Mrs. Ripwinkley was looking very intently at Luclarion.  Her breath went and came hurriedly, and her face turned pale with the grand surprise of such a thought, such a plan and purpose, so simply and suddenly declared.  Her eyes were large and moist with feeling.

“Do you know, Luclarion,” she exclaimed at last, “do you realize what this is that you are thinking of; what a step it would be to take,—­what a work it would be to even hope to begin to do?  Do you know how strange it is,—­how almost impracticable,—­that it is not even safe?”

“’Twasn’t safe for Him—­when He came into the world,” Luclarion answered.

“Not to say I think there’s any comparison,” she began again, presently, “or that I believe there’s anything to be really scared of,—­except dirt; and you can clean a place round you, as them Mission people have done.  Why, there ain’t a house in Boston nicer, or sweeter, or airier even, than that one down in Arctic Street, with beautiful parlors and bedrooms, and great clean galleries leading round, and skylighted,—­sky lighted! for you see the blue heaven is above all, and you can let the skylight in, without any corruption coming in with it; and if twenty people can do that much, or a hundred,—­one can do something.  ’Taint much, either, to undertake; only to be willing to go there, and make a clean place for yourself, and a home; and live there, instead of somewheres else that’s ready made; and let it spread.  And you know I’ve always looked forrud to some kind of a house-keep of my own, finally.”

“But, Luclarion, I don’t understand!  All alone?  And you couldn’t use a whole house, you know.  Your neighbors would be inmates.  Why, it seems to me perfectly crazy!”

“Now, ma’am, did you ever know me to go off on a tangent, without some sort of a string to hold on to?  I ain’t goin’ to swarm all alone!  I never heard of such a thing.  Though if I couldn’t swarm, and the thing was to be done, I say I’d try it.  But Savira Golding is going to be married to Sam Gallilee, next month; and he’s a stevedore, and his work is down round the wharves; he’s class-leader in our church, and a first-rate, right-minded man, or else Savira wouldn’t have him; for if Savira ain’t a clear Christian, and a doing woman, there ain’t one this side of Paradise.  Now, you see, Sam Gallilee makes money; he runs a gang of three hundred men.  He can afford a good house, and a whole one, if he wants; but he’s going in for a big one, and neighbors.  They mean to live nice,—­he and Savira; and she has pretty, tasty ways; there’ll be white curtains, and plants blooming in her windows, you may make sure; she’s always had ’em in that little up-stairs dress-making room of hers; and boxes of mignonette and petunias on the ledges; and birds singing in a great summer cage swung out against the wall.  She’s one of the kind that reaches out, and can’t be kept in; and she knows her gifts, and is willing to go and let her light shine where it will help others, and so glorify; and Sam, he’s willing too, and sees the beauty of it.  And so,—­well, that’s the swarm.”