show you."

He felt in his pockets, I suppose for his check-book,--but could not
find it. Naturally! It evidently wasn't a habit of the pugilist
Robinson to carry about in his hand-me-down suit a check-book carrying
a bank balance of forty or fifty thousand dollars. He was rather put
out at not finding it and felt that she must still consider his
magnificent offer somewhat doubtfully.

"Well, I'll send it to you tomorrow. You'll see if I don't."

The boy was uppermost in him now and I saw the gay flash of her eye
which recognized it--the enthusiast of Horsham Manor who wanted to
help cure the "plague spots."

"I knew it," she laughed at him. "I knew you'd be somebody else if I
only waited long enough. Now you're Prester John and Don Quixote
rolled into one. You propose by the simple process of financing the
operation to turn our slums into Happy Valleys, our missions into
gardens of resurrection. It's a very beautiful purpose, Jerry, quite
worthy of your colorful imagination, but the modern philanthropist
doesn't wed his Danae with a shower of gold. He's discovered that it's
very likely to turn her head."

"But if it's wisely given--" he put in peevishly.

"Oh, wisely! That's just the point."

"It ought not to be so difficult."

She smiled at him soberly.

"Charity isn't merely giving money, Jerry," she said. "Money sometimes
does more harm than good."

"I can't see that."

"It's quite true. We try to keep people from being dependent. What you
propose is a kind of philanthropic chaos. If I used your money as
freely as you would like, it wouldn't be long before half the people
in my district would be living on you--giving nothing--no effort, no
work, no self-respect in return. You don't mind if I say so, but that
sort of thing isn't charity, Jerry. It's merely sentimental tomfoolery
which might by accident do some good, but would certainly do much
harm."

Jerry's eyes opened wide as he listened. She was frank enough, but I
couldn't help admitting to myself that she was quite wise. Jerry was
discovering that it wasn't so easy to help as he had supposed.
Whatever he may have thought of her theories of social science, he
made no comment upon them.

"Then you won't let me help you?" he asked quite meekly, for Jerry.

"Oh, no," she smiled coolly. "I didn't say that. I was merely trying
to show you what the difficulties are. We're very glad to get
voluntary contributions when we're sure just what we can do w