"Whatever in the world can she--" H. R. caught himself in time. He
nearly had reduced himself to the level of humanity--well called dead
level--by confessing ignorance aloud.

"Mrs. Goodchild is at 'ome, sir!" suggested Frederick, ingratiatingly.

"Damned good place for her!" muttered H. R., savagely, and gave
Frederick a five-dollar gold piece. In some respects, Frederick
admitted, America was ahead of the old country.

H. R. walked away frowning fiercely. He went nearly a block before he
smiled. Love always interferes with the chemistry of the stomach and
hits the brain through the toxins. What an ass he was not to have
realized the truth on the instant:

_Grace had run away from him!_

He returned to his office and told Andrew Barrett to set the Public
Sentiment Corps at work on the thirty-eight models he had prepared. Then
he wrote forty-two more. The consciousness of Grace's confessed weakness
gave him an eloquence he himself had never before known. They were
masterpieces.

The newspapers always know they have made a bull's-eye when they get
letters from their readers. It is an obvious fact that a man who writes
is a steady customer--at least, until his communication is printed.

The Public Sentiment Corps merely started the ball rolling. An avalanche
of letters from all sorts and conditions of men, women, and merchants
descended upon the editorial offices.

It became clear, even to the newspapers, that people in New York were
willing to give, but they didn't know how. The papers, therefore,
announced that they would thereafter run Charity as a regular
department. It would be strictly non-sectarian. The world's greatest
authorities and most eminent philanthropists had been asked to
contribute--not money; articles. The _World_ printed a full-page
biography of St. Vincent de Paul and satanically invited some of its pet
aversions to send in their autobiographies.

All the papers informed the charitable men and women of New York that
checks, clothing, supplies, etc., could be sent to the Charity editor.

All the papers, also, invited H. R. to accept the editorship of the
page. His duties would consist of allowing his name to be printed at the
top of the page.

He declined their offers with profound regret, but promised to give
interviews to the reporters whenever they wished. Personal matters
precluded his acceptance of their kind invitations.

The personal matters consisted of the boom in sandwich ad