“What did you do?”

“Took the bottle away from him,” said Miss Grower.  The simplicity of this method, Holder thought, was undeniable.  “Stayed there until he came to.  Then I reckon I scared him some.”

“How?” Mr. Bentley smiled.

“I told him he’d have to see you.  He’d rather serve three months than do that—­said so.  I reckon he would, too,” she declared grimly.  “He’s better than he was last year, I think.”  She thrust her hand in the pocket of her skirt and produced some bills and silver, which she counted.  “Here’s three thirty-five from Sue Brady.  I told her she hadn’t any business bothering you, but she swears she’d spend it.”

“That was wrong, Sally.”

Miss Grower tossed her head.

“Oh, she knew I’d take it, well enough.”

“I imagine she did,” Mr. Bentley replied, and his eyes twinkled.  He rose and led the way into the library, where he opened his desk, produced a ledger, and wrote down the amount in a fine hand.

“Susan Brady, three dollars and thirty-five cents.  I’ll put it in the savings bank to-day.  That makes twenty-two dollars and forty cents for Sue.  She’s growing rich.”

“Some man’ll get it,” said Sally.

“Sally,” said Mr. Bentley, turning in his chair, “Mr. Holder’s been telling me about a rather unusual woman in that apartment house just above Fourteenth Street, on the south side of Dalton.”

“I think I know her—­by sight,” Sally corrected herself.  She appealed. to Holder.  “Red hair, and lots of it—­I suppose a man would call it auburn.  She must have been something of a beauty, once.”

The rector assented, in some astonishment.

“Couldn’t do anything with her, could you?  I reckoned not.  I’ve noticed her up and down Dalton Street at night.”

Holder was no longer deceived by her matter-of-fact tone.

“I’ll tell you what, Mr. Holder,” she went on, energetically, “there’s not a particle of use running after those people, and the sooner you find it out the less worry and trouble you give yourself.”

“Mr. Holder didn’t run after her, Sally,” said Mr. Bentley, in gentle reproof.

Holder smiled.

“Well,” said Miss Grower, “I’ve had my eye on her.  She has a history —­most of ’em have.  But this one’s out of the common.  When they’re brazen like that, and have had good looks, you can nearly always tell.  You’ve. got to wait for something to happen, and trust to luck to be on the spot, or near it.  It’s a toss-up, of course.  One thing is sure, you can’t make friends with that kind if they get a notion you’re up to anything.”

“Sally, you must remember—­” Mr. Bentley began.

Her tone became modified.  Mr. Bentley was apparently the only human of whom she stood in awe.

“All I meant was,” she said, addressing the rector, “that you’ve got to run across ’em in some natural way.”

“I understood perfectly, and I agree with you,” Holder replied.  “I have come, quite recently, to the same conclusion myself.”