moment since that motor car turned out of the gate,
bearing away the bride and bridegroom, a glow of warmth took the place
of the blank ache in the place where my heart used to be. It hurt a
little, just as it hurts when the circulation returns to frozen limbs,
but it was a wholesome hurt, a hundred times better than the calm that
had gone before. There glowed through my veins the exultation of the
martyr. Now farewell to ease and luxury, to personal desires and
ambitions. Henceforth I lived only to serve the race!

"Oh, Auntie, it's a glorious idea. Why didn't I think of it before? My
vocation is ready and waiting for me, but I should never have found it
if it hadn't been for you! Why shouldn't I take a little flat in some
unfashionable block, and play good fairy to my neighbours? A free,
unmarried woman is _so_ useful! There ought to be one in every family,
a permanent `Aunt Mary,' to lend a hand in its joys and sorrows, its
spring cleanings, and its--jams! Nowadays Aunt Marys are so scarce.
They are absorbed in their own schemes. Why shouldn't I take up the
role, and be a universal fairy to the mansions--devoting my idle time to
other people who need me, ready to love and to scold, to bake and to
brew, to put my fingers in other people's pies, leaving behind sugar for
them, and pulling out plums for myself of soothing, and comfort, and
joy!" My voice broke suddenly. I was awfully lonely, and the thought
of those figurative plums cut to the heart. The tears trickled down my
cheeks; I forgot where I was, and to whom I was speaking, and just
sobbed out all that was in my heart.

"Oh! Oh! To be needed again! To have some one to care for! That
would help--that would fill the gap--that would make life worth while."

Instinctively I stretched out my hands, in appeal for sympathy and
understanding.

"Oh, don't be silly!" said Aunt Eliza.

CHAPTER THREE.

CHARMION FANE INTERVENES.

During the next days the idea of making my home in London, and playing
fairy godmother to the tenants in a block of flats, took an
ever-deepening root in my heart. I pondered on it incessantly and
worked out plans as to ways and means.

Bridget should go with me as general factotum, for my method of living
must be as simple as possible, since the neighbours would be more likely
to confide their troubles to the ear of one who was, apparently, in the
same position of life as themselves. Smart clothing would be
unnece