The doctor was angry for a moment at this intrusion.  It had seemed natural enough for Father Damon to address his exhortations to the poor and sinful of his mission.  She admired his spirit, she had a certain sympathy with him; for who could say that ministering to minds diseased might not have a physical influence to lift these people into a more decent and prosperous way of living?  She had thought of herself as working with him to a common end.  But for him now to turn upon her, absolutely ignoring the solid, rational, and scientific ground on which he knew, or should know, she stood, and to speak to her as one of the “lost,” startled her, and filled her with indignation.  She had on her lips a sarcastic reply to the effect that even if she had a soul, she had not taken up her work in the city as a means of saving it; but she was not given to sarcasm, and before she spoke she looked at her companion, and saw in the eyes a look of such genuine humble feeling, contradicting the otherwise austere expression of his face, that her momentary bitterness passed away.

“I think, Father Damon,” she said, gently, “we had better not talk of that.  I don’t have much time for theorizing, you know, nor much inclination,” she added.

The priest saw that for the present he could make no progress, and after a little silence the conversation went back to the family they were about to visit.

They found the woman better—­at least, more cheerful.  Father Damon noticed that there were medicines upon the stand, and that there were the remains of a meal which the children had been eating.  He turned to the doctor.  “I see that you have been providing for them.”

“Oh, the eldest boy had already been out and begged a piece of bread when I came.  Of course they had to have something more at once.  But it is very little that I can do.”

He sat down by the bed, and talked with the mother, getting her story, while the doctor tidied up the room a bit, and then, taking the youngest child in her lap and drawing the others about her, began to tell a story in a low voice.  Presently she was aware that the priest was on his knees and saying a prayer.  She stopped in her story, and looked out through the dirty window into the chill and dark area.

“What is he doing?” whispered one of the children.

“I don’t know,” she said, and a sort of chill came over her heart.  It all seemed a mockery, in these surroundings.

When he rose he said to the woman, “We will see that you do not want till your husband comes back.”

“And I will look in tomorrow,” said the doctor.

When they were in the street, Father Damon thanked her for calling his attention to the case, thanked her a little formally, and said that he would make inquiries and have it properly attended to.  And then he asked:  “Is your work ended for the day?  You must be tired.”

“Oh, no; I have several visits to make.  I’m not tired.  I rather think it is good for me, being out-of-doors so much.”  She thanked him, and said good-by.