“I am going to telephone Dr. Jarvis,” he said, “and then I shall come back, in order to be here when he arrives.”

She looked up at him.

“Oh, thank you, sir,—­I guess it’s for the best—­”

Her voice died away, and the rector, seeking for the cause, saw that a man had entered the room.  He walked up to the couch and stood for a moment staring moodily at the child, while the woman watched him, transfixed.

“Richard!” she said.

He paid no attention to her.  She turned to Hodder.  “This is my husband, sir. . . .  Richard, I went into the church—­just for a moment—­I—­I couldn’t help it, and this gentleman—­the minister—­came home with me.  He wanted to—­he thought I was sick.  And now he’s going out to get the best doctor in the city for Dicky.”

The man turned suddenly and confronted the rector.

“Why don’t you let him die, you and your church people?” he asked.  “You’ve done your worst to kill him.”

The woman put her hand fearfully, imploringly on the man’s arm.

“Richard!” she whispered.

But as Hodder glanced from the derelict beside him a wave of comprehension passed through him that swept him clean of indignation, of resentment.  And this man had been prosperous and happy!

“There is but one way to save the boy’s life, Mr. Garvin,” he said, “and that is to put him in charge of Dr. Jarvis.”

The man made no reply, but went over to the window, staring out into the yard.  There was something vaguely ominous in his attitude.  The rector watched him a moment, and then turned to the mother.

“You must not lose hope,” he told her.

She looked at him with terror-stricken eyes that sought to be grateful.  He had picked up his hat from a corner of the littered table, and started to leave, when Garvin, by a sudden movement, planted himself in the doorway.  Whether he had been drinking, or whether he were merely crazed by misfortune and the hopeless search in the heat for employment, and by lack of proper nourishment, Hodder could not say.  There was a light in his eyes like that in a wounded animal’s; and although he was thin and slight, he had the concentrated power of desperation.

“Say, what church do you come from?” he demanded.

“From St. John’s,” said the rector.

“Eldon Parr’s church?”

Hodder started, in spite of himself, at the name.

“Mr. Parr is a member of the congregation.”

“Come off!  He owns it and runs it, the same as he does everything else in this town.  Maybe you don’t think I read the Sunday papers.  Say, I was respectable once, and had a good place.  You wouldn’t believe it, would you?”

Hodder hesitated.  There was obviously no way to pass the man except by using physical force.

“If you have anything to say to me, Mr. Garvin, I shall be glad to talk to you later.  You must not stop me now,” he said with a touch of severity.