Fanny to get her few packages ready, and to be at the end of the green lane just as the coach was sweeping down the hill in the distance. Such a long journey, and by herself too, was an awful thing to any girl, especially to one who had lived in such complete seclusion and fear, mixed with the sorrow that made Fanny's voice at parting quite inarticulate. Neither Mrs. Beaumont nor Edith could restrain their tears, and even the farmer's wife who accompanied them cried for sympathy. Slowly they returned home, to miss Fanny at every turn.
The room did not seem the same, her place was vacant. The next morning Edith was up with the lark, and stole from her bed as softly as the bird from its nest, so fearful was she of disturbing her mother, and of not having every thing nicely prepared.
"Lord love the poor little thing," said their new hostess as she watched her bring in the flowers and water-cresses with which she laid out the breakfast table, and then make the coffee
