ezing during that interview.

"As soon as I am settled, as one has so much more time in the
country than in town, I may, after all, take up that course of
reading: would you object?

"It's a wise saying that every new experience brings some new
trouble: I longed for youth before I married; but to marry after
you are old--that, Anna, is sorrow indeed.

"Your devoted friend,

"HARRIET CRANE WEBB.

"P.S. Don't send any but the _plainest_ things; for I remember,
noble friend, how it pains you to see me _overdressed_."

IX

It was raining steadily and the night was cold. Miss Anna came
hurriedly down into the library soon after supper. She had on an
old waterproof; and in one hand she carried a man's cotton
umbrella--her own--and in the other a pair of rubbers. As she sat
down and drew these over her coarse walking shoes, she talked in
the cheery tone of one who has on hand some congenial business.

"I may get back late and I may not get back at all; it depends upon
how the child is. But I wish it would not rain when poor little
children are sick at night--it is the one thing that gives me the
blues. And I wish infants could speak out and tell their symptoms.
When I see grown people getting well as soon as they can minutely
narrate to you all their ailments, my heart goes out to babies.
Think how they would crow and gurgle, if they could only say what
it is all about. But I don't see why people at large should not be
licensed to bring in a bill when their friends insist upon
describing their maladies to them: doctors do. But I must be
going. Good night."

She rose and stamped her feet into the rubbers to make them fit
securely; and then she came across to the lamp-lit table beside
which he sat watching her fondly--his book dropped the while upon
his lap. He grasped her large strong hand in his large strong
hand; and she leaned her side against his shoulder and put her arm
around his neck.

"You are getting younger, Anna," he said, looking up into her face
and drawing her closer.

"Why not?" she answered with a voice of splendid joy. "Harriet is
married; what troubles have I, then? And she patronizes--or
matronizes--me and tyrannizes over Ambrose: so the world is really
succeeding at last. But I wish her husband had not asked me
_first_; that is her thorn."

"And the thorn will grow!"

"Now, don't sit up late!" she pleaded. "I turned your bed down and
arranged the pillows wrong end