ened in concealment,
with capacious sun-bonnets that shut out from observation all objects
but those immediately before us, it was no wonder that a stranger could
come directly up without being noticed. Thus intently occupied one
afternoon, we were surprised at hearing a subdued and timid voice
asking,--

"May I sell some strawberries for you?"

I looked round,--for the voice came from behind us,--and beheld a girl
of some ten years old, having in her hand a basket, which she had
probably found on the common, as, in place of the original bottom, a
pasteboard substitute had been fitted into it. It was filled with little
pasteboard boxes, stitched at the corners, but strong enough to hold
fruit. I noticed, that, old as it was, it had been scoured up into
absolute cleanness. The child's attire was in keeping with her basket.
Though she had no shoes, and the merest apology for a bonnet, with a
dress that was worn and faded, as well as frayed out into a ragged
fringe about her feet, yet it was all scrupulously clean. Her features
struck me as even beautiful, and her soft hazel eyes would command
sympathy from all who might look into them. Her manner and appearance
prepossessed me in her favor.

"But did you ever sell strawberries?" I inquired.

"No, Ma'am, but I can try," she answered.

"But it will never do to trust her," interrupted my mother. "We do not
know who she is, and may never see her again."

"Oh, Ma'am, I will bring the money back to you. Dear lady, let me have
some to sell," she entreated, with childish earnestness, her voice
trembling and her eyes moistening with apprehension of refusal.

"Mother," said I, "this child is a beginner. Is it right for us to
refuse so trifling an encouragement? Who knows to what useful ends it
may lead? You remember how difficult it was for me to procure the
plants, and how keenly you felt my trouble. Will you inflict a keener
one on this child, whose heart seems bent on doing something for
herself, and on whom disappointment will fall even more painfully than
it did on me? Are we not all bound to do something for those who are
more destitute than ourselves? and even if we lose what we let her have,
it will never be missed."

The poor girl looked up imploringly into my face as I pleaded for her,
her eyes brightened with returning hopefulness, and again she besought
us,--

"Dear lady, let me have a few; my mother knows you."

"Tell me your name," I replied.

"Lucy Var