CHAPTER XXVI.
SOME STARTLING CHANGES.
As the days went by the employees of the big department store became gradually aware that something had happened. The first intimation came from the daily papers, in which was given a more or less truthful account of Mr. Day's withdrawal from the firm on the grounds that he disapproved of his senior partner's new business methods.
What these methods were it remained to be seen. The clerks were hopeful of some reforms, but for a while they only wondered and waited.
Miss Fairbanks stopped at Faith's counter early one morning, when the store was comparatively empty, and began talking to her in an unusually affable manner.
"There's something going to happen here soon," she said, confidently. "And, in my opinion, it's going to be pretty serious. Either Mr. Denton has got religion, or else he's gone crazy, for he's giving us buyers a lot of orders nowadays that will mean the failure of the firm if we are obliged to obey them."
"Why, what are they, Miss Fairbanks?" Faith asked in surprise. Miss Jones came up also and listened for the answer.
"Well, in the first place, we are not to beat down the drummers any more, but are to offer them fair prices on all our orders. Then we are to learn, if possible, who makes the goods that we buy, for Mr. Denton says he does not want to make a profit out of some poor woman's work while she is going half clothed and perhaps sick and starving."
"Why, the man is stark mad," said Miss Jones, in amazement. "As if it was any concern of his what other people work for!"
"I think he is quite right," remarked Faith, very soberly. "I can understand how he feels, and I think he is very brave to give such orders."
"Then he says," went on Miss Fairbanks, "that there are to be new arrangements for you girls. You are to be relieved every two hours for about twenty minutes. That means, of course, that he is going to hire a lot of new help, and I, for one, am sorry, for there'll be blunders by the hundred."
"Oh, perhaps not," said Faith, brightly. "I hope not, anyway, for your sake, Miss Fairbanks. I know just how annoying it is for you, who have so many clerks to look after."
Miss Fairbanks looked at her gratefully, but with a little surprise. It was not often that one of her girls expressed any sympathy for her.
"Then, there's to be a full hour at luncheon," continued the buyer after a minute, "and the best of all is that we are to have a new lunch-room. No more eating in that rat hole down in the basement."
"Well, that is good news," said Miss Jones delightedly. "Really, I begin to think that the millennium is coming!"
"Or the Kingdom of God," said Faith, very happily. "There is no doubt in my mind but that Mr. Denton has become a Christian."
Both women stared at her as she spoke, but, for a wonder, neither of them scoffed at her statement.
Miss Fairbanks recovered herself first and asked a very natural question.
"What do you mean by saying that he has become a Christian? Why, Mr. Denton has been a member of the church ever since I can remember."
"Alas!" sighed Faith sadly. "That doesn't always signify, Miss Fairbanks. He may have accepted Christ but not Christ's spirit; but it is plain now that the very essence of godliness is awakening within him. If this is so I can predict that there will be great changes in this store and that every one will be for the comfort of its toilers."
A few customers coming in cut short the conversation, and as Maggie Brady was absent the department was short-handed, as usual, so that there was only an odd minute or two for idling.
"I wonder if Miss Brady is ill?" said Faith as she squeezed by Miss Jones in the narrow space behind the counter.
"It will go hard with her if she doesn't show up pretty soon," was the answer, "for between you and me, I believe Gunning hates her."
"Oh, these dreadful hatreds," said Faith, with a sigh. "Poor Miss Brady looks so wretched. I don't see how any one can hate her."
"Well, you see, she was engaged to Gunning once, and she might better have married him than to have thrown herself away on Jim Denton."
Cash girl Number 83 came up as she spoke. She was the girl who had first told Faith that Mr. Watkins was very ill and in the hospital, and it was evident by her manner that she had something else to tell her.
"What is it, 83?" asked Faith, expectantly. "Have you heard any news of Mr. Watkins' condition?"
"Yes, and I've heard more'n that," said the little girl quickly, "but I won't spring it all on you at once, for it might shock you, Miss Marvin."
Faith was puzzled at her words, but she tried to restrain her eagerness until the girl had given a package to a customer and come back to the counter.
"Mr. Watkins is better—lots better," she said, gayly. "They say the boss has been to see him in his howling swell carriage, and they've fixed up the matter about the money all right; they must have, because Sammy Watkins is back in his old position."
"Oh, that is lovely," cried Faith, clasping her hands together.
"Well, the rest ain't so lovely!" said the cash girl, grinning, "for I saw Mag Brady on the street last night. She was drunk as a toper, and she says she's a-goin' to 'do' you!"
"What!" gasped Faith, in astonishment as the cash girl finished, "Miss Brady intoxicated! You surely don't mean it?"
"Oh, don't I?" said the child, with a worldly leer. "I mean lots more than that, only I'm too nice to say it."
She walked away to answer another call while Faith stared first at Miss Fairbanks and then at Miss Jones. Both had heard the words yet they were laughing at her amazement.
