blocks before him.

"Have you been lonely, Father?" said Mrs. Falconer tenderly.

He shook his head, still smiling.

"No, not lonely. These"--pointing to the blocks--"are so pretty. See
my house, Mother."

This man was Mrs. Falconer's husband. Once he had been one of the
smartest, most intelligent men in Lindsay, and one of the most trusted
employees of the railroad company. Then there had been a train
collision. Malcolm Falconer was taken out of the wreck fearfully
injured. He eventually recovered physical health, but he was from that
time forth merely a child in intellect--a harmless, kindly creature,
docile and easily amused.

Mrs. Falconer tried to dismiss the thought of Camilla Clark from her
mind, but it would not be dismissed. Her conscience reproached her
continually. She tried to compromise with it by saying that she would
go down and see Camilla that evening and take her some nice fresh
Irish moss jelly. It was so good for delicate people.

She found Camilla alone in the Barry sitting-room, and noticed with a
feeling that was almost like self-reproach how thin and frail and
white the poor young creature looked. Why, she seemed little more
than a child! Her great dark eyes were far too big for her wasted
face, and her hands were almost transparent.

"I'm not much better yet," said Camilla tremulously, in response to
Mrs. Falconer's inquiries. "Oh, I'm so slow getting well! And I
know--I feel that I'm a burden to everybody."

"But you mustn't think that, dear," said Mrs. Falconer, feeling more
uncomfortable than ever. "We are all glad to do all we can for you."

Mrs. Falconer paused suddenly. She was a very truthful woman and she
instantly realized that that last sentence was not true. She was not
doing all she could for Camilla--she would not be glad, she feared, to
do all she could.

"If I were only well enough to go to work," sighed Camilla. "Mr. Marks
says I can have a place in the shoe factory whenever I'm able to. But
it will be so long yet. Oh, I'm so tired and discouraged!"

She put her hands over her face and sobbed. Mrs. Falconer caught her
breath. What if Missy were somewhere alone in the world--ill,
friendless, with never a soul to offer her a refuge or a shelter? It
was so very, very probable. Before she could check herself Mrs.
Falconer spoke. "My dear, don't cry! I want you to come and stay with
me until you get perfectly well. You won't be a speck of trouble, and
I'll be glad to h