And I can do nothing." She had been busy at her machine when Joan had entered; and a pile of delicate white work lay folded on a chair beside her.
"What are you making ?" asked Joan.
The little withered face lighted up.

"Guess," she said, as she unfolded and displayed a tiny garment.
"I so love making them," she said.

"I say to myself, 'It will all come right.

God will send more and more of His Christ babies; till at last there will be thousands and thousands of them everywhere; and their love will change the world!'" Her bright eyes had caught sight of the ring upon Joan's hand.

She touched it with her little fragile fingers.
"You will let me make one for you, dearie, won't you ?" she said.