"You must go to bed," said Mrs. Wrandall quietly. "Don't be afraid.
No one will think of coming here."

The girl arose. As she stood before her benefactress, she heard
her murmur as if from afar-off: "Just about your size and figure,"
and wondered not a little.

"You may sleep late. I have many things to do and you will not be
disturbed. Come, take off your clothes and get into my bed. To-morrow
we will plan further--"

"But, madam," cried the girl, "I cannot take your bed. Where are
you to--"

"If I feel like lying down, I shall lie there beside you."

The girl stared. "Lie beside ME?"

"Yes. Oh, I am not afraid of you, child. You are not a monster.
You are just a poor, tired--"

"Oh, please don't! Please!" cried the other, tears rushing to her
eyes. She raised Mrs. Wrandall's hand to her lips and covered it
with kisses.

Long after she went to sleep, Sara Wrandall stood beside the bed,
looking down at the pain-stricken face, and tried to solve the
problem that suddenly had become a part of her very existence.