"You are easily shocked," said Miss Fairbanks, with a shrug. "Why, any one with half an eye could see that Mag Brady loves whiskey."
"That's another thing that Jim Denton taught her," said Miss Jones indifferently. "Why, I knew Mag Brady when she was as innocent as you are."
"But can nothing be done to reclaim her?" asked Faith, eagerly. "You say you knew her when she was different, Miss Jones; have you ever tried to save her from ruin?"
"I mind my own business," said Miss Jones, haughtily, "and I find that is all I can possibly do. Mag Brady must save herself if she wants to be saved, but, between you and me, I don't think she wants to."
"But you—you are her friend," Faith cried, turning to Miss Fairbanks; "do promise me that you will plead with her; it might do wonders! Just think how you would feel if the poor girl was your sister!"
Miss Fairbanks seemed earnest and sincere as she replied:
"I will certainly advise her if she gives me the chance. Poor girl, I am sorry for her, but I doubt if I can save her."
"Then we must all pray that God will do so," whispered Faith, very soberly. "It is a wrong that we will all be held responsible for; to see her going down to destruction and not try to save her!"
Miss Jones wheeled around and went to a customer, but Miss Fairbanks paused and looked at Faith for a moment.
"I would give the world to possess your faith," she said, hesitatingly; "but there's no use—no use—I'm too great a sinner."
There was no chance to reply, for she walked away as she spoke. In a second she was talking to a customer in her usual business-like manner. As Faith turned to look over her stock she heard some one speak.
There was a colored man at her counter holding a letter out toward her.
"Dis yere lettah fo' you, missy," he said, with a wide grin. "Dar ain't no name on it, honey, but I know's yo' face. Yo' is num'er fo' eleben. Reckin ain't no 'stake 'bout it!"
"I am Number 411, certainly," said Faith, politely, "but I can't imagine who would write me a letter; still, if you are sure it's for me, I suppose I must accept."
"Oh, it's fo' you all right," said the negro, decidedly, "fo' de capting p'inted yo' out on de street las' ebenin'."
Faith took the letter and opened it hastily. As she glanced rapidly over the writing she blushed as red as a poppy.
"Got a mash note?" asked Miss Jones with a careless glance at the letter.
"Not exactly," stammered Faith, "but it is almost as unpleasant. It is from a man whom Bob Hardy spoke to me about—a fellow who thinks because I am poor that he can buy my soul with his superfluous money!"
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE POISONED CANDY.
But Faith had only read a part of the letter when she made her statement, for, on a closer perusal, she found she was mistaken. If the writer had ever dreamed of tempting her with the lure of proffered luxury he admitted his change of opinion in terms of honest candor.
"Dear Child," the letter read, "since our meeting the other evening I have been thinking constantly how I best could win your esteem and affection. That I should desire the friendship of a pure, young girl would sound strange to the ears of many worldly people, but to you, who are as distant from worldliness as are the angels in heaven, the suggestion can bring only bewildering sensations. To say that I am ashamed does not half express my feelings. To say that I wish to make immediate amends does not convey to you the half of my eagerness in that direction.
"Will you allow me to call upon you at your home? This is the request of a man who was once a gentleman, but who, through the bitterness of disappointment, had lost faith in all things holy."
The letter was signed "Cornelius C. Deering."
Faith read it over and over—the signature was in a measure familiar, but just at that time she could not place it.
As she tucked the letter in her pocket, Mr. Gunning approached the counter. He was twirling his mustache with his coarse, blunt fingers, and there was a superciliousness in his manner that was almost disgusting.
"Perhaps you are not aware, Number 411, that we don't allow that sort of thing here," he said in a loud tone. "If you must have such improper notes from men, please see that they are not delivered during business hours. I can't have you wasting time in reading letters!"
For a moment the floor seemed sinking beneath Faith's feet, but it was not altogether from the effect of his words—it was the shock of finding out that Miss Jones was treacherous.
For a moment it seemed incomprehensible that she should have repeated her remark, but how else could the floor-walker have guessed that her letter was either from a "man" or "improper"?
She almost bit her tongue in her effort to keep silent, and at first she was even tempted to show the fellow the letter.
"It was not my fault that the letter came to me here," she said finally. "Believe me, Mr. Gunning, it would not have happened if I could have prevented it."
"Oh, of course, you can't help men writing love letters to you," said the fellow, impudently; "but if I see any more of them I shall report it to Mr. Gibson! Our rules are very strict. There is to be no flirting in the building!"
Faith would have liked to ask him why he did not stop James Denton from flirting in the store, and why the detectives were not punished for their villainous efforts in behalf of outsiders, as well as a dozen more questions, some of which would have included his own department, but she was far too wise to risk such a venture.
When Mr. Gunning walked away, Miss Jones came up to her. There was a sneer on her face while her eyes twinkled with amusement.
