visitor from a world she
had almost forgotten and finding nothing but tenderness there, said with
just a trace of bewilderment: "Thank you yes, do sit down; my workbasket
is just inside the door. Take that rocking-chair; I don't have another
one out here because I have never been in the habit of seeing visitors."

"I hope I am not intruding," stammered Waitstill, seating herself and
beginning her knitting, to see if it would lessen the sense of strain
between them.

"Not at all. I always loved young and beautiful people, and so did my
husband. If he comes while you are here, do not go away, but sit with
him while I get his supper. If Elder Cochrane should be with him,
you would see two wonderful men. They went away together to do some
missionary work in Maine and New Hampshire and perhaps they will come
back together. I do not welcome callers because they always ask so many
difficult questions, but you are different and have asked me none at
all."

"I should not think of asking questions, Mrs. Boynton."

"Not that I should mind answering them," continued Ivory's mother,
"except that it tires my head very much to think. You must not imagine I
am ill; it is only that I have a very bad memory, and when people ask me
to remember something, or to give an answer quickly, it confuses me the
more. Even now I have forgotten why you came, and where you live; but I
have not forgotten your beautiful name."

"Ivory thought you might be lonely, and I wanted so much to know you
that I could not keep away any longer, for I am lonely and unhappy too.
I am always watching and hoping for what has never come yet. I have no
mother, you have lost your daughter; I thought--I thought--perhaps we
could be a comfort to each other!" And Waitstill rose from her chair
and put out her hand to help Mrs. Boynton down the steps, she looked
so frail, so transparent, so prematurely aged. "I could not come very
often--but if I could only smooth your hair sometimes when your head
aches, or do some cooking for you, or read to you, or any little thing
like that, as I would fer my own mother--if I could, I should be so
glad!"

Waitstill stood a head higher than Ivory's mother and the glowing health
of her, the steadiness of her voice, the warmth of her hand-clasp must
have made her seem like a strong refuge to this storm-tossed derelict.
The deep furrow between Lois Boynton's eyes relaxed a trifle, the blood
in her veins ran a little more swiftly unde