It was her business to adjust the lives of children—­which meant that she adjusted their parents’ lives also.  She arranged the disarranged; played the providential part, exercising the powers of intervention which in past times belonged to the priest, but which, in the days of commercial feudalism, devolve upon the social workers.

Her work carried her into the lowest strata of society, and her compassion, her efficiency, and her courage were daily called upon.  Perhaps she might have found herself lacking in the required measure of these qualities, being so young and inexperienced, had it not been that she was in a position to concentrate completely upon her task.  She knew how to listen and to learn; she knew how to read and apply.  She went into her new work with a humble spirit, and this humility offset whatever was aggressive and militant in her.  The death of her mother and the aloofness of her father had turned all her ardors back upon herself.  They found vent now in her new work, and she was not long in perceiving that she needed those whom she was called upon to serve quite as much as they needed her.

Mrs. Barsaloux and Marna Carton, who had been shopping, met Kate one day crossing the city with a baby in her arms and two miserable little children clinging to her skirts.  Hunger and neglect had given these poor small derelicts that indescribable appearance of depletion and shame which, once seen, is never to be confused with anything else.

“My goodness!” cried Mrs. Barsaloux, glowering at Kate through her veil; “what sort of work is this you are doing, Miss Barrington?  Aren’t you afraid of becoming infected with some dreadful disease?  Wherever do you find the fortitude to be seen in the company of such wretched little creatures?  I would like to help them myself, but I’d never be willing to carry such filthy little bags of misery around with me.”

Kate smiled cheerfully.

“We’ve just put their mother in the Bridewell,” she said, “and their father is in the police station awaiting trial.  The poor dears are going to be clean for once in their lives and have a good supper in the bargain.  Maybe they’ll be taken into good homes eventually.  They’re lovely children, really.  You haven’t looked at them closely enough, Mrs. Barsaloux.”

“I’m just as close to them as I want to be, thank you,” said the lady, drawing back involuntarily.  But she reached for her purse and gave Kate a bill.

“Would this help toward getting them something?” she asked.

Marna laughed delightedly.

“I’m sure they’re treasures,” she said.  “Mayn’t I help Miss Barrington take them to wherever they’re going, tante?  I shan’t catch a thing, and I love to know what becomes of homeless children.”

Kate saw a look of acute distress on Mrs. Barsaloux’s face.

“This isn’t your game just now, Miss Cartan,” Kate said in her downright manner.  “It’s mine.  I’m moving my pawns here and there, trying to find the best places for them.  It’s quite exhilarating.”