Some of them, doubtless, had been written with breaking hearts, and punctuated with tears; but which? "I had no idea there was so much trouble in the world!" cried "Cobbler" Horn, in dismay. "Perhaps there is not quite so much as your letters seem to imply, sir," suggested the secretary. "You think not?" queried "Cobbler" Horn. "I feel sure of it," said the young girl, with a knowing shake of her head. "But we must do our best to discriminate. I should throw some of these letters into the fire at once, if I were you, Mr. Horn." "But they must be answered first!" "Must they, sir? Every one?" enquired the secretary, arching her dark eye-brows. "Why it will cost you a small fortune in stamps, Mr. Horn!" "But you forget how rich I am, Miss Owen. And I would rather be cheated a thousand times, than withhold, in a single instance, the help I ought to give." "Well, Mr. Horn, I'm your secretary, and must obey your commands, whether I approve of them or not." She spoke with a merry trill of laughter; and "Cobbler" Horn, far from being offended, shot back upon her a beaming smile. They took the letters as they came. Concerning some of the applications, "Cobbler" Horn felt quite able to decide himself. Appeals from duly-accredited philanthropic institutions received from him a liberal response, and so large were some of the amounts that the young secretary felt constrained to remonstrate. "You forget," he replied, "how much money I've got." "But--excuse me, sir--you seem resolved to give it all away!" "Yes, almost," was the calm reply. There was but little difficulty, moreover, in dealing with the applications on behalf of local interests. It was the private appeals which afforded most trouble. Every case had to be strenuously debated with Miss Owen, who maintained that not one of these importunate correspondents ought to be assisted, until "Cobbler" Horn had satisfied himself that the case was one of actual necessity, and real merit. By dint of great persistency, she succeeded in convincing her employer that many of these private appeals were not worthy of a moment's consideration. To each of the writers of these a polite note of refusal was to be despatched. With regard to the rest, it was decided that an application for references should be made. "I shall have to be your _woman_ of business, Mr. Horn," said Miss Owen, "as well as your secretary; and, between us, I think we can manage." She felt that there was a true Christian work for her in doing what she could to help this poor embarrassed Christian man of wealth.