Once these faces were soft and full; these eyes snapped with health and joy. Love showered its kisses. The world showed wondrously beautiful in the tender light of romance and the voice of hope rang clear and strong. Came babies for these hands to fondle and caress, and tiny forms to be upheld as little feet struggled in first steps upon the rough and hilly path. Noble deeds of unselfishness gleamed in the shadowed lives of these women as they battled with the adversities which all who live must face. Slowly their beauty faded; their eyes no longer sparkled; their hands were red and hard. Little ones grew into men and women and went away, filled with hope and proud in their strength, leaving loneliness behind. Through the years, a shadow, almost indiscernible to youthful eyes, drew ever closer. One by one, they had seen friends and loved ones pass behind the black veil, until they were alone in a world, cold, loveless, without hope, waiting---- Waiting. Yes, waiting--slowly rocking and fanning--living anew the past, and peering out into the sunshine as if they sought with their poor eyes to glimpse the approach of that enfolding shadow of mystery. The visitors paused for a moment at the entrance, sobered by the tragedy of age. Near them, an old woman became suddenly active. The sweep of her chair increased as she glanced at Virginia. She stopped and whispered to her neighbor. This aged one started, as if awakened from slumber, and she, too, inspected the girl. Then, she placed her lips by the ear of her deaf companion and in a shrill voice of great carrying power, cried, "Powder makes her look pale. They all use it nowadays." She stopped for breath and screamed, "Her dress is too short. Her mother ought to have better sense than to let her run around that way." Luckily for the embarrassed girl, at this moment Mrs. Henderson led her into the reception room and left her to regain her composure while she transacted her business with the matron in an adjoining room. The remarkable quiet which reigned in this home of age oppressed Virginia, so that when Mrs. Henderson returned with the matron, she cried, impulsively, "Oh, Hennie, I am glad that you are back. This place is so still that it is lonesome." Mrs. Henderson turned to Mrs. Smith, the matron. "That is what I have always said," she argued. "The old ladies like it quiet, but we overdo it here. The place is a grave. We should have more entertainment." She looked questioningly at the girl. "What do you think should be done, child?" Virginia's blue eyes were very serious as she answered, "I hardly know--almost anything which would make it happier. It needs something to stir it up," she ended impulsively. The older woman laughed and Mrs. Henderson put her arm about the girl's waist, and suggested, "You have nothing on your hands, child. Why can't you arrange some sort of an entertainment for these elderly women?" "Oh, I couldn't," she demurred shyly.