hought. Isn't that what Zura says? Page Hanaford is no more the
man wanted for borrowing that bank's money than I am a fashion plate
wanted in Paris." Her words were light, but very sure.

Her apparent levity irritated me. "How do you know? What are you saying,
Jane?" I asked sharply.

"Oh, I just have a feeling that way. Page is too good-looking," answered
my companion.

"For the love of heaven, Jane Gray, that's no reason. Good looks don't
keep a man from sin."

"Maybe not, but they help; and Page loves poetry too," she ended with
quiet stubbornness. Then after a pause: "That program did not say what
particular thing our boy was wanted for, did it?" Neither in joy nor
sorrow did Jane's talent desert her for misusing words.

"No, the circular did not state the details. But if you think there is
any mistake about the whole thing go to the room and look at that
policeman pacing up and down before the door. And if you think the boy's
not desperately ill, look inside and see those two doctors and that
speck of a trained nurse watching his every breath. You can read the
paper yourself, if you don't believe me."

"Miss Jenkins, don't pin your faith to a program; they tell awful fibs.
Once I wrote one myself for a meeting and I said, 'The audience will
remain standing while collection is taken,' and it made me say: 'The
remains of the audience will be collected while standing.'"

"How can you?" I asked. Hot tears stung my eyes.

Instantly Jane was by my side. "How can I? Because it's best never to
believe anything you hear and only half of what you see. I know the
dear boy is ill. But he's not guilty. The idea of that sweet boy, with
such a nice mouth and teeth, doing anything dishonorable! It's all a
mistake. I know guilt when I see it, and Page hasn't a feature of it."

Jane Gray exasperated me to the verge of hysteria, but her sure, simple
faith had built a hospital and changed the criminal record of a city.
The thought that she might be right, in spite of the circular and Kobu,
gave me so much comfort that the tears flowed unchecked.

My companion looked at me critically for a moment, then left the room.
She returned shortly bearing a heaped-up tray, which she arranged before
me. "Honey, you can't be hopeful when you are hungry. You told me so
yourself. I don't believe you've eaten since morning. Here's just a
little bite of turkey and mince pie and chicken salad. Eat it. There's
plenty more, for nobody's touch