steamers; and the next morning I saw a new picture of her, and read
a few words her husband had condescended to say to a fellow
traveller about the courtesy of Europe to visiting Americans. Then
for a couple of months I heard no more of them. I was busy with my
child-labour work, and I doubt if a thought of Sylvia crossed my
mind, until that never-to-be-forgotten afternoon at Mrs. Allison's
when she came up to me and took my hand in hers.

6. Mrs. Roland Allison was one of the comfortable in body who had
begun to feel uncomfortable in mind. I had happened to meet her at
the settlement, and tell her what I had seen in the glass factories;
whereupon she made up her mind that everybody she knew must hear me
talk, and to that end gave a reception at her Madison Avenue home.

I don't remember much of what I said, but if I may take the evidence
of Sylvia, who remembered everything, I spoke effectively. I told
them, for one thing, the story of little Angelo Patri. Little Angelo
was of that indeterminate Italian age where he helped to support a
drunken father without regard to the child-labour laws of the State
of New Jersey. His people were tenants upon a fruit-farm a couple of
miles from the glass-factory, and little Angelo walked to and from
his work along the railroad-track. It is a peculiarity of the
glass-factory that it has to eat its children both by day and by
night; and after working six hours before midnight and six more
after midnight, little Angelo was tired. He had no eye for the birds
and flowers on a beautiful spring morning, but as he was walking
home, he dropped in his tracks and fell asleep. The driver of the
first morning train on that branch-line saw what he took to be an
old coat lying on the track ahead, and did not stop to investigate.