A HEAVENLY INSPECTOR.
When Faith Marvin reached home after her unpleasant interview with the
well-dressed stranger, she was in a state of nervousness that nearly
bordered upon hysterics. The fact that Bob Hardy was a witness to what
she had supposed was a mere accidental meeting gave her an instinctive
clue to the identity of the man, and her cheeks flushed with shame as
she connected him in her thoughts with that insulting proposition of the
detective.
She had tried to compose herself, as usual, before going into her
mother's presence, and succeeded so well that when they retired Mrs.
Marvin had no suspicion of the interview. Neither did Faith acquaint her
with the extraordinary suspicions against Mr. Watkins, which she now
felt ashamed to think she had harbored for a second.
She was much troubled in mind about the latter, for while she felt in
her heart that Mr. Watkins was innocent she could not help thinking that
he, too, was shielding a thief. She wondered if it was because he felt
the same on the subject as had his sweetheart, Miss Jennings. She said
her prayers quietly and felt more tranquil after. There was a balm in
religion for her trusting heart, which she begged with all her soul to
share with others.
It was during this hour that she thought of Mr. Forbes, whom she knew
was to bury his only son on the morrow. Suddenly the thought flitted
through her head that perhaps employees were somewhat to blame for not
expressing more sympathy for their employers in all serious matters.
"Perhaps they think us as heartless as we think them," she whispered to
herself; then the impulse came over her to write Mr. Forbes a letter.
She rose quietly, so as not to wake her mother, and penned him the note.
It came straight from her heart. She told him she was sorry for his
sorrow. Early the next morning she went out and mailed it. Little Dick
went with her, hobbling along on clumsy crutches. The child had fallen
in love with her at once, and, although he often cried for his sister,
Faith could always cheer him and change his tears to laughter.
Late in the afternoon she rode down to the undertaker's. She had not
become reconciled yet to parting with Miss Jennings.
As she reached the door two women were just leaving; they were Miss
Fairbanks, the buyer, and Maggie Brady. Faith was startled for a minute,
for she could not understand their interest. Neither one of them had
ever shown the faintest liking for the dead girl, but now she noticed
with surprise that they had both been crying. "Truly, every cloud has a
silver lining," she murmured to herself, "and who knows but what this is
the first glimpse of the lining! Oh, I do hope it will soon show itself
to poor Mr. Watkins."
The two women had passed her with a mere nod of the head. She opened the
door of the establishment and confronted Mr. Watkins.
"Oh, what is it?" she cried, involuntarily, as she saw his face. "Don't,
dear Mr. Watkins; don't take it so badly."
Mr. Watkins put his hand on her arm as she spoke. He was so faint and
weak that he seemed obliged to lean on something.
"I--I have explained that matter about the money," he whispered,
hoarsely. "Hardy will not annoy you any longer. The thief has been
discovered."
He looked so wretched that the tears sprang to Faith's eyes.
"I am glad it is explained," she answered, hastily, "but you are ill,
Mr. Watkins. You should go home this minute."
"Home--home!" repeated Mr. Watkins in a vacant manner.
Then with a fearful groan of agony he collapsed completely. As he fell
to the floor several of the undertaker's clerks rushed forward and
lifted him up.
"Another victim of conditions, of greed and avarice," said a voice in
Faith's ear.
She turned quickly and recognized Miss Alma Dean, the woman inspector,
whose card she had in her pocket.
Without waiting for Faith to answer, the lady went on speaking. The men
were laying Mr. Watkins on a sofa not twenty feet away from the body of
his dead sweetheart.
"That poor fellow was a picture of health two years ago, before he
entered the employ of Denton, Day & Co. I know his mother well; she is a
lovely woman, and he has a younger brother who is also in that store,
and liable to follow in this poor chap's footsteps. I just came in to
look at that poor girl. I want to stamp her face indelibly upon my
memory. Thank fortune I am in a position to remedy some of the evils in
this world. As Government Inspector I can do considerable, but I must
learn the length and breadth of the evil before I am fit to attack it."
Faith listened breathlessly to every word. The proprietor of the place
was also listening, and as she finished, he nodded his head as though he
quite agreed with her.
Mr. Watkins was rapidly reviving under the kind care bestowed upon him,
but before he was fairly alive to his surroundings Miss Dean took
Faith's hand and led her out on to the sidewalk.
"They will take him home--they are very kind people," said the lady,
sadly, "but now, dear, you and I are confronted with a problem. How are
we to prevent the repetition of this horror?"
As Miss Dean asked the question she did not really seem to expect an
answer from Faith; it was more like a spoken expression of thoughts that
were vexing her, made to one whom she knew was thoroughly sympathetic.
"This is the saddest demonstration of injustice that I have ever
witnessed," she went on, slowly, "yet I know it is mild in comparison
with others. It lacks the hideousness of exposure, so far as you see. We
only know that one more crime has been added to the list, yet the
details of that crime have been carefully spared us."
Faith knew that she referred to poor Mary's death, but she could find
no words with which to manifest the depth of her sorrow.
"The fear of the law is our only hope, I guess," went on Miss Dean.
"They must be forced to comply with certain regulations. Many of the
stores are doing so, under no compulsion whatever, but these people seem
deaf to everything but the jingle of their dollars."
"But the law cannot change their hearts," muttered Faith, at last, "so
the cure that it effects must of necessity be superficial. Oh, if only
the fear of the Lord could be instilled into their system. If they could
only be made to feel that to Him they are accountable!" She spoke with
enthusiasm, her eyes and cheeks brightening.
"You are a good ally," said Miss Dean, watching her, "but, my dear, the
day of miracles is ended."
"But with God all things are possible! It would be no miracle for Him! I
did not mean to infer that I or any human being could reach their
hearts, still our words and our prayers, are they not noble weapons?"
"I am not so sure," said the inspector, gravely. "I think, dear, I am
better fitted to experiment on a purely worldly basis. For instance, I
have already reported the condition of that cloak-room, the drainage,
ventilation and unsuitable location. Then I have mentioned the
inadequate fire appliances in the building as well as the long hours you
girls are obliged to stand and the short time which you are allowed for
luncheon. I think that several of these matters will be changed at once,
but there are others which will take longer or which may never be
accomplished."
"It will make them very angry, will it not, when they hear of your
report? And the alterations will be expensive, especially when it comes
to altering the cloak-room."
"Oh, well, we inspectors cannot worry over any personal feelings, my
dear. Our duty is to make right all wrong conditions. We are to look
after the health of people, not their money. The only question is how to
do this in the quickest possible manner."
Faith glanced at her sharply. She was a handsome woman. There was a
resolution in her face that commanded instant admiration.
"I am glad to have seen you to-day," Miss Dean said as they reached the
corner. "I find my sympathies are more and more enlisted through
acquaintance with you girls. Why, I feel that I would like your
employers to spend millions in making your labors a little lighter."
She smiled pleasantly as she spoke and offered Faith her hand.
"Good-by, dear," she said brightly, "there's a good time coming."
Faith watched her as she boarded a car--she was so ambitious, so full of
vigor and so nobly intentioned.
"If she were only an inspector sent from God, now," she whispered, then
a tremor shot over her frame at such a wonderful suggestion.
"Why should I not be an inspector sent from God," she murmured, "to seek
out the dark places and let in the light? If it is only a candle flame
it will help a little."
She turned abstractedly, almost dazed by her thoughts.
The next instant she was brought almost rudely to her senses. Some one
had called her by name. She turned and faced young Denton.