ce at my disposal would be much
valued, and we should take especial pains to put your case fairly before
the public."

Brooks smiled.

"Really," he said, "it seems as though I were on my defence."

The reporter took out his pencil.

"Well, you know," he said, "some of the established charitable
institutions are rather conservative, and they look upon you as an
interloper, and your methods as a little too broad."

"Well," Brooks said, "if it is to be war between us and the other
charitable institutions you name, I am ready for it, but I cannot talk
to you now. As you see, I have an evening's work before me."

"When can you spare me half-an-hour, sir?"

"At midnight--my rooms, in, Jermyn Street."

The reporter closed his book.

"I don't wish to waste your time, sir," he answered. "If you are not
going to say anything to the others before then I will go away."

Brooks nodded. The reporters whispered together.

"May we stay and watch for a few minutes?" one of them asked.

Brooks agreed, and went on with his work. Once more the human flotsam
and jetsam, worthy and unworthy, laid bare the sore places in their
lives, sometimes with the smooth tongue of deceit, sometimes with the
unconscious eloquence of suffering long pent up. One by one they found
their way into Brooks' ledgers as cases to be reckoned out and solved.
And meanwhile nearly all of them found some immediate relief, passing
out into the night with footsteps a little less shuffling, and hearts a
little lighter. The night's work was a long one. It was eleven o'clock
before Brooks left his seat with a little gesture of relief and lit a
cigarette.

"I must go and get something to eat," he said. "Will you come Miss
Scott?"

She shook her head.

"I have to make out a list of things we want for my department," she
said. "Last night they were nearly all women here. Don't bother about
me. Mr. Flitch will put me in an omnibus at London Bridge. You must
see those reporters. You've read the evening papers, haven't you?"

Brooks nodded.

"Yes. I knew we should have opposition. This isn't even the beginning
of it. It won't hurt us."

Nevertheless Brooks was anxious to be properly understood, and he talked
for a long time with the reporter, whom he found awaiting him in Jermyn
Street--a pleasant young fellow just back from the war, with the easy
manner and rattling conversation of his order.

"You ought to call in and have a chat with the chief, Mr. Bro