“Even to the half of my kingdom,” said Mr. Rimmon, bowing with his plump hand on his plump bosom.

“It is not so much as that; it is only a little of your time and, maybe, a little of your company.  I have just heard of a poor young woman here who seems to be in quite a desperate way.  She has been abandoned by her husband, and is now quite ill.  The person who told me, one of those good women who are always seeking out such cases, tells me that she has rarely seen a more pitiable case.  The poor thing is absolutely destitute.  Mrs. King tells me she has seen better days.”

For some reason, perhaps, that the circumstances called up not wholly pleasant associations, Mr. Rimmon’s face fell a little at the picture drawn.  He did not respond with the alacrity Mrs. Lancaster had expected.

“Of course, I will do it, if you wish it—­or I could have some of our workers look up the case, and, if the facts warrant it, could apply some of our alms to its relief.  I should think, however, the woman is rather a fit subject for a hospital.  Why hasn’t she been sent to a hospital, I wonder?”

“I don’t know.  No, that is not exactly what I meant,” declared Mrs. Lancaster.  “I thought I would go myself and that, as Dr. Templeton is ill, perhaps you would go with me.  She seems to be in great distress of mind, and possibly you might be able to comfort her.  I have never forgotten what an unspeakable comfort your uncle was when we were in trouble years ago.”

“Oh, of course, I will go with you,” said the divine.  “There is no place, dear lady, where I would not go in such company,” he added, his head as much on one side as his stout neck would allow, and his eyes as languishing as he dared make them.

Mrs. Lancaster, however, did not appear to notice this.  Her face did not change.

“Very well, then:  we will go to-morrow.  I will come around and pick you up.  I will get the address.”

So the following morning Mrs. Lancaster’s carriage stopped in front of the comfortable house which adjoined Mr. Rimmon’s church, and after a little while that gentleman came down the steps.  He was not in a happy frame of mind, for stocks had fallen heavily the day before, and he had just received a note from Ferdy Wickersham.  However, as he settled his plump person beside the lady, the Rev. William H. Rimmon was as well-satisfied-looking as any man on earth could be.  Who can blame him if he thought how sweet it would be if he could drive thus always!

The carriage presently stopped at the entrance of a narrow street that ran down toward the river.  The coachman appeared unwilling to drive down so wretched an alley, and waited for further instructions.  After a few words the clergyman and Mrs. Lancaster got out.

“You wait here, James; we will walk.”  They made their way down the street, through a multitude of curious children with one common attribute, dirt, examining the numbers on either side, and commiserating the poor creatures who had to live in such squalor.