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〃I don't like that Hampton Hotel；〃 she flashed back。 〃I'mI'm not a
vagabondyet。〃
〃A vagabond！〃 he repeated。
She went on savagely with her work。。
〃You have two natures；〃 he exclaimed。 〃You are still a bourgeoise； a
Puritan。 You will not be yourself； you will not be free until you get
over that。〃
〃I'm not sure I want to get over it。〃
He leaned nearer to her。
〃But now that I have found you； Janet； I will not let you go。〃
〃You've no rights over me；〃 she cried； in sudden alarm and anger。 〃I'm
not doing this work； I'm not wearing myself out here for you。〃
〃Thenwhy are you doing it？〃 His suspicions rose again； and made him
reckless。
〃To help the strikers；〃 she said。。。。 He could get no more out of her；
and presently； when Anna Mower entered the room； he left it。。。。
More than once since her first visit to the soup kitchen in Dey Street
Janet had returned to it。 The universe rocked； but here was equilibrium。
The streets were filled with soldiers； with marching strikers； terrible
things were constantly happening； the tension at Headquarters never
seemed to relax。 Out in the world and within her own soul were strife
and suffering； and sometimes fear； the work in which she sought to lose
herself no longer sufficed to keep her from thinking； and the spectacle
when she returned homeof her mother's increasing apathy grew more and
more appalling。 But in Dey Street she gained calmness； was able to renew
something of that sense of proportion the lack of which； in the chaos in
which she was engulfed； often brought her to the verge of madness。 At
first she had had a certain hesitation about going back； and on the
occasion of her second visit had walked twice around the block before
venturing to enter。 She had no claim on this man。 He was merely a
chance acquaintance； a strangerand yet he seemed nearer to her； to
understand her better than any one else she knew in the world。 This was
queer； because she had not explained herself； nor had he asked her for
any confidences。 She would have liked to confide in himsome things： he
gave her the impression of comprehending life； of having； as his
specialty； humanity itself； he should； she reflected； have been a
minister； and smiled at the thought： ministers； at any rate； ought to be
like him； and then one might embrace Christianitythe religion of her
forefathers that Rolfe ridiculed。 But there was about Insall nothing of
religion as she had grown up to apprehend the term。
Now that she had taken her courage in her hands and renewed her visits；
they seemed to be the most natural proceedings in the world。 On that
second occasion； when she had opened the door and palpitatingly climbed
to the loft； the second batch of children were finishing their midday
meal；rather more joyously； she thought； than before；and Insall
himself was stooping over a small boy whom he had taken away from the
table。 He did not notice her at once； and Janet watched them。 The child
had a cough； his extreme thinness was emphasized by the coat he wore；
several sizes too large for him。
〃Yon come along with me； Marcus； I guess I can fit you out；〃 Insall was
saying； when he looked up and saw Janet。
〃Why； if it isn't Miss Bumpus！ I thought you'd forgotten us。〃
〃Oh no；〃 she protested。 〃I wanted to come。〃
〃Then why didn't you？〃
〃Well； I have come；〃 she said； with a little sigh； and he did not press
her further。 And she refrained from offering any conventional excuse；
such as that of being interested in the children。 She had come to see
him； and such was the faith with which he inspired hernow that she was
once more in his presencethat she made no attempt to hide the fact。
〃You've never seen my clothing store； have you？〃 he asked。 And with the
child's hand in his he led the way into a room at the rear of the loft。
A kit of carpenter's tools was on the floor； and one wall was lined with
box…like compartments made of new wood； each with its label in neat
lettering indicating the articles contained therein。 〃Shoes？〃 he
repeated； as he ran his eye down the labels and suddenly opened a drawer。
〃Here we are； Marcus。 Sit down there on the bench； and take off the
shoes you have on。〃
The boy had one of those long faces of the higher Jewish type；
intelligent； wistful。 He seemed dazed by Insall's kindness。 The shoes
he wore were those of an adult； but cracked and split； revealing the
cotton stocking and here and there the skin。 His little blue hands
fumbled with the knotted strings that served for facings until Insall；
producing a pocket knife； deftly cut the strings。
