Rose-Marie, telling herself how much the death of Pa was going to benefit the Volsky family, felt all at once heartless.  She had been brought up in an atmosphere where death carries sorrow with it—­deep sorrow and sanctity.  She remembered the dim parlours of the little town when there was a funeral—­she remembered the singing of the village choir and the voice of the pastor, slightly unsteady, perhaps, but very confident of the life hereafter.  She remembered the flowers, and the mourners in their black gowns, and the pure tears of grief.  She had always seen folk meet death so—­meet it rather beautifully.

But the passing of Pa!  She shuddered to think of its cold cruelty—­it was rather like his life.  He had been snuffed out—­that was all—­snuffed out!  There would be for him no dim parlour, no singing choir, no pastor with an unsteady voice.  The black-robed mourners would be absent, and so would the flowers.  His going would cause not a ripple in the life of the community—­it would bring with it better opportunities for his family, rather than a burden of sorrow!

“I can’t grieve for him!” Rose-Marie told herself desperately.  “I can’t grieve for him!  It’s the only chance he ever gave to his children—­dying!  Perhaps, without him, they’ll be able to make good....”

She was crossing the park—­splashed with sunshine, it was.  And suddenly she remembered the first time that she had met Bennie in the park.  It seemed centuries away, that first meeting!  She remembered how she had been afraid, then, of the crowds.  Now she walked through them with a certain assurance—­she belonged.  She had come a long distance since that first meeting with Bennie—­a very long distance!  She told herself that she had proved her ability to cope with circumstance—­had proved her worth, almost.  Why, now, should the Superintendent keep her always in the shadow of the Settlement House—­why should the Young Doctor laugh at her desire to help people?  She had something to show them—­she could flaunt Bennie before their eyes, she could quote the case of Ella; she could produce Mrs. Volsky, broken of spirit but ready to do anything that she could.  And—­last but not least—­she would show Lily to them, Lily who had been hidden away from the eyes of the ones who could help her—­Lily who so desperately needed help!

All at once Rose-Marie was weary of deceit.  She would be glad—­ever so glad—­to tell her story to the Superintendent!  She was tired of going out furtively of an afternoon to help these folk that she had come to help.  She wanted to go in an open way—­with the stamp of approval upon her.  The Superintendent had said, once, that she would hardly be convincing to the people of the slums.  With the Volsky family to show, she could prove that she had been convincing, very convincing!

With a singing heart she approached the Settlement House.  With a smile on her lips she went up the brownstone steps, pushed wide the door—­which was never locked.  And then she hurried, as fast as her feet could hurry, to the Superintendent’s tiny office.