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Miss Maggie, still with the disturbed frown between her eyebrows, summoned Mr. Smith. Then together they sat down to hear Miss Flora's story.

"It all started, of course, from—from that day I brought the letter here—from that man in Boston with seven children, you know."

"Yes, I remember," encouraged Miss Maggie.

"Well, I—I did quite a lot of things after that. I was so glad and happy to discover I could do things for folks. It seemed to—to take away the wickedness of my having so much, you know; and so I gave food and money, oh, lots of places here in town—everywhere, 'most, that I could find that anybody needed it."

"Yes, I know. We heard of the many kind things you did, dear." Miss

Maggie had the air of one trying to soothe a grieved child.

"But they didn't turn out to be kind—all of 'em," quavered Miss Flora.

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"Some of 'em went wrong. I don't know why. I TRIED to do 'em all right!"

"Of course you did!"

"I know; but 'tain't those I came to talk about. It's the others—the letters."

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"Yes. I got 'em—lots of 'em—after the first one—the one you saw. First I got one, then another and another, till lately I've been getting 'em every day, 'most, and some days two or three at a time."

"And they all wanted—money, I suppose," observed Mr. Smith, "for their sick wives and children, I suppose."

"Oh, not for children always—though it was them a good deal. But it was for different things—and such a lot of them! I never knew there could be so many kinds of such things. And I was real pleased, at first,—that I could help, you know, in so many places."

"Then you always sent it—the money?" asked Mr. Smith.

"Oh, yes. Why, I just had to, the way they wrote; I wanted to, too. They wrote lovely letters, and real interesting ones, too. One man wanted a warm coat for his little girl, and he told me all about what hard times they'd had. Another wanted a brace for his poor little crippled boy, and HE told me things. Why, I never s'posed folks could have such awful things, and live! One woman just wanted to borrow twenty dollars while she was so sick. She didn't ask me to give it to her. She wasn't a beggar. Don't you suppose I'd send her that money? Of course I would! And there was a poor blind man—he wanted money to buy a Bible in raised letters; and of COURSE I wouldn't refuse that! Some didn't beg; they just wanted to sell things. I bought a diamond ring to help put a boy through school, and a ruby pin of a man who needed the money for bread for his children. And there was—oh, there was lots of 'em—too many to tell."

"And all from Boston, I presume," murmured Mr. Smith.