〃Those are summer shoes； Marcuswell ventilated。〃
〃They're by me since August；〃 said the boy。
〃And now the stockings；〃 prompted Insall。 The old ones； wet；
discoloured； and torn； were stripped off； and thick； woollen ones
substituted。 Insall； casting his eye over the open drawer； chose a pair
of shoes that had been worn； but which were stout and serviceable； and
taking one in his hand knelt down before the child。 〃Let's see how good
a guesser I am；〃 he said； loosening the strings and turning back the
tongue； imitating good…humouredly the deferential manner of a salesman of
footwear as he slipped on the shoe。 〃Why； it fits as if it were made for
you！ Now for the other one。 Yes； your feet are matesI know a man who
wears a whole size larger on his left foot。〃 The dazed expression
remained on the boy's face。 The experience was beyond him。 〃That's
better；〃 said Insall； as he finished the lacing。 〃Keep out of the snow；
Marcus； all you can。 Wet feet aren't good for a cough； you know。 And
when you come in to supper a nice doctor will be here； and we'll see if
we can't get rid of the cough。〃
The boy nodded。 He got to his feet； stared down at the shoes； and walked
slowly toward the door； where he turned。
〃Thank you； Mister Insall；〃 he said。
And Insall； still sitting on his heels； waved his hand。
〃It is not to mention it；〃 he replied。 〃Perhaps you may have a clothing
store of your own some daywho knows！〃 He looked up at Janet amusedly
and then； with a spring； stood upright； his easy； unconscious pose
betokening command of soul and body。 〃I ought to have kept a store；〃 he
observed。 〃I missed my vocation。〃
〃It seems to me that you missed a great many vocations；〃 she replied。
Commonplaces alone seemed possible； adequate。 〃I suppose you made all
those drawers yourself。〃
He bowed in acknowledgment of her implied tribute。 With his fine nose
and keen eyesset at a slightly downward angle； creased at the corners
with his thick； greying hair； despite his comparative youth he had the
look one associates with portraits of earlier； patriarchal Americans。。。。
These calls of Janet's were never of long duration。 She had fallen into
the habit of taking her lunch between one and two； and usually arrived
when the last installment of youngsters were finishing their meal；
sometimes they were filing out； stopping to form a group around Insall；
who always managed to say something amusingsomething pertinent and
good…naturedly personal。 For he knew most of them by name； and had
acquired a knowledge of certain individual propensities and
idiosyncrasies that delighted their companions。
〃What's the trouble； Stepanswallowed your spoon？〃 Stepan was known to
be greedy。 Or he would suddenly seize an unusually solemn boy from
behind and tickle him until the child screamed with laughter。 It was；
indeed； something of an achievement to get on terms of confidence with
these alien children of the tenements and the streets who from their
earliest years had been forced to shift for themselves； and many of whom
had acquired a precocious suspicion of Greeks bearing gifts。 Insall
himself had used the phrase； and explained it to Janet。 That sense of
caveat donor was perhaps their most pathetic characteristic。 But he
broke it down； broke down； too； the shyness accompanying it； the shyness
and solemnity emphasized in them by contact with hardship and poverty；
with the stark side of life they faced at home。 He had made themMrs。
Maturin once illuminatingly remarkedmore like children。 Sometimes he
went to see their parents；as in the case of Marcusto suggest certain
hygienic precautions in his humorous way； and his accounts of these
visits； too； were always humorous。 Yet through that humour ran a strain
of pathos that clutcheddespite her smileat Janet's heartstrings。
This gift of emphasizing and heightening tragedy while apparently dealing
in comedy she never ceased to wonder at。 She； too； knew that tragedy of
the tenements； of the poor； its sordidness and cruelty。 All her days she
had lived precariously near it； and lately she had visited these people；
had been torn by the sight of what they endured。 But Insall's jokes；
while they stripped it of sentimentality of which she had an instinctive
dislikemade it for her even more poignant。 One would have thought； to
have such an insight into it； that he too must have lived it； must have
been brought up in some dirty alley of a street。 That gift； of course；
must be a writer's gift。
When she saw the waifs trooping after him down the stairs； Mrs。 Maturin
called him th