She had a little money, and she had heard that living was cheap abroad.  She could get across then, and perhaps keep herself.  But she must do more than that, to justify her going.  She must get money, and then decide how the money was to be spent.  If she could only talk it over with Uncle James!  Or, with Harvey.  Harvey knew about business and money.

But she dared not go to Harvey.  She was terribly frightened when she even thought of him.  There was no hope of making him understand; and no chance of reasoning with him, because, to be frank, she had no reasons.  She had only instinct—­instinct and a great tenderness toward suffering.  No, obviously Harvey must not know until everything was arranged.

That morning the Methodist Church packed a barrel for the Belgians.  There was a real rite of placing in it Mrs. Augustus Gregory’s old sealskin coat, now a light brown and badly worn, but for years the only one in the neighborhood.  Various familiar articles appeared, to be thrust into darkness, only to emerge in surroundings never dreamed of in their better days—­the little Howard boy’s first trouser suit; the clothing of a baby that had never lived; big Joe Hemmingway’s dress suit, the one he was married in and now too small for him.  And here and there things that could ill be spared, brought in and offered with resolute cheerfulness.

Sara Lee brought some of Uncle James’ things, and was at once set to work.  The women there called Sara Lee capable, but it was to take other surroundings to bring out her real efficiency.

And it was when bending over a barrel, while round her went on that pitying talk of women about a great calamity, that Sara Lee got her great idea; and later on she made the only speech of her life.

That evening Harvey went home in a quiet glow of happiness.  He had had a good day.  And he had heard of a little house that would exactly suit Sara Lee and him.  He did not notice his sister’s silence when he spoke about it.  He was absorbed, manlike, in his plans.

“The Leete house,” he said in answer to her perfunctory question.  “Will Leete has lost his mind and volunteered for the ambulance service in France.  Mrs. Leete is going to her mother’s.”

“Maybe he feels it’s his duty.  He can drive a car, and they have no children.”

“Duty nothing!” He seemed almost unduly irritated.  “He’s tired of the commission business, that’s all.  Y’ought to have heard the fellows in the office.  Anyhow, they want to sub-let the house, and I’m going to take Sara Lee there to-night.”

His sister looked at him, and there was in her face something of the expression of the women that day as they packed the barrel.  But she said nothing until he was leaving the house that night.  Then she put a hand on his arm.  She was a weary little woman, older than Harvey, and tired with many children.  She had been gathering up small overshoes in the hall and he had stopped to help her.