Close to the window sat Min 's child , his small , beautiful face pressed against the panes , and the bright-eyed dog beside him . Telford was writing in his journal . `` I shall stay here -- close to her grave . I shall see it every time I look from my study window -- every time I stand in my pulpit -- every time I go in and out among my people . I begin to see wherein I have failed . I shall begin again patiently and humbly . I wrote today to decline the C -- church call . My heart and my work are here . '' He closed the book and bowed his head on it . Outside the snow fell softly ; he knew that it was wrapping that new-made grave on the cold , fir-sentinelled hillside with a stainless shroud of infinite purity and peace . Miss Cordelia 's Accommodation `` Poor little creatures ! '' said Miss Cordelia compassionately . She meant the factory children . In her car ride from the school where she taught to the bridge that spanned the river between Pottstown , the sooty little manufacturing village on one side , and Point Pleasant , which was merely a hamlet , on the other , she had seen dozens of them , playing and quarrelling on the streets or peering wistfully out of dingy tenement windows . `` Tomorrow is Saturday , '' she reflected , `` and they 've no better place to play in than the back streets and yards . It 's a shame . There 's work for our philanthropists here , but they do n't seem to see it . Well , I 'm so sorry for them it hurts me to look at them , but I ca n't do anything . '' Miss Cordelia sighed and then brightened up , because she realized that she was turning her back upon Pottstown for two blissful days and going to Point Pleasant , which had just one straggling , elm-shaded street hedging on old-fashioned gardens and cosy little houses and trailing off into the real country in a half-hour 's walk . Miss Cordelia lived alone in a tiny house at Point Pleasant .
It was so tiny XXXXX you would have wondered how anyone could live in it .
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