"The House is
going to the Devil, Charley, headlong."
"There's no use in saying no," said the other; "you'll call me a
lying diviner."
Knowles did not listen.
"Seems as if I am to go groping and stumbling through the world
like some forsaken Cyclops with his eye out, dragging down
whatever I touch. If there were anything to hold by, anything
certain!"
Vandyke looked at him gravely, but did not answer; rose and
walked indolently up and down to keep himself warm. A lithe,
slow figure, a clear face with delicate lips, and careless eyes
that saw everything: the face of a man quick to learn, and slow
to teach.
"There she comes!" said Knowles, as the lock of the gate rasped.
Holmes had heard the slow step in the snow long before. A small
woman came out, and went down the silent street into the road
beyond. Holmes kept his back turned to her, lighting his cigar;
the other men watched her eagerly.
"What do you think, Vandyke?" demanded Knowles. "How will she
do?"
"Do for what?"--resuming his lazy walk. "You talk as if she were
a machine. It is the way with modern reformers. Men are so many
ploughs and harrows to work on `the classes.' Do for what?"
Knowles flushed hotly.
"The work the Lord has left for her. Do you mean to say there is
none to do,--you, pledged to Missionary labour?"
The young man's face coloured.
"I know this street needs paving terribly, Knowles; but I don't
see a boulder in your hands. Yet the great Task-master does not
despise the pavers.
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