be where you are, havin' beans on Monday and cabbage on Tuesday and
soup on Wednesday and--"

The wrangling went on amongst these old derelicts sitting on the
sunny side of the Doane home for old ladies. Their lives were filled
with little jealousies and quarrels over petty details. They lived in
the past and exalted it until they themselves had grown to believe
that they had always trodden flowery pathways, until by some
unfortunate chance, for which they were not to be blamed, these paths
had led them, when old age and helplessness came upon them, into this
home for the poor and lonely.

* * * * *

Drusilla slowly made her way to the parlor, which she entered with
the wondering, surprised look still on her face--surprised that any
one should ask for her, and wondering who it could be.

Two gentlemen rose as she entered, and Mrs. Smith, the Director of
the home, said:

"This is Drusilla Doane. Drusilla, this is Mr. Thornton and Mr.
Gale, who wish to speak with you."

They bowed over Miss Drusilla's hand, which was falteringly extended.

"We are very glad to meet you, Miss Doane. Won't you please sit
down, as our business will take quite a little time to transact."
Turning to Mrs. Smith: "May we speak with her alone?"