at the Widow Deane's, Polly sleeping in the room below.
This arrangement had come about as the result of an eleventh-hour hitch in the program that was to have placed Miss Comfort in the poor-farm, down the river about two miles. It turned out that gaining admission to that institution was not such a simple matter as one might suppose. There was a great deal of red tape to be untied, and the untying of it occupied the energies of several of Orstead's influential citizens. There was no doubt that eventually Miss Comfort would reach that haven, but meanwhile there ensued a delay that might last a week—a fortnight—even longer. Bob Starling's father, instigated by his sister, who, since the death of Bob's mother, had kept house for them, offered very generous assistance of money. Other individuals had sought to aid, as, too, had the congregation of the little church that Miss Comfort attended. But all such offers had been gratefully and firmly declined. Hospitality the little old lady would have accepted, but charity in the form of money was, to her mind, something quite different and most repugnant. So, until the last knot in the mass
