Sybil’s face was perfectly brilliant with smiles.

“You think that I can?” she exclaimed.  “How nice of you.  I don’t mind how hard it is at first.  I may be a little awkward, but I don’t think I’m stupid.”

“You think this sort of work is the sort you would like best?”

“Why, yes.  It seems so practical, you know,” Sybil declared.  “You must be doing good, even if some of the people don’t deserve it.  I don’t know about the washing, but I don’t mind it a bit.  Do you think it will be a busy morning?”

“I am sure it will,” Mary answered.  “A number of the people are getting to work again now, since the Tariff Revision Bill passed, and they keep coming to us for clothes and boots and things.  I shall give you the skirts and blouses to look after as soon as the washing is over.

“Delightful,” Sybil exclaimed.  “I am sure I can manage that.”

“And on no account must you give any money to any one,” Mary said.  “That is most important.”

“I will remember,” Sybil promised.

Two hours later she broke in upon her mother and half-a-dozen callers, her hat obviously put on without a looking-glass, her face flushed, and her hair disordered, and smelling strongly of disinfectant.

“Some tea, mother, please,” she exclaimed, nodding to her visitors.  “I have had one bun for luncheon, and I am starving.  Can you imagine what I have been doing?”

No one could.  Every one tried.

“Skating!”

“Ping-pong!”

Getting theatre-tickets at the theatre!  She waved them aside with scorn.

“I have washed fourteen children,” she declared, impressively, “fitted at least a dozen women with blouses and skirts, and three with boots.  Besides a lot of odd things.”

Lord Arranmore set down his cup with a little shrug of the shoulders.

“You have joined Brooks’ Society?” he remarked.

“Yes!  I have been down at the Stepney branch all the morning.  And do you know, we’re disinfected before we leave.”

“A most necessary precaution, I should think,” Lady Caroom exclaimed, reaching for her vinaigrette, “but do go and change your things as quickly as you can.

“I must eat, mother, or starve,” Sybil declared.  “I have never been so hungry.”

A somewhat ponderous lady, who was the wife of a bishop, felt bound to express her disapprobation.

“Do you really think, dear,” she said, “that you are wise in encouraging a charity which is not in any way under the control of the Church?”

“Oh, isn’t it?” Sybil remarked.  “I’m sure I didn’t know.  But then the Church hasn’t anything quite like this, has it?  Mr. Brooks is so clever and original in all his ideas.”

The disapprobation of the bishop’s wife became even more marked.

“The very fact,” she said, “that the Church has not thought it wise to institute a charitable scheme upon such—­er—­sweeping lines, is a proof, to my mind, that the whole thing is a mistake.  As a matter of fact, I happen to know that the bishop strongly disapproves of Mr. Brooks’ methods.”