Eissler. Teacher
crossed to her desk, sat down at it, and commenced to turn the pages of
the Roll Book with listless hand. Mr. Eissler stood beside her, and
behind them both the door of the supply closet in which all class
necessities were stored opened gently, noiselessly, inch by inch, until
the Fire-lighter stood forth with a sheet of sulphur matches in his
hand. The joy of coming vengeance made his little face look very old as
he advanced upon the unsuspecting backs of his enemies. He struck one of
his matches upon some inner surface of his rags, and as Teacher pointed
and Mr. Eissler stopped to examine all the crosses which marked one
section of the Roll Book, the Fire-lighter held the match to the hem of
Miss Bailey's heavy walking skirt. It burned dully, and the child had
shut himself into the closet again before the smell of fire was noticed
and located.

Then alarmed and excited was Mr. Eissler, but not reduced to panic. In a
moment he had smothered the smoulder, and was beating off the sparks
with his ruler.

Miss Bailey just then chanced to turn toward the closet door and saw a
curl of smoke making its way stealthily through a crack in one of the
panels. Mr. Eissler saw it too, threw the door open, and revealed the
lost child--his rags all smoking and smouldering about him. They threw
Miss Bailey's heavy ulster about him, and rolled him upon the floor,
patting and pressing the bundle until they were quite sure that no fire
remained. Then Teacher, kneeling down, turned back the ulster. Very
quiet and relaxed lay her problem.

"Dead?" she questioned in terror.

"Oh, hardly. Slip your hand in over his heart."

Teacher did so and breathed again. "Beating," said she, and withdrew her
hand, and in her cuff-link was entangled a thin string.

"Gold," exclaimed Eissler instantly; "dirty, but gold."

Miss Bailey drew the chain out further and disclosed a flat locket.

"Cut it off and keep it for him," Eissler advised. "I'm going to ring
for the ambulance, and I know that there would be precious little gold
left on him by the time he reached the ward. I'll send one of the women
to you as I go." And so Miss Bailey sat on the floor and regarded this
bitter fruit of her striving. A child--a little child, hunted, wounded,
as far as she could see even unto death. And for the thousandth time she
let despair roll over her. What was the use? What _was_ the use?

Some time later up in the dressing-room she was removin