I am so close that I can feel the daily throb of their need, and they
can feel the throb of my sympathy. Oh! it is work fit for a saviour of
men, and what--what can I do with it?"

I sank into my small rocking-chair, and, clasping my arms over my head,
bent it upon the table and closed my eyes.

The dazzling California sunshine streamed in at the western windows,
touched the gold-fish globes with rosy glory, glittered on the brass
bird-cages, flung a splendid halo round the meek head of the Madonna
above my table, and poured a flood of grateful heat over my shoulders.
The clatter of a tin pail outside the door, the uncertain turning of a
knob by a hand too small to grasp it: "I forgitted my lunch bucket, 'n
had to come back five blocks. Good-by, Miss Kate." (Kiss.) "Good-by,
little man; run along." Another step, and a curly little red head pushes
itself apologetically through the open door. "You never dave me back my
string and buzzer, Miss Kate." "Here it is; leave it at home to-morrow
if you can, dear,--will you?"

Silence again, this time continued and profound. Mrs. Weiss was
evidently not coming to-day to ask me if she should give blow for blow
in her next connubial fracas. I was thankful to be spared until the
morrow, when I should perhaps have greater strength to attack Mr. Weiss,
and see what I could do for Mrs. Pulaski's dropsy, and find a mourning
bonnet and shawl for the Gabilondo's funeral and clothes for the new
Higgins twins. (Oh, Mrs. Higgins, would not one have sufficed you?)

The events of the day march through my tired brain; so tired! so tired!
and just a bit discouraged and sad too. Had I been patient enough with
the children? Had I forgiven cheerfully enough the seventy times seven