50
WHAT
ANNE
AIM
very glad to see her He was a good, old man, and after Anne had sat a little while with him, proposed to her that she should read him a chapter out of the Bible. “My woman," said he, with a look at his wife, who sat by him, “ain’t near so good at reading as she is at nursing."
So Anne did, and while she was reading, in came a coarsely dressed, rough-looking man, whose face was all seamed with the small-pox. “He’s one of the neighbors—don't mind him—
“Mother,” said Anne, when she got home,
i “you don’t know what a pleasant time I’ve had.
g I declare I never thought of the blues once," she
went on, untying her bonnet, and talking in the
3 most animated manner atthe same time. “Every—
E body was so glad to see me; and oh! I must tell
Eabout a Mrs. Hoyt I came across.”
And she
2 related to her mother her "adventure," as she
called it.
, The impulse that had been wakened in Anne's i heart to do good, did not die away when its
he won’t have no objections,” said Mr. Malone, gnovelty was gone.
Some of her schemes for
afraid she was going to stop. So she went on usefulness failed, and some succeeded; but they reading, and the rough-looking man listened at- = all had a softening, beneficial efl'ect on her char—
tentively, even eagerly, to every word, and stared E acter, whether she knew it or not, and made her out of the window after her as long as she was more unselfish. But there was one place where in sight, when she went away, promising Mr. i her efforts succeeded, and were appreciated fully,
Malone that she would come again soon, and§as the following extract from a letter of her read to him.
tmother’s to “cousin Mary" will show:
With a softened, loving feeling to everybody; in her heart, Anne went with the book her mother had sent to Mary Brackett. The pretty, tasteful room, with its bright fire, and pictures, and canary birds at the ‘window, looked charm-
“As for Anne, I really believe the dear child
i grows more lovable every day. She does a great ideal to relieve me of care, and devotes nearly 3 every evening to her father—who cannot read by 5 gaslight now—reading to him, or playing and
ing, almost fairy-like, after the one she had just i singing.
She is the very light of the house.
I
left. E don‘t know what we should do without her." Little, merry Miss Brackett, with her funny, One warm day, several months after the con old-fashionedyays, welcomed her cordially, and ‘t‘ versation with which our story began, a little
scolded playfully, because she had not been 5 Irish girl came for Anne to go and see “Mr. there before. 3 Brett.” “ We sour old maids are pleased, after all, when " Mr. Brett?" said Anne, reflectively, “I never
the young girls come to see us," said she.
heard the name before.
There must be some
“You are not an old maid, Miss Brackett,” mistake about it." said Anne, making herself comfortable in one of “Oh! no, marm; he’s a sick man what lives in Mary’s little rocking-chairs, “because you don’t i our house; he's going off in a consumption, an’ keep a cat; old maids always do.’" he's been talking ever so long if he only could
“Bless you, child, it’s only because I can't get l have Miss Daland read to him, an' nobody one to suit me. I’m set on a Maltese with white 3 know who you was, till yesterday, Mrs. Hoyt paws, just as I am set on not marrying till I find 3 was in, and she tells mother where you live. An' somebody like Dr. Kanel"
é Mr. Brett, thin he was in a fever till I came for
“Oh! isn’t that book of his splendid?" Anne i you." exclaimed, kindling with enthusiasm. é Anne wasn’t much enlightened by the state So they talked about Dr. Kane, discussed all ‘ ment, and inquired where he lived.
It was in
the news, and had such a chatty, sociable time, i “Dyer’s court," one of the worst and dirtiest that before Anne knew it, it was getting late, and g places in the city.
She hesitated a moment
she must go. yabout the propriety of going there, besides, it. “You’re a pleasant little lady, Miss Anne was so warm; but her better impulses prevailed, Daland," said Miss Brackett to her, as she stood ‘ and she went with the little girl. at the door, about to go, “and I hope you’ll It was a tall, black house, that seemed to be come again.” § swarming with occupants, at the end of a narrow, “Little?” said that young lady, drawing her- l dark lane. The battered door was half 08' its self up indignantly, being more than a head i hinges, and the steep steps were so wet and dirty
taller than Mary Brackett. gthat Anne’s forehead wrinkled with disgust as “Well, don't look like a wrathful Juno about S she trod on them. Up one pair of dark stairs it, my dear: that style don’t suit you. I am E after another till she reached the garret, where much obliged to your mother for the book. Au g the child left her. Such a little cooped up, revoir," she prided herself in her French. t wretched place! And at one end of it, on a low
