He could not remember just what brought up the subject, but some one during the evening, which was passed in conversation and music, mentioned the rumor going about of increased disturbance in the lower part of the town, and carelessly wanted to know if the paper did not exaggerate the facts.  Some one turned to Philip and asked him about it as the one best informed.  He had been talking with an intelligent lawyer who had been reading a popular book which Philip had also reviewed for a magazine.  He was thoroughly enjoying the talk, and for the time being the human problem which had so long wearied his heart and mind was forgotten.

He was roused out of this to answer the question concerning the real condition of affairs in the lower part of the town.  Instantly his mind sprang back to that which absorbed it in reality more than anything else.  Before he knew it he had not only answered the particular question, but had gone on to describe the picture of desperate life in the tenement district.  The buzz of conversation in the other rooms gradually ceased.  The group about the minister grew, as others became aware that something unusual was going on in that particular room.  He unconsciously grew eloquent and his handsome face lighted up with the fires that raged deep in him at the thought of diseased and depraved humanity.  He did not know how long he talked.  He knew there was a great hush when he had ended.  Then before any one could change the stream of thought some young woman in the music-room who had not known what was going on began to sing to a new instrumental variation “Home, Sweet Home.”  Coming as it did after Philip’s vivid description of the tenements, it seemed like a sob of despair or a mocking hypocrisy.  He drew back into one of the smaller rooms and began to look over some art prints on a table.  As he stood there, again blaming himself for his impetuous breach of society etiquette in almost preaching on such an occasion, Mr. Winter came in and said: 

“It does not seem possible that such a state of affairs exists as you describe, Mr. Strong.  Are you sure you do not exaggerate?”

“Exaggerate!  Mr. Winter, you have pardoned my little sermon here to-night, I know.  It was forced on me.  But——­” He choked, and then with an energy that was all the stronger for being repressed, he said, turning full toward the mill-owner, “Mr. Winter, will you go with me and look at things for yourself?  In the name of Christ will you see what humanity is sinning and suffering not more than a mile from this home of yours?”

Mr. Winter hesitated and then said:  “Yes, I’ll go.  When?”

“Say to-morrow night.  Come down to my house early and we will start from there.”

Mr. Winter agreed, and when Philip went home he glowed with hope.  If once he could get people to know for themselves it seemed to him the rest of his desire for needed co-operation would follow.