“Why, Madge!” she said.  “There was nothing else to do.  Marion’s grandmother is devoted to her.  To separate them now would kill the old woman.  Besides her income is so limited that she cannot have the proper care unless I do take her in.”

“I thought you said Mr. Morten had a legacy about the time of his second marriage.”

“He did, but most of it has been dissipated, I imagine, and what there is left is in the possession of his wife, a woman with no more red blood than a codfish.  She would let his mother starve before she would exert herself to help her, or part with any money.  No, there is nothing else to do, Madge.  I’ll just have to work a little harder, that’s all, and that’s good for me, best reducing system there is, you know.”

The sheer, indomitable courage of her, taking up burdens in her middle age which should never be hers, and assuming them with a smile and jest upon her lips!  I felt suddenly ashamed of the weakness with which I had met my own problems.

“Lillian!” I said abruptly, “you make me ashamed of myself.  I’m going to stop grieving—­as much as I can—­” I qualified, “and get to work.  Tell me, how can I best help you?  I’m going back to my club work next week—­I am sure I shall be strong enough by then, but I shall have such loads of time outside.”

My friend came over to me impetuously, and kissed me warmly.

“You blessed child!” she said.  “I am so glad if anything has roused you.  And I’m going to accept your words in the spirit in which I am sure they were uttered.  If you can share Marion with me for awhile, it will help me more than anything else.  I have so many orders piled up, I don’t know where to begin first.  Her grandmother is too ill to attend to her, and I don’t want to leave her with any hired attendant, she has had too many of those already.”

“Don’t say another word,” I interrupted.  “There’s nothing on earth I’d rather do just now than take care of Marion.”

Thus began a long succession of peaceful days, spent with Lillian’s small daughter.  She was a bewitching little creature of nine years, but so tiny that she appeared more like a child of six.  I had taught many children, but never had been associated with a child at home.  I grew sincerely attached to the little creature, and she, in turn, appeared very fond of me.  Lillian told her to call me “Aunt Madge,” and the sound of the title was grateful to me.

“Auntie Madge, Auntie Madge,” the sweet childish voice rang the changes on the name so often that I grew to associate my name with the love I felt for the child.  This made it all the harder for me to bear when the child’s hand all unwittingly brought me the hardest blow Fate had yet dealt me.

It was her chief delight to answer the postman’s ring, and bring me the mail each day.  On this particular afternoon I had been especially busy, and thus less miserable than usual.  I heard the postman’s ring, and then the voice of Marion.