"How could you be so mean as to tell him?" Faith asked, breathlessly. "You saw how distressed I was; why could you not respect my feelings?"
"Oh, I guess you didn't feel so bad as you try to make out," said Miss Jones, snappishly. "Girls that make friends with men who keep nigger servants ain't always as green as they look, you know! Sometimes they are worse than those who ain't so smooth or so clever!"
"You are as insulting as he was," said Faith, very gravely. "I am disappointed in you, Miss Jones. I though you were more friendly."
"Well, who cares what you thought?" was the heartless answer. "I'm not to blame if you took me for a fool! Why, even Mag Brady could see through your sly actions!"
Faith looked at her in astonishment, her veins throbbing with indignation.
"She understood your little game that day of the fire, when you and Jim Denton were talking together! He's rich, Jim Denton is, and he's mighty susceptible! You ain't such an innocent but what you found that out, and now he is meeting you on street corners and sending you candy!"
Faith had heard all she could bear, so she turned and walked slowly away. She was so confused that for an hour or more she could hardly make out her checks properly.
The new packer was a girl about two years her junior, and as Faith handed up her goods she could not help thinking of Miss Jennings.
Poor Mary, with all her bitterness, had been a true, loyal friend. She would have scorned to do a treacherous or dishonest action herself, yet she absolutely refused to condemn such conduct in others.
Faith remembered her plea for the thief, Lou Willis, and that led her finally on a new train of thought, so that she was able to almost forget her late conversation.
Several times during the day there were changes made in the department, and Miss Fairbanks was kept busy altering the prices on goods, especially on what were known as the "bargain counters."
These counters were principally small tables standing here and there in the aisles, and during the rush hours they were always surrounded by customers.
Finally, to the surprise of the entire department, the tables, themselves, were removed, Mr. Denton coming down from his office to superintend the transaction.
"The fire company has warned him again, I guess," whispered Miss Fairbanks to Faith. "Well, that's a hard one on Mag Brady; she was hired expressly for those bargains."
"He will surely make a place for her elsewhere, will he not?" asked Faith. "It would be dreadful if the poor girl should lose her work completely!"
"She deserves it," said Cash Number 83, who was standing near. "'Tain't as if she was stayin' away 'cause she was sick! She's just on a spree along with some girls and fellers!"
"What gets me is how Mr. Forbes is taking all these changes. He don't seem to be saying a word," continued Miss Fairbanks, without noticing the cash girl.
"Oh, he's just saying nothing and sawing wood," said Miss Jones, knowingly. "He's too foxy to quit the firm as old Pomposity did! Probably he thinks it won't last, and he's willing to wait till it's over."
"Well, it will be a great deal safer here now without the tables," said the buyer. "If we have a fire now there won't be so much crowding."
"They say he's doing this sort of thing all over the store," said Mr. Gunning, who had just returned from helping with the tables.
"Then they tell me, too, that he's having a lunch-room and restaurant for employees built on the sixth floor of the building. All the goods that were stored there are being taken to the basement."
"And we cash girls are all to be fired!" spoke up "Number 83," sadly, "except those who are healthy and over fourteen. The rest of us that ain't got any parents have got to go to Gerry's, or, if we have got parents, they've got to support us—that's what the boss says, but it sounds mighty like a 'pipe dream.'"
"It sounds like a sensible arrangement," said Faith, seriously, "for it's a shame that such children should have to work! Why, you ought to be in school this very minute!"
"Well, I'd rather be here," said "83" very shortly. "There ain't no fun in a school-room, and what's the good of studyin', anyhow?"
"But don't you wish to be able to cipher and to read books?" said Faith.
"What's the use?" was the answer; "they don't tell you nothin', at least not nothin' about how to earn your livin'!"
Faith gave up in despair. She was baffled at every turn. The only ray of sunshine that she could see was in Mr. Denton's rapidly developing improvements.
As she mounted the stairs to the sixth floor to eat her luncheon in the new quarters, she was surprised to find Sam Watkins waiting at the top of the last flight, apparently on the lookout for her.
"This is Miss Marvin, ain't it?" he asked when he saw her, at the same time drawing a package out from under his jacket. "I was told to give you this," he whispered, shyly. "Here, take it, quick, while there ain't no one lookin'! Them gals would turn green if they knowed you had a whole box of candy!"
Faith took the box and looked at it sharply. There was no card this time, but she felt sure it was from James Denton.
"You can have it, Sam," she said, without an instant's hesitation. "I really don't care for it; do take it, Sam. But, by the way, where did you get it?"
"Hush!"
The boy whispered the word with his fingers on his lips.
"There they come now, miss! Are you sure you don't want it?"
"Quite sure, Sam," was Faith's answer, as she hurried away. She did not wish the clerks to know that she had been the recipient of more presents.
Sam Watkins took the box directly to the men's lunch-room, which was on the same floor at the other end of the building.
