* * * * *
A peaceful Sabbath day's services had closed, and in the quiet of her beautiful and cosy little "den" Jessie Buchanan sat talking to a friend before the flickering embers in the fireplace. Three months had passed away since Thomas Fearnon's sermon on Luke xix. 10: three months of sometimes perplexing but always joyous service to Jessie Buchanan. Already several lives had been gladdened and helped by the radiating influence of her consecrated life.
The Buchanan home on the hillcrest had gladly opened its doors during these three months to some who had never expected to cross its threshold. And so to-night, for the third time, the young woman who had unknowingly caused the departure of two families from St. Andrew's Church, sat in the fire-light with her new-found friend.
Wisely and unostentatiously Jessie Buchanan had made her acquaintance, and their meetings had been invariably away from the public eye. But into the broken life was coming the conquering power of an unselfish love. To-night, as the flames diminished, the young woman unfolded a little of her life.
"Please don't hate me for it—I had to tell some one. Oh! if only some one like you had helped me when I first went to the city; but it was my own fault. Still, if you do wrong, there seem so many more to help you to keep on in the same way than there are to help you back."
For some minutes she talked on, and then Jessie Buchanan moved her chair a little closer and laid a hand sympathetically upon the girl's shoulder.
"You think my name is Flossie, don't you, Miss Buchanan?" the girl asked slowly. "Well, it isn't. Nobody here knows either of my right names, but I'm going to tell you: my right name is Nellie Gillard; and Miss Buchanan, I want to be good again, and maybe get back home soon—only, I am afraid, for I haven't even written for nearly a year." Tears were wiped away as the memory of the old home was revived in the light of new desires.
* * * * *
Another week was nearing its close, and Jessie Buchanan was as usual making her plans for a hospitable Sunday. Glancing down the driveway, she was surprised to see Nellie Gillard approaching the house. This was the first daylight visit Nellie had made, and Saturday morning was so unusual a time that Jessie Buchanan was at the door before the bell-handle could be pulled. A cordial greeting and Nellie was accompanied to the now familiar den. As the door closed the visitor at once made known the purpose of her visit. "Miss Buchanan, I'd like to go home, but I cannot—I dare not go alone."
"Oh! I'm so glad you have decided. How soon do you wish to go, dear?" Jessie Buchanan's voice and face revealed her joy and thankfulness.