“That’s all right,” remarked the artist composedly.  “I don’t know that I blame you.  I can see very well the atmosphere is not my atmosphere.  When is the next train back to New York?”

“At four o’clock, I believe.”

“I’ll engage a nice upholstered seat in the smoking car.  But I’ve several hours to loaf, and loafing is my best stunt.  Isn’t this a queer start for girls like you?” looking around the “den” critically.  “I wonder how you got the bug, and what’ll come of it.  It’s so funny to see a newspaper office where everything is brand new, and—­eminently respectable.  Do you mind my lighting a cigarette?  This sort of a deal is quite interesting to an old-timer like me; but perhaps I owe you an apology for intruding.  I had a letter from Tommy and one from a big banker—­Marvin, I guess his name is.”

She drew two letters from her satchel and tossed them on the desk before Patsy.

“They’re no good to me now,” she added.  “Where’s your waste basket?”

The managing editor, feeling embarrassed by the presence of the artist, opened the letters.  The first was from Mr. Marvin, Uncle John’s banker, saying: 

“After much negotiation I have secured for you the best newspaper illustrator in New York, and a girl, too, which is an added satisfaction.  For months I have admired the cartoons signed ‘Het’ in the New York papers, for they were essentially clever and droll.  Miss Hewitt is highly recommended but like most successful artists is not always to be relied upon.  I’m told if you can manage to win her confidence she will be very loyal to you.”

The other letter was from the editor of a great New York journal.  “In giving you Hetty,” he said, “I am parting with one of our strongest attractions, but in this big city the poor girl is rapidly drifting to perdition and I want to save her, if possible, before it is too late.  She has a sweet, lovable nature, a generous heart and a keen intellect, but these have been so degraded by drink and dissipation that you may not readily discover them.  My idea is that in a country town, away from all disreputable companionship, the child may find herself, and come to her own again.  Be patient with her and help her all you can.  Her wonderful talent will well repay you, even if you are not interested in saving one of God’s creatures.”

Silently Patsy passed the letters to Beth and Louise.  After reading them there was a new expression on the faces they turned toward Hetty Hewitt.

“Forgive me,” said Patsy, abruptly.  “I—­I think I misjudged you.  I was wrong in saying what I did.”

“No; you were quite right.”  She sat with downcast eyes a moment, musing deeply.  Then she looked up with a smile that quite glorified her wan face.  “I’d like to stay, you know,” she said humbly.  “I’m facing a crisis, just now, and on the whole I’d rather straighten up.  If you feel like giving me a chance I—­I’d like to see if I’ve any reserve force or whether the decency in me has all evaporated.”