always have been grown up. You would have
amazed Anne if you had told her that Miss Farlow was still young and,
with her fresh color, good features, and soft, abundant hair, really
ought to be pretty. But there were anxious lines around the eyes and
mouth, and the hair was always drawn straight back so as to show at its
worst the high, knobby forehead. Poor, patient, earnest, hard-working
Miss Farlow! She was brought face to face with much of the world's need
and longed to remove it all and was able to relieve so little. She had
at her disposal funds to support twenty homeless girls. Because she
could not bear to turn away one needing help, she was always saving and
scrimping so as to take care of more. One cannot wonder that she found
life serious and solemn. Yet if only she had known how to laugh and
forget her work sometimes, she might have done more good as well as been
happier herself.

From the first, Anne was a puzzle to the sober-minded lady. A few days
after Anne entered the home, she was sent into the office to be
reproved. Slim and erect in her short blue frock, she stood before the
superintendent. Miss Farlow looked at the slip of paper from the pupil
teacher: "Anne Lewis; disorderly; laughed aloud in the Sunday study
class."

"Why did you laugh during the Bible lesson, Anne Lewis?" asked Miss
Farlow. She always called each girl by her full name. "You knew that it
was naughty, did you not?"

"I did not mean to be naughty," said Anne, penitently. "I just laughed
at myself."

"Laughed at yourself?" Miss Farlow was puzzled.

"I was thinking," Anne explained. "My eyes were half-shut and--it was
the way the light was shining--I could see us all from our chins down in
the shiny desk. Then I thought, suppose all the mirrors in the world
were broken so we could never see our faces! We'd never know whether we
were ourselves or one of the other girls--we're so exactly alike, you
know. And I thought how funny it would be not to know whether you were
yourself or some one else, and maybe comb some one else's hair when you
meant to get the tangles out of your own--and I laughed out loud."

Miss Farlow did not smile. "What a queer, foolish thing that was for you
to think!" she said. "I will not punish you this time, since you did not
mean to be naughty. But if you do such a thing again, I must take away
your Saturday afternoon holiday."

That would be a severe punishment, for the girls dearly loved the
freedom of