"Oh, so am I. I think it's just magnificent of you to help them."

Kate disclaimed the magnificence.

"You mustn't forget that I'm doing it for money," she said. "It's my
job. I hope I'll do it well enough to win the reputation of being
honest, but you mustn't think there's anything saintly about me,
because there isn't. Good-bye. Hold on tight, children!"

She nodded cheerfully and moved on, fresh, strong, determined, along the
crowded thoroughfare, the people making way for her smilingly. She saw
nothing of the attention paid her. She was wondering if her arms would
hold out or if, in some unguarded moment, the baby would slip from them.
Perhaps the baby was fearful, too, for it reached up its little clawlike
hands and clasped her tight about the neck. Kate liked the feeling of
those little hands, and was sorry when they relaxed and the weary little
one fell asleep.

Each day brought new problems. If she could have decided these by mere
rule of common sense, her new vocation might not have puzzled her as
much as it did. But it was uncommon, superfine, intuitive sense that was
required. She discovered, for example, that not only was sin a virtue in
disguise, but that a virtue might be degraded into a sin.

She put this case to Honora and David one evening as the three of them
sat in Honora's drawing-room.

"It's the case of Peggy Dunn," she explained. "Peggy likes life. She has
brighter eyes than she knows what to do with and more smiles than she
has a chance to distribute. She has finished her course at the parochial