ul insertion of a large foot encased in a
cashmere boot, and Claire stood staring at her, wondering if it were
really her own voice which had spoken those last words, and from what
source had sprung the confidence which had suddenly flooded her heart.
At this last blow of all, when even the little saffron-coloured parlour
closed the door against her, the logical course would have been to
collapse into utter despair, instead of which the moment had brought the
first gleam of hope.

"Now," said the voice in her heart, "everyone has failed me. I am
helpless, I am alone. This is God's moment. I will worry no more, but
leave it to Him. Something will open for me when the time arrives!"

She went upstairs, put on her hat, and sallied out into the busy
streets. All the world was abroad, men and women and small eager
children all bent on the same task, thronging the shops to the doors,
waiting in rows for the favour of being served, emerging triumphant with
arms laden with spoils. On every side fragments of the same
conversation floated to the ears. "What can I get for Kate?"

"I can't think what in the world to buy for John."

"Do try to give me an idea what Rose would like!..."

Claire mingled with the throng, pushed her way towards the crowded
counters, waited a preposterous time for her change, and then hurried
off to another department to go through the same struggle once more.
Deliberately she threw herself into the Christmas feeling, turning her
thoughts from herself, considering only how she could add to the general
happiness. She bought presents for everybody, for the cross landlady,
for the untidy servant girl, for Sophie Blake, and Flora Ross, for the
maid at Saint Cuthbert's who waited upon the Staff-Room, with a
selection of dainty oddments for girl friends at Brussels, and when the
presents themselves had been secured she bought prettily tinted paper,
and fancy ribbons, and decorated name cards for the adornment of the
parcels.

The saffron parlour looked quite Christmas-like that evening, and Claire
knew a happy hour as she made up her gifts in their dainty wrappings.
They looked so gay and seasonable that she decided to defer putting them
into the sober outer covering of brown paper as long as possible. They
were all the Christmas decoration she would have!

On Sunday morning the feeling of loneliness took an acute turn. Claire
longed for a church which long association had made into a home; for