But, just now, in the midst of his discourse on foreign missions, he had been arrested for an instant by meeting the straight, intent gaze of the young woman who always, unless directly addressed, kept her discreet eyes upon her work.
Miss Craig put on her hat and gathered up her handkerchief and purse.
"May I trouble you to post these, Miss Craig?" said Christy, giving her a handful of letters. "Thank you. Good afternoon."
She laid the letters down on the mantelpiece while she opened her purse, which was shapely but thin. Out of it she took a dollar bill, leaving some silver, and put it in the money box.
Christy had started up to expostulate. He sat down to recover.
"She was as calm and matter-of-course about it," he gasped, "as if it were only natural for poor working girls to help evangelize China out of their slim wages."
During the next two or three days much notice was taken of the missionary box.
The notice was diverse in kind. The curiosity of some was quickly satisfied. Some stared politely. Others openly scoffed.
One fashionable club man put in a penny.
"To see how it feels," he said.
"The shock can't be very great," observed Christy, "even to so new a subject as yourself."
"But you know," said the club man with a grin,
