“Who is it?” she asked quickly.  “I am very busy this morning.”

“It is Lady Sybil Caroom,” he answered.  “Please don’t go.  I should like you to meet her.”

Mary looked longingly at the door of communication which led into the further suite of offices, but it was too late to think of escape.  Sybil had already entered, bringing into the room a delicious odor of violets, herself almost bewilderingly beautiful.  She was dressed with extreme simplicity, but with a delicate fastidiousness which Mary at any rate was quick to appreciate.  Her lips were slightly parted in a natural and perfectly dazzling smile.  She came across to Brooks with outstretched hand and laughter in her eyes.

“Confess that you are horrified,” she exclaimed.  “I don’t care a bit.  I’ve waited for you to take me quite long enough.  If you won’t come now I shall go by myself.”

“Go where?” he exclaimed.

“Why, to one of the branches—­I don’t care which.  I can help for the rest of the day.”  He laughed.

“Well, let me introduce you to Miss Scott,” he said, turning round.  “Mary, this is Lady Sybil Caroom.  Miss Scott,” he continued, turning to the younger girl, “has been my right hand since we first started.  If ever you do stand behind our counter it will have to be under her auspices.”

Sybil turned courteously but with some indifference towards the girl, who was standing by Brooks’ chair.  In her plain black dress and white linen collar Mary perhaps looked more than her years, especially by the side of Sybil.  As the eyes of the two met, Sybil saw that she was regarded with more than ordinary attention.  She saw, too, that Mary was neither so plain nor so insignificant as she had at first imagined.

“I am sure you are very much to be congratulated, Miss Scott,” she said.  “Mr. Brooks’ scheme is a splendid success, isn’t it?  You must be proud of your share in it.”

“My share,” Mary said, in quiet, even tones, “has been very small indeed.  Mr. Brooks is alone responsible for it.  The idea was his, and the organization was his.  We others have been no more than machines.”

“Very useful machines, Mary,” Brooks said, with a kind glance towards her.  “Come, we mustn’t any of us belittle our share in the work.”

Mary took up some papers from the desk.

“I think,” she said, “that if you have no more messages for Mr. Flitch I had better start.  We are very busy in Stepney just now.”

“Please don’t hurry,” Brooks said.  “We must try and manage something for Lady Sybil.”

Mary looked up doubtfully.

“Unless you ask Lady Sybil to look on,” she said, “I don’t quite see how it is possible for her to come.”

“Lady Sybil knows the conditions,” Brooks answered.  “She wants to have a try as a helper.”

Mary raised her eyebrows slightly.

“The chief work in the morning is washing children,” she remarked.  “They come to us in a perfectly filthy condition, and we wash about twenty each, altogether.”