d nurse the Old
Lady. Several other women offered assistance. Everybody was kind and
thoughtful. But the Old Lady did not know it. She did not even know
Sylvia Gray, who came and sat by her every minute she could spare.
Sylvia Gray now knew all that she had suspected--the Old Lady was her
fairy godmother. The Old Lady babbled of Sylvia incessantly, revealing
all her love for her, betraying all the sacrifices she had made.
Sylvia's heart ached with love and tenderness, and she prayed earnestly
that the Old Lady might recover.

"I want her to know that I give her love for love," she murmured.

Everybody knew now how poor the Old Lady really was. She let slip all
the jealously guarded secrets of her existence, except her old love for
Leslie Gray. Even in delirium something sealed her lips as to that.
But all else came out--her anguish over her unfashionable attire,
her pitiful makeshifts and contrivances, her humiliation over wearing
unfashionable dresses and paying only five cents where every other
Sewing Circle member paid ten. The kindly women who waited on her
listened to her with tear-filled eyes, and repented of their harsh
judgments in the past.

"But who would have thought it?" said Mrs. Spencer to the minister's
wife. "Nobody ever dreamed that her father had lost ALL his money,
though folks supposed he had lost some in that old affair of the silver
mine out west. It's shocking to think of the way she has lived all these
years, often with not enough to eat--and going to bed in winter days to
save fuel. Though I suppose if we had known we couldn't have done much
for her, she's so desperate proud. But if she lives, and will let us
help her, things will be different after this. Crooked Jack says he'll
never forgive himself for taking pay for the few little jobs he did for
her. He says, if she'll only let him, he'll do everything she wants done
for her after this for nothing. Ain't it strange what a fancy she's took
to Miss Gray? Think of her doing all those things for her all summer,
and selling the grape jug and all. Well, the Old Lady certainly isn't
mean, but nobody made a mistake in calling her queer. It all does seem
desperate pitiful. Miss Gray's taking it awful hard. She seems to think
about as much of the Old Lady as the Old Lady thinks of her. She's so
worked up she don't even seem to care about going to Europe next year.
She's really going--she's had word from Andrew Cameron. I'm awful glad,
for there nev