there did not seem
to be anyone who could offer to do this--unless it was Mrs. Falconer.
The church was small, and the Ladies' Aid smaller. There were only
twelve members in it; four of these were unmarried ladies who boarded,
and so were helpless in the matter; of the remaining eight seven had
large families, or sick husbands, or something else that prevented
them from offering Camilla Clark an asylum. Their excuses were all
valid; they were good, sincere women who would have taken her in if
they could, but they could not see their way clear to do so. However,
it was probable they would eventually manage it in some way if Mrs.
Falconer did not rise to the occasion.

Nobody liked to ask Mrs. Falconer outright to take Camilla Clark in,
yet everyone thought she might offer. She was comfortably off, and
though her house was small, there was nobody to live in it except
herself and her husband. But Mrs. Falconer sat silent through all the
discussion of the Ladies' Aid, and never opened her lips on the
subject of Camilla Clark despite the numerous hints which she
received.

Miss Bailey made one more effort as aforesaid. When her despairing
reference to Providence brought forth no results, she wished she dared
ask Mrs. Falconer openly to take Camilla Clark, but somehow she did
not dare. There were not many things that could daunt Miss Bailey, but
Mrs. Falconer's reserve and gentle aloofness always could.

When Miss Bailey had gone on down the village street, Mrs. Falconer
paused for a few moments at her gate, apparently lost in deep thought.
She was perfectly well aware of all the hints that had been thrown out
for her benefit that afternoon. She knew that the Aids, one and all,
thought that she ought to take Camilla Clark. But she had no room to
give her--for it was out of the question to think of putting her in
Missy's room.

"I couldn't do such a thing," she said to herself piteously. "They
don't understand--they can't understand--but I _couldn't_ give her
Missy's room. I'm sorry for poor Camilla, and I wish I could help her.
But I can't give her Missy's room, and I have no other."

The little Falconer cottage, set back from the road in the green
seclusion of an apple orchard and thick, leafy maples, was a very tiny
one. There were just two rooms downstairs and two upstairs. When Mrs.
Falconer entered the kitchen an old-looking man with long white hair
and mild blue eyes looked up with a smile from the bright-coloured