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Peter looked
puzzled.
"Mr. Lapham, the bank president, was there."
Peter still looked puzzled.
"And he told the table about a young lawyer who had very little money,
yet who put five hundred dollars--his first fee--into his bank, and had
used it to help--" Miss De Voe broke down, and, leaning against the
mantel, buried her face in her handkerchief.
"It's curious you should have heard of it," said Peter.
"He--he didn't mention names, b-bu-but I knew, of course."
"I didn't like to speak of it because--well--I've wanted to tell you the
good it's done. Suppose you sit down." Peter brought a chair, and Miss
De Voe took it.
"You must think I'm very foolish," she said, wiping her eyes.
"It's nothing to cry about." And Peter began telling her of some of the
things which he had been able to do:--of the surgical brace it had
bought; of the lessons in wood-engraving it had given; of the
sewing-machine it had helped to pay for; of the arrears in rent it had
settled. "You see," he explained, "these people are too self-respecting
to go to the big charities, or to rich people.


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