o the city. I must go and
do it alone. Our accounts are flourishing, I'm glad to say, though we
cannot yet afford to pay for a secretary, and we want one. John and I
verified them last night. We're aiming at steam, you know. In three or
four years we may found a steam laundry on our accumulated capital. If
only we can establish it on a scale to let us give employment to at least
as many women as we have working now! That is what I want to hear of. But
if we wait for a great rival steam laundry to start ahead of us, we shall
be beaten and have to depend on the charitable sentiments of rich people
to support the Institution. And that won't do. So it's a serious question
with us to think of taking the initiative: for steam must come. It 's a
scandal every day that it doesn't while we have coal. I'm for grand
measures. At the same time we must not be imprudent: turning off hands,
even temporarily, that have to feed infants, would be quite against my
policy.'
Her age struck Patrick as being about twenty-three.
'Could my nephew Arthur be of any use to you?' said Mrs. Adister.
'Colonel Adister?' Miss Mattock shook her head. 'No.'
'Arthur can be very energetic when he takes up a thing.' 'Can he? But,
Mrs. Adister, you are looking a little troubled. Sometimes you confide in
me. You are so good to us with your subscriptions that I always feel in
your debt.'
Patrick glanced at his hostess for a signal to rise and depart.
She gave none, but at once unfolded her perplexity, and requested Miss
Mattock to peruse the composition of Mr. Patrick O'Donnell and deliver an
opinion upon it.
The young lady took the letter without noticing its author. She read it
through, handed it back, and sat with her opinion evidently formed
within.
'What do you think of it?' she was asked.
'Rank jesuitry,' she replied.
'I feared so!' sighed Mrs. Adister. 'Yet it says everything I wish to
have said. It spares my brother and it does not belie me. The effect of a
letter is often most important. I cannot but consider this letter very
ingenious. But the moment I hear it is jesuitical I forswear it. But then
my dilemma remains. I cannot consent to give pain to my brother Edward:
nor will I speak an untruth, though it be to save him from a wound. I am
indeed troubled. Mr. Patrick, I cannot consent to despatch a jesuitical
letter. You are sure of your impression, my dear Jane?'
'Perfectly,' said Miss Mattock.
Patrick leaned to her. 'But
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