doubtedly made every effort and
saw everybody worth seeing."

"But in twenty years," suggested Eloise, hopefully. "Think of all the
progress that has been made in twenty years."

"I know," said Allan, doubtfully. "All we can do is to see. And if
anything can be done for them, why, of course we'll do it."

"Then we'll go for a little drive," she said, "and on our way back, we
can stop there and get the things I bought the other day. They have no
one to send with them, and it's too much for one person to carry,
anyway."

"I suppose she has sold everything she had," mused Allan impersonally.

"Not quite," answered Eloise, flushing. "I left her some samples for the
Woman's Exchange."

"Very kind," he observed, with the same air of detachment. "I can see my
finish. My wife will have so much charity work for me to do that there
will be no time for anything else, and, in a little while, she will have
given away all the money we both have. Then when we're sitting together
in the sun on the front steps of the poorhouse, we can fittingly lament
the end of our usefulness."

[Sidenote: Policy of Segregation]

"They won't let us sit together," she retorted. "Don't you know that
even in the old people's homes they keep the men and women
apart--husbands and wives included?"

"For the love of Mike, what for?" he asked, in surprise.

"Because it makes the place too gay and frivolous. Old ladies of eighty
were courted by awkward swains of ninety and more, and there was so much
checker-playing in the evening and so many lights burning, and so many
requests for new clothes, that the management couldn't stand it. There
were heart-burnings and jealousies, too, so they had to adopt a policy
of segregation."

"'Hope springs eternal in the human breast,'" quoted Allan.

"And love," she said. "I've thought sometimes I'd like to play fairy
godmother to some of those poor, desolate old people who love each
other, and give them a pretty wedding. Wouldn't it be dear to see two
old people married and settled in a little home of their own?"

"Or, more likely, with us," he returned. "I've been thinking about a
nice little house with a guest room or two, but I've changed my mind. My
vote is for a very small apartment. You're not the sort to be trusted
with a guest room."

[Sidenote: Starting Off]

Eloise laughed and sprang to her feet. "On to the errand of mercy," she
said. "We're wasting valuable time. Get a horse and buggy and I'll