Being a boy, he could not long resist the temptation of candy, but just as he opened the box with a grimace of delight, Ben Tyler came in carrying a wide-awake, little Skye terrier.
"I just found him in the store; some lady has lost him, I guess," said Tyler, as the others all looked at him. "I was going to send him to the 'Found desk,' but he wouldn't have it. He sticks to me as if I was his master."
"I'll get him away from you, I'll bet!" said Sam, holding out a piece of candy.
In a second the dog sprang out of Tyler's arms and swallowed the sweetmeat greedily.
"There, you can't have any more," said Sam, after he had fed him a couple more pieces. "I've got to treat the rest of the crowd, and there won't be enough to go around."
"Keep your candy, kid; we don't want it," said one of the men good-naturedly, but Sam was so interested in watching the lively little dog that, fortunately, he forgot to eat for a few minutes.
"Hello! What ails the dog?" exclaimed Tyler, suddenly. "How queer he acts! I believe the stuff has made him sick already!"
All eyes were turned on the poor little creature, and it was soon plain to be seen that he was suffering terribly.
"It ought not to hurt him," said one of the men.
"Not if it's all right," said Tyler, going over toward Sam. "Let me see your candy, my boy; I believe there's something wrong with it."
Sam dropped the chocolate that he was just conveying to his mouth, and handed the box to the detective with great alacrity.
"There's something in it, I'm sure," he said, after a careful scrutiny, "and I'm willing to bet the stuff is poisoned!"
A final moan from the poor little dog fully justified him in his decision.
"The dog is dead," said one of the clerks in a solemn voice. "So there isn't a shadow of doubt but what the candy is poisoned."
CHAPTER XXVIII.
A PAINFUL SITUATION.
To say that Sam was disappointed would be describing his feelings very mildly, but in an instant the discomfiture was forgotten in a new sensation—he had suddenly thought of Miss Marvin's good fortune.
Suppose she had kept the box and eaten the candy! The thought frightened Sam out of all further idea of secrecy.
In an instant he had related how he came by the candy, and the clerks were looking at each other with questioning glances.
"'Tain't the first box of candy she's had sent her," said one. "I heard Fairbanks say that she got them often from Jim Denton."
"Yes, she's cut Mag Brady out for good in that direction. Well, why shouldn't she? She's new and as pretty as a picture!"
"But, surely, Jim Denton didn't send this box," said the detective. "If he's sweet on the girl he wouldn't want to poison her."
"Well, hardly, Tyler," laughed another of the lunchers.
"Perhaps he intended it for Mag," suggested another. "If he's tired of the girl he may be trying to fix her."
"Pshaw! He doesn't have to resort to such measures as that! What could a poor girl do to injure Jim Denton? No, Tyler, you'll have to look somewhere else for your poisoner, I reckon," said one of the oldest men in the whole establishment.
"Who gave you the box in the first place?" asked the detective of Sam. "I mean, who told you to give it to Miss Marvin?"
Sam spoke up promptly, for he had nothing to hide.
"A kid gave it to me at the door—a messenger boy—who said he was in a tearing hurry."
"Did you sign for it?" asked the detective, looking sharply at the boy.
"Naw, I didn't sign nothin'; he didn't have no ticket."
"Then he wasn't a messenger at all," was the reply, "and you are a big dunce, Sam Watkins, that you didn't know it!"
"Well, I thought it was straight, anyhow," whispered the boy. "How was I to guess that some one was tryin' to pisen Miss Marvin?"
Ben Tyler took the box carefully and replaced the wrapper; then, telling Sam to follow, he went straight to Mr. Denton's office.
"Now, Sam, tell Mr. Denton exactly what you have told me," said the detective, after he had stated what had happened.
Sam repeated his story without the slightest variation. Mr. Denton cross-questioned him, but there was nothing further to learn. A boy had handed the box to Sam and told him to give it to Miss Faith Marvin.
After Mr. Denton and the detective had examined the candy carefully they held a consultation as to what should be done about it.
"We must have it analyzed at once," said Mr. Denton, anxiously. "That is the only way of proving the matter."
The detective nodded. He knew that came first, but it needed no analysis to convince him that the candy was poisoned.
"Has she ever received a similar box that you know of?" asked Mr. Denton.
The detective hesitated for a moment. He hardly knew how to tell him.
"I believe she has, sir," he said, after a minute; "but I would advise you to ask the young woman herself, for I can only repeat what may be idle gossip."
"You are right," said Mr. Denton, touching an electric button and sending the boy who answered to the department for Miss Marvin.
In less than five minutes Faith entered the office, but before he came the detective slipped a newspaper over the box of poisoned candy, and a nod of the head showed that Mr. Denton understood and approved of the movement.
"Miss Marvin," said Mr. Denton, "I wish you to answer a question: Are you in the habit of receiving boxes of candy as presents?"
With Mr. Gunning's remarks still burning in her brain, Faith could not help blushing at this unexpected question.
