the cupboard there was
only the heel of a loaf--no butter, no cheese, no jam.

"I'm at the end of my tether," Miss Abbot admitted. "And unless I touch
the money laid away for my rent, I haven't a penny in the house."

"Then," said Jean, "it was high time I turned up." She heated the teapot
and poked the bit of coal into a blaze. "Now here's your tea"--she
reached for her bag that lay on the table--"and here's some money to go
on with. Oh, please don't let's go over it all again. Do, my dear, be
reasonable."

"I doubt it's charity," said poor Miss Abbot, "but I cannot refuse.
Indeed, I don't seem to take it in.... I've whiles dreamed something
like this, and cried when I wakened. This last year has been something
awful--trying to hide my failing eye-sight and pretending I didn't need
sewing when I was near starving, and always seeing the workhouse before
me. When I got up this morning there seemed to be a high wall in front
of me, and I knew I had come to the end. I thought God had forgotten
me."

"Not a bit of it," said Jean. "Put away that money like a sensible body,
and I'll write to my lawyer to-day. And the next thing to do is to go
with me to an oculist, for your eyes may not be as bad as you think.
You know, Miss Abbot, you haven't treated your friends well, keeping
them all at arm's length because you were in trouble. Friends do like to
be given the chance of being useful.... Now I'll tell you what to do.
This is a nice fresh day. You go and do some shopping, and be sure and
get something nice for your supper, and fresh butter and marmalade and
things, and then go for a walk along Tweedside and let the wind blow on
you, and then drop in and have a cup of tea and a gossip with one of the
friends you've been neglecting lately, and you see if you don't feel
heaps better.... Remember nobody knows anything about this but you and
me. I shan't even tell Mr. Macdonald.... You will get papers and things
to sign, I expect, from the lawyer, and if you want anything explained
you will come to The Rigs, won't you? Perhaps you would rather I didn't
come here much. Good morning, Miss Abbot," and Jean went away. "For all
the world," as Miss Abbot said to herself, "as if lifting folk from the
miry clay and setting their feet on a rock was all in the day's work."

* * * * *

The days slipped away and March came and David was home again; such a
smart David in new clothes and (like Shakespeare's