Every day, from one quarter or another, came stories like these to the ears of Miss Maggie and Mr. Smith. But Miss Flora was seen very seldom. Then one day, about a month later, she appeared as before at the Duff cottage, breathless and agitated; only this time, plainly, she had been crying.

"Why, Flora, what in the world is the matter?" cried Miss Maggie, as she hurried her visitor into a comfortable chair and began to unfasten her wraps.

"I'll tell you in a minute. I came on purpose to tell you. But I want Mr. Smith, too. Oh, he ain't here, is he?" she lamented, with a disappointed glance toward the vacant chair by the table in the corner. "I thought maybe he could help me, some way. I won't go to Frank, or Jim. They've—they've said so many things. Oh, I did so hope Mr. Smith was here!"

"He is here, dear. He's in his room. He just came in. I'll call him," comforted Miss Maggie, taking off Miss Flora's veil and hat and smoothing back her hair. "But you don't want him to find you crying like this, Flora. What is it, dear?"

"Yes, yes, I know, but I'm not crying—I mean, I won't any more. And I'll tell you just as soon as you get Mr. Smith. It's only that I've been—so silly, I suppose. Please get Mr. Smith."

"All right, dear."

Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows, summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora's story.

"It all started, of course, from—from that day I brought the letter here—from that man in Boston with seven children, you know."

"Yes, I remember," encouraged Miss Maggie.

"Well, I—I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to—to take away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food and money, oh, lots of places here in town—everywhere, 'most, that I could find that anybody needed it."

"Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear." Miss Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.

"But they didn't turn out to be kind—all of 'em," quavered Miss Flora. "Some of 'em went wrong. I don't know why. I TRIED to do 'em all right!"

"Of course you did!"

"I know; but 'tain't those I came to talk about. It's the others—the letters."

"Letters?"

"Yes. I got 'em—lots of 'em—after the first one—the one you saw. First I got one, then another and another, till lately I've been getting 'em every day, 'most, and some days two or three at a time."

"And they all wanted—money, I suppose," observed Mr. Smith, "for their sick wives and children, I suppose."