She finally controlled herself and answered firmly:
"I have never received but two boxes since I entered your employ, sir—one a few days ago and the other this morning."
"What did you do with the candy?" asked her employer again.
"I gave the first box to a cash girl who works in my department, and the other I gave to Sam. I didn't even open them."
"Why did you not open them?" asked the detective, sharply.
Faith glanced at Mr. Denton a moment before replying.
"Yes, why did you not open them? Are you not fond of candy, Miss Marvin?"
"I like it, yes, sir," was Faith's slow answer; "but the gift was unexpected. In fact, sir, I did not want it, and so I gave away the candy because I objected to the giver."
Faith's color had risen as she said these words, and she seemed to brace herself mentally for what was coming.
Should she answer the next question, which she felt sure would follow? It was a moment that taxed all the decision in her nature.
Mr. Denton looked at her smilingly as he prepared for the question. There was not an inkling in his brain of the true situation.
"Do you object, Miss Marvin, to telling us who sent it? Really, the question is important, or I would not ask it."
Faith looked from one to the other and clenched her fingers convulsively. It seemed cruel to her to thus wound the feelings of another.
"I would rather not tell, please, Mr. Denton," she began.
"Then I must insist," said the gentleman, "for, as I said, the matter is serious."
"If you insist, I must obey," said Faith, in some bewilderment; "but I beg you will forgive me for saying that your son sent me the candy."
Before the words were fairly out Mr. Denton was pale with horror. The shock was so great that he shuddered as he looked at her.
"My son," he whispered, hoarsely. "Is that true, Miss Marvin? Is my son one of the rascals who annoy the young women under my protection? Is he—"
He could get no farther—his feelings overcame him.
"I am afraid he is," said Faith, very faintly, "for I have given him no right to be sending me presents."
Mr. Denton leaned back in his chair with one hand to his brow. The detective's ruse in covering the candy had produced results as startling as they were suspicious.
If Faith had known of the poison in the candy no power could have induced her to tell what she had, but up to the present she was in total ignorance of the matter, and it was now Mr. Denton's turn to dread the next disclosures.
"My dear child," he said at last; "I have something to tell you—something that will shock you even more than your news shocks me; it is this, your box of candy to-day was poisoned."
Faith stared at him stupidly for the space of a second, then the full situation dawned slowly upon her. "If that is the case, your son did not send it, Mr. Denton!" she cried in decided accents, "for although he is thoughtless and careless of others, he would shrink from doing such a deed as that, even though he had a motive, which he certainly hasn't!"
"I believe you," said Mr. Denton, in a tone of relief. "Whoever sent the candy is making my son the scapegoat! You say there was no writing on the package when you got it, young man, and no message or card when you opened it in the lunch-room?"
"I can vouch for that," said Tyler, as the boy shook his head. "I was watching the boy when he opened the candy."
"Have you any enemies in the store that you know of, Miss Marvin—any one who is aware that my son has sent you candy?"
Mr. Denton had turned toward Faith as he asked the question.
"More enemies than friends, I am afraid, sir," was the answer, "for although I have tried my best to be friendly with the girls, they all treat me coldly; they are not at all like Miss Jennings."
"It is strange how they dislike and distrust each other," said Mr. Denton, sadly. "But I suppose it is because they have so little in life, they are constantly filled with envy over the possessions of others."
If Faith knew this to be a compliment she did not show it. So far it had not seemed to her that the girls were envious of her beauty.
"You may go now, Sam," said Mr. Denton, kindly, "and, see here, young man, keep your mouth shut about this matter! Not a single word until I give you permission!"
Sam promised faithfully, and was glad to do so. Since he had been restored to his position he had silently worshiped Mr. Denton.
"Now, Miss Marvin, I must caution you as I did Sam," said the gentleman. "Say nothing until the officer here has ferreted out this matter. A single word might put the criminal on guard, and a single utterance may delay the triumph of justice."
He dismissed the young girl with a courteous bow, and was surprised that she still lingered in a pleading manner.
"Please, Mr. Denton," she cried, brokenly, "don't try to ferret the matter out! I beg of you, sir, let it drop and keep it a secret! The injury to your son is no greater than to me, so let it go no further, I implore it, Mr. Denton!"
"What, pass an attempted murder by!" exclaimed Mr. Denton in amazement. "I am astonished, Miss Marvin, that you should make such a suggestion!"
"But I do make it!" cried Faith desperately, "and I beg that you will grant it! Surely it was I who was to be the victim. I should be allowed to forgive the culprit!"
"On what grounds?" asked Mr. Denton, who was trying to exercise justice.
"On the grounds that it will do no good to expose or punish," cried Faith eagerly, "for a person who could do a deed like that can be saved by mercy, but not by justice!"
Mr. Denton looked thoughtfully, but he could not accede to her request. He did not believe that even a Christian could ignore the laws of man in such a matter.
