" said Mrs. Galloway to herself, "what the help is that
she needs most?"

The rare beauty of the face impressed her as it invariably impressed
strangers, but she looked beneath the surface and saw something more in
it than its beauty. She saw its sadness, its resolution.

When Joan rose from the table, the old lady was still standing with the
letter in her hand. She folded it and spoke to her.

"If you are sufficiently rested, I should like you to sit down and talk
to me a little. I want to speak to you about your plans."

"Then," said Joan, "happen I'd better tell yo' at th' start as I ha'
none."

Mrs. Galloway put her hand upon her shoulder.

"Then," she returned, "that is all the better for me, for I have in my
mind one of my own. You would like to find work to help you----"

"I _mun_ find work," Joan interrupted, "or starve."

"Of any kind?" questioningly.

"I ha' worked at th' pit's mouth aw my life," said Joan. "I need na be
dainty, yo' see."

Mrs. Galloway smoothed the back of the small, withered hand upon her
knee with the palm of the other.

"Then, perhaps," she said slowly, "you will not refuse to accept my
offer and stay here--with me?"

"Wi' yo'?" Joan exclaimed. "I am an old woman, you see," Mrs. Galloway
answered. "I have lived in Ashley-Wold all my life, and have, as it
were, accumulated duties, and now as the years go by, I do not find it
so easy to perform them as I used to. I need a companion who is young
and strong, and quick to understand the wants of those who suffer. Will
you stay here and help _me?_"

"Wi' yo'?" said Joan again. "Nay," she cried; "nay--that is not fur me.
I am na fit."

On her way to her chamber some hours later Mrs. Galloway stopped at the
room which had been Anice's, and looked in upon her guest. But Joan was
not asleep, as she had hoped to find her. She stood at the fireside,
looking into the blaze.

"Will you come here a minnit?" she said.

She looked haggard and wearied, but the eyes she raised to her hostess
were resolute.

"Theer's summat as I ha' held back fro' sayin' to yo'," she said, "an'
th' more I think on it, th' more I see as I mun tell yo' if I mean
to begin fair an' clear. I ha' a trouble as I'm fain to hide; it's
a trouble as I ha' fowt wi' an' ha' na helped mysen agen. It's na a
shame," straightening herself; "it's a trouble such as ony woman might
bear an' be honest. I coom away fro' Riggan to be out o' th' way on
it--not to forget it, fo