"It is all so hopeless," said Charlie, at last, in a tone that told
more clearly than words could have done his own hopelessness. "I--it
don't seem right for Mary to have to bear it, too."
"I'm sorry, son," was all that the old workman said, but Captain
Charlie knew that his father understood.
After that they did not speak until they heard an automobile stop in
front of the house.
"That must be Mary now," said Pete, looking at his watch. "They have
never been so late before."
They heard her step on the porch. The sound of the automobile died away
in the distance.
When Mary came in and they saw her face, they knew that Charlie was
right. She tried to return their greetings in her usual manner but
failed pitifully and hurried on to her room.
The two men looked at each other without a word.
Presently Mary returned and told them a part of her evening's
experience. Soon after her father and brother had left the house for
the meeting of their union, a boy from the Flats came with the word
that the wife of one of Jake Vodell's followers was very ill. Mary,
knowing the desperate need of the case but fearing to be alone in that
neighborhood at night, had telephoned John at the Mill and he had taken
her in his car to the place.
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