"No, Miss Marvin," he said, firmly, "the criminal must be exposed. It is the only way to stop a repetition of such cowardly actions!"
"It was a woman who did it without doubt!" broke in the detective sharply, "and she'll do it again, sure, if she isn't punished! A woman that hates like that will stop at nothing!"
Faith glanced at him reproachfully, but did not answer. She did not mean by word or look to betray her suspicions.
"I will not ask you to state whom you suspect, Miss Marvin," said Mr. Denton, "for I see in your face that you would not tell me; but in regard to my son, I must talk with you later. You are under my protection, and not even my own flesh and blood shall be allowed to annoy you."
"I am sure it is not his wish to annoy me," said Faith. "He just doesn't understand that some girls are different from others. He has met only the weak ones who could not withstand his flattery, but I can take care of myself, sir, or, if not, God will protect me."
"Alas! you do not know human nature yet, my child," said Mr. Denton, gazing at her with an expression of almost fatherly interest, "but pray always that your trust may be as steadfast as now—that it will never be shattered on the rocks of sorrow and misfortune."
Faith passed out of his presence with a last pleading glance—she seemed to be mutely imploring his mercy toward the guilty.
CHAPTER XXIX.
A VISITOR AT THE FLAT.
For the next few days Faith heard no more about the box of poisoned candy, but she was not allowed to entirely forget it, for Ben Tyler, the detective, almost haunted the department.
If he was looking for the culprit there he did not show it, for he laughed and chatted with all the girls whenever he had an opportunity.
Maggie Brady had come back to find her "bargain counter" gone, but Miss Fairbanks had already received orders to put her behind the regular counter.
This brought Faith and Maggie nearer together than ever, and the hatred in Maggie's face was very apparent, although she schooled herself to be fairly pleasant.
Faith treated her as kindly as possible, but for all that she occasionally caught Maggie glaring at her between half closed lids in a manner that thrilled her with fresh suspicions.
At those times Faith felt a nervousness that she could not control. She almost dreaded to turn her back upon the morbid young woman.
More than once she thought of Lou Willis' words that "Maggie Brady was a sneak and a coward, who waited until dark before attacking the object of her hatred."
But this always led her to think of Lou Willis, herself, and to question over and over her well meant decision to try and help the girl to be honest by not reporting her dishonesty.
She met Lou often now, and always talked to her cordially, but she could feel that she made slow headway into the young woman's confidence.
"You and I are so different," Miss Willis said one day. "You seem to enjoy playing the proprieties, while I just hate them!"
"But I don't think I am altogether proper, as you call it," Faith answered. "I do lots of things that are not conventional and lots that are unusual, still I always try to follow my conscience."
"Conscience, what's that?" asked Lou, with a grimace. "They made me without one I guess, and I'm mighty glad of it!"
"But surely you wish to do right, don't you, Miss Willis?"
Faith's eyes were eager with hope as she asked the question.
"Oh, what difference does it make whether I do or don't? Do what you please and don't get caught, that's my motto!" laughed the girl.
"But you surely will get caught some day," said Faith soberly. "No one can ignore or break the laws of God and man without being ultimately brought to punishment or repentance."
"Well, so far as the laws of God go, I'm not worrying," said Lou, with a shrug. "He made me as I am and as He wanted me, I suppose. I'm sure I hope He's satisfied with His creation! If He ain't, He can make me over if He's so almighty powerful, but when it comes to the laws of man, why that's a different matter."
"And how do you regard those?" asked Faith, trying hard not to be shocked. The woman's answer came like a clap of thunder.
"I look upon man's laws as my natural enemies," she said sullenly. "They are made by a lot of people who know nothing of misery or starvation, and who are as incompetent to judge my actions as I am to judge theirs. In other words, man's laws are all institutions of the devil! They force you to steal and then punish you for doing so!"
After a little of this reasoning Faith grew more helpless than ever. It was like trying to melt an iceberg with a sunbeam to thaw that callous nature. Only Lou's violent temper and intense hatred of her enemies kept the woman from being adamant in matters moral or spiritual.
She surprised Faith frequently with her outbursts of remorse, the most of which were bestowed in the direction of Miss Brady.
"I saw her smiling at you to-day," she said to Faith one night. "Look out for her, Miss Innocent, that's when she's most likely to stab you!"
Faith trembled for fear that Lou would hear in some way of the box of poisoned candy, but strangely enough it had been hushed up for the present.
Some power, unknown to Faith, had stopped every tongue from blabbing.
"I expect it is some of Mr. Denton's good work," she said to her mother one night as they sat at supper with little Dick between them. "If he can stop the gossip in the store he will accomplish a great deal, for I believe half of the bad friendships between the clerks are made through idle gossip."
"He is doing wonders," sighed Mrs. Marvin in answer. "At last I am hearing of what looks to be conscientious Christianity."
