nd I'll soon nurse you up. I'll put on the kettle and get you a
good cup of tea first thing. And you're not to do any more talking
till the morning. But, oh, Missy, I can't take you to your own room
after all. Camilla Clark has it, and she'll be asleep by now; we
mustn't disturb her, for she's been real sick. I'll fix up a bed for
you on the sofa, though. Missy, Missy, let us kneel down here and
thank God for His mercy!"

Late that night, when Missy had fallen asleep in her improvised bed,
the wakeful mother crept in to gloat over her.

"Just to think," she whispered, "if I hadn't taken Camilla Clark in,
Missy wouldn't have heard me telling about the room, and she'd have
gone away again and never have known. Oh, I don't deserve such a
blessing when I was so unwilling to take Camilla! But I know one
thing: this is going to be Camilla's home. There'll be no leaving it
even when she does get well. She shall be my daughter, and I'll love
her next to Missy."

Ted's Afternoon Off

Ted was up at five that morning, as usual. He always had to rise early
to kindle the fire and go for the cows, but on this particular morning
there was no "had to" about it. He had awakened at four o'clock and
had sprung eagerly to the little garret window facing the east, to see
what sort of a day was being born. Thrilling with excitement, he saw
that it was going to be a glorious day. The sky was all rosy and
golden and clear beyond the sharp-pointed, dark firs on Lee's Hill.
Out to the north the sea was shimmering and sparkling gaily, with
little foam crests here and there ruffled up by the cool morning
breeze. Oh, it would be a splendid day!

And he, Ted Melvin, was to have a half holiday for the first time
since he had come to live in Brookdale four years ago--a whole
afternoon off to go to the Sunday School picnic at the beach beyond
the big hotel. It almost seemed too good to be true!

The Jacksons, with whom he had lived ever since his mother had died,
did not think holidays were necessities for boys. Hard work and
cast-off clothes, and three grudgingly allowed months of school in the
winter, made up Ted's life year in and year out--his outer life at
least. He had an inner life of dreams, but nobody knew or suspected
anything about that. To everybody in Brookdale he was simply Ted
Melvin, a shy, odd-looking little fellow with big dreamy black eyes
and a head of thick tangled curls which could never be made to look
tidy and al