I was close by the Elder Brother (that's the name we give to the chief of the Community) when two of the women led Miss Mellicent in.

He's a hearty old fellow, who lived the first part of his life on his own clearing in one of the Western forests.

To this day, he can't talk long, without showing, in one way or another, that his old familiarity with the trees still keeps its place in his memory.

He looked hard at Miss Mellicent, under his shaggy old white eyebrows; and I heard him whisper to himself, 'Ah, dear me! Another of The Fallen Leaves!' I knew what he meant.

The people who have drawn blanks in the lottery of life--the people who have toiled hard after happiness, and have gathered nothing but disappointment and sorrow; the friendless and the lonely, the wounded and the lost--these are the people whom our good Elder Brother calls The Fallen Leaves.
I like the saying myself; it's a tender way of speaking of our poor fellow-creatures who are down in the world." He paused for a moment, looking out thoughtfully over the vast void of sea and sky.