"You will hear of much more, I am sure, mother," said Faith, "for I am told that Mr. Forbes intends to remain in the firm, and that looks as if he indorsed Mr. Denton."
"Or awaiting the outcome," added her mother quietly. She could never quite accept her daughter's innocent reasoning.
While they were still talking, a letter was delivered from Mr. Watkins.
He was "doing nicely at the hospital," he said, and "on the straight road to recovery," but what was better still, Mr. Denton was coming for his mother and had assured him that his position at the store was still open to him.
"Mr. Forbes must certainly acquiesce to that, mother," said Faith again, "for Mr. Watkins was his office assistant; Mr. Denton would hardly put him back if his partner was not willing."
Mrs. Marvin was about to reply when their bell rang sharply. Both rose from the table and went into the little parlor. A moment later some one tapped at the door, and Faith opened it promptly. She confronted an acquaintance; it was the man whom she had met, and who had written her the note signed "Cornelius C. Deering."
For an instant Faith was shocked out of every semblance of hospitality. She stood staring at the man as if he were an intruder.
Like a flash it passed through her mind that she had not answered his letter, and that he had presumed upon that silence to force his presence upon her. The next instant she was brought swiftly back to her senses, for the man was staring back at her as though she were a ghost, and the expression on his face was almost pitiful.
"What is it, sir? What has happened?" she asked, taking a step forward.
"I think I have made a mistake," said the man, huskily. "I had no idea, I assure you, of intruding upon you."
"There are twenty families in the house, so your mistake is natural," said Faith coldly. "Pray mention the name you wish, as I can probably direct you."
"I am looking for a lady and her daughter," said the man distinctly, "the lady is my sister whom I have not seen in twenty years. She is a widow, and her name is Mrs. Adelaide Marvin."
With a gasp of horror Faith staggered back into the room just as her mother sprang forward with a joyous greeting.
"Oh, Charles, my brother!" she cried, falling on his shoulder. "How I have longed to see you, you naughty boy, every day since you ran away from us in dear old England!"
CHAPTER XXX.
THE UNEXPECTED FORTUNE.
The next act of Faith's was one of noble heroism. In that moment of misery she forced herself to think only of her mother, thus ignoring her own position in the matter entirely.
Without a word she walked back into the kitchen, leaving brother and sister together, and taking little Dick in her lap, tried to think the matter over as calmly as possible.
It was an embarrassing position, look at it as she would, but not so much for herself as for the man whom she now knew to be her own uncle.
As the moments passed she heard her mother's voice grow more and more pleading, and although she could not hear what was being said, she conjectured rightly that she was urging her brother to accede to something, while he as steadily refused the accession.
Finally the hall door closed and Faith heard him descending the stairs. In an instant she hurried to join her mother in the parlor.
"Oh, Faith!" cried her mother, "can you believe it, dear, it was brother Charles, alive and well, when I had given him up for dead over and over again! And, Faith, you will never have to work another day, for we are almost rich, dear brother says. He has fifty thousand dollars in trust for me from my father's estate, which has only lately been settled!"
"Oh, mother, is it possible?" cried Faith in surprise; "but why did he leave so soon? You had surely not finished talking!"
Mrs. Marvin shook her head in a very perplexed manner.
"He seems sadly changed, Faith. I don't know what ails him. I begged him to wait and see my daughter, but he refused almost angrily."
"Oh, well, never mind!" replied Faith blushing. "He will probably come back again. I would not worry about it, mother."
"But I can't understand it," said Mrs. Marvin, sighing. "It seems unnatural that Charles should not wish to see my daughter."
Faith tried to cheer her, but she was almost crying herself. Another shock like this would have brought on hysterics. It had been a dreadful trial to her to keep that strange conversation from her mother, but now she was profoundly thankful that she had been able to do so, and almost involuntarily she whispered a prayer that no word of hers might ever disturb her dear mother's confidence in her only brother.
The thought of no more work did not once enter her mind. It was with some difficulty that her mother finally got her to talk about their good fortune.
"It is not for myself that I am most thankful," said Mrs. Marvin, "but I am so glad that you can be at home once more! No more wearing out soul and body in the service of others."
Faith looked at her thoughtfully before she answered.
"How soon can we have the money?" she asked.
"Right away," said Mrs. Marvin; "it is invested in this city. I have only to be identified at the bank by my brother."
"I am very glad, mother," was Faith's smiling reply, "for now we can hire a better flat and have a woman to do the work and look after everything, but about my working, dear, please don't think of that just now—really I seem to feel a little bit sorry to think that there is no need of my working."
"You mean that you are interested in those poor girls, I suppose." said her mother. "Well, there will be other ways to help them now—you need not work among them."
"But I am sure that it is the best way to be of use to them," said Faith quickly. "If they thought I had money they would not accept me seriously. They would say, as they have said of other rich women, that my interest is a 'fad' and that I could 'afford to talk religion with my pocket full of money.'"
