“Well, then, good-bye, for the present,” said Sewell, and after speaking again to the manager, and gratefully ordering some kindling which he did not presently need, he went out, and took his way homeward. But he stopped half a block short of his own door, and rang at Miss Vane's. To his perturbed and eager spirit, it seemed nothing short of a divine mercy that she should be at home. If he had not been a man bent on repairing his wrong at any cost to others, he would hardly have taken the step he now contemplated without first advising with his wife, who, he felt sure, would have advised against it. His face did not brighten at all when Miss Vane came briskly in, with the “_How_ d'ye do?” which he commonly found so cheering. She pulled up the blind and saw his knotted brow. “What is the matter? You look as if you had got Lemuel Barker back on your hands.” “I have,” said the minister briefly. Miss Vane gave a wild laugh of delight. “You _don't_ mean it!” she sputtered, sitting down before him, and peering into his face. “What _do_ you mean?” Sewell was obliged to possess Miss Vane's entire ignorance of all the facts in detail. From point to point he paused; he began really to be afraid she would do herself an injury with her laughing. She put her hand on his arm and bowed her head forward, with her face buried in her handkerchief. “What--what--do you suppose-pose--they did with the po-po-_po_em they stole from him?” “Well, one thing I'm sure they _didn't_ do,” said Sewell bitterly. “They didn't _read_ it.” Miss Vane hid her face in her handkerchief, and then plucked it away, and shrieked again. She stopped, with the sudden calm that succeeds such a paroxysm, and, “Does Mrs. Sewell know all about this?” she panted. “She knows everything, except my finding him in the dish-washing department of the Wayfarer's Lodge,” said Sewell gloomily, “and my coming to you.” “Why do you come to me?” asked Miss Vane, her face twitching and her eyes brimming. “Because,” answered Sewell, “I'd rather not go to her till I have done something.” Miss Vane gave way again, and Sewell sat regarding her ruefully. “What do you expect me to do?” She looked at him over her handkerchief, which she kept pressed against her mouth. “I haven't the least idea what I expected you to do. I expected you to tell me. You have an inventive mind.” Miss Vane shook her head. Her eyes grew serious, and after a moment she said, “I'm afraid I'm not equal to Lemuel Barker. Besides,” she added, with a tinge of trouble, “I have _my_ problem, already.” “Yes,” said the minister sympathetically. “How has the flower charity turned out?” “She went yesterday with one of the ladies, and carried flowers to the city hospital. But she wasn't at all satisfied with the result. She said the patients were mostly disgusting old men that hadn't been shaved. I think that now she wants to try her flowers on criminals. She says she wishes to visit the prisons.”