"You have learned their arguments quickly," said Mrs. Marvin with a smile, "but listen, Faith! There is some one in the hall! It is possible that Charles has returned for something."
Faith opened the door, nervously, but a look of relief soon crossed her face. The second caller was none other than young Mr. Denton.
"Thank goodness, I've found you!" exclaimed the young man coolly. "I've been wandering around these halls for the past half hour, either I'm awfully stupid or the bells are all wrong, for I've rung them all and nobody has answered! You should supply your friends with compasses and charts, Miss Marvin, so they won't get lost when they come to see you!"
Faith had to smile, although she was a trifle indignant. She could not imagine what had brought the young man to her apartments.
"Did you wish to see me about anything?" she asked bluntly as her thoughts flew instinctively to the poisoned candy. "If you do, please come in, and I will be glad to listen."
"I do, indeed," responded the young man. "I should not have dreamed of intruding upon you without a very good reason."
Faith was almost sure it was the candy now, although she had been assured by his father that he had been told nothing about it.
As she introduced him to her mother, she was anxious and excited, and one conjecture as to his errand followed swiftly after another. When they were seated Mr. Denton started at once on his errand, and as he talked he gazed at Faith earnestly, as though trying to read her emotion.
"My errand is a purely personal one," he began, "and you ladies may think it a selfish one also, but the fact is I have come for a little assistance. I want you, Miss Marvin, to help me reason with my father."
Faith made an exclamation of unfeigned surprise.
"I don't understand," she said slowly. "What is wrong with your father, Mr. Denton?"
"That's what I'd like to know," was the emphatic answer, "but between you and I, it's my opinion that he's crazy!"
Mrs. Marvin and Faith both stared at him curiously, for this time there was more sadness than disrespect in his language.
"Listen to this," he went on quickly, "and see if I am not right! I will put the situation before you without a particle of exaggeration."
"Wait!" said Mrs. Marvin. "What does all this concern us, sir? Are you not doing wrong to talk to strangers about your father's business?"
A smile passed over the young man's features, and he turned toward Faith with a glance of admiration.
"I think not," he said shortly, "and for this simple reason—he admires your daughter above any girl that he has met; she has influenced him in the past and can influence him again in the future. And he is sadly in need of influence, I can assure you," he continued, "for, at the present moment, he is on the verge of two things, they are the verge of bankruptcy and the verge of insanity!"
Mrs. Marvin looked shocked, but Faith's brow became clearer. It was coming to her now what was troubling young Denton.
The young man went on with hardly a perceptible pause, his face growing more handsome and manly as he became interested and excited.
"My father to-day is worth a million dollars, a large percentage of it having been made in his present business. He is prominent both in social and business circles, and up to the present his ability has never been questioned. To-day he has changed all this as far as it is possible to change it in the short period of a week. He is making arrangements to transact his business on what he calls a 'religious basis,' which means that he intends to transact worldly affairs by heavenly methods, and it does not take much intelligence to see where he will terminate. He will be a bankrupt in five years, if he isn't sooner, for no fortune in the world would float such an enterprise. Now, I can't see this go on without making an effort to stop it, but as I have little or no influence with him myself, I have come to Miss Marvin to ask her to help me."
"What do you wish my daughter to do?" Mrs. Marvin asked the question with a little amusement.
"I hardly know," was his honest answer, "but if she could just induce him to think that God did not expect such a sacrifice and that it was only necessary to do good in moderation, it might act as a restraint on his wholesale generosity, put a brake, so to speak, on his downward course to failure."
"But I think it an upward course to victory!" said Faith with enthusiasm. "And you have no idea how I honor your father for taking it! Just think, Mr. Denton, what good his money can do! Why, it is a duty which he owes by right to God, for who else gave him the ability to make all this money?"
"Do you think God gave it to him?" asked Mr. Denton, quickly. "Well, I should have said that his most successful methods were invented by the devil!"
"Then it is time to put his ill-gotten wealth to good account! I am astonished, Mr. Denton, that you should wish him to retain it!"
Faith's eyes were fairly blazing now, but the look of admiration only deepened upon young Denton's features.
There was a cry from little Dick in the kitchen just then, and Mrs. Marvin rose hastily and excused herself to go to him.
"Miss Marvin," urged the young man, "don't be harsh in your judgment, please! Remember I have been used to luxury all my life. My mother has been used to it—we cannot bear to lose it."
He bent toward the young girl as he said the words, and as Faith saw the eagerness in his face, a great wave of pity surged up within her.
He was thoughtless, even wicked, but he was not altogether to blame. The very luxury that he craved was responsible for it.
"I would like to help you if I could," she said very gently, "but you surely would not have me go against my own conscience."
"No, I don't know that I would," said young Denton slowly, "for if you did you would not be what you are just now, the embodiment of all that is best and sweetest in woman."