ld home and her new
friends, found her eagerly examining her cousin's small apartment in
Georgetown. The house was a red-brick mansion built for the residence of
an early Secretary of the Navy, and now made over into cheap flats. The
stately, old-fashioned place was surrounded by small shops and cheap,
dingy houses. "It makes me think," Miss Dorcas said with a sigh, "how
Jefferson would look to-day in a Democratic party meeting or Hamilton
among modern Republican politicians."

Anne didn't know who Hamilton was but she thought Jefferson, whose
picture hung in the sitting-room, looked as if he might have lived here.
It was a place still full of charm. In the rear of the mansion was an
old-fashioned flower garden with box-bordered gravel walks dividing the
formal beds and leading here to a stone seat, there to a broken
fountain. In the centre of the garden, was a sun-dial which a century
before told the shining hours; now, its days went in shadow under the
crowding trees,--a coffee-tree from Arabia, a mulberry from Spain, and
other relics of the wanderings of the long-ago secretary. Anne felt
like a bird in a nest as she sat on the roomy, white-columned porch
overlooking the garden, catching glimpses through a leafy screen of the
broad Potomac and the wooded hills of Virginia.

"Ah! when the leaves fall it is beautiful, beautiful," said her cousin;
but Anne was sure that it could never be more beautiful than now, in the
green-gold glory of a late summer afternoon.

After a few idle days, Anne was enrolled in the city free school. Miss
Dorcas mourned over the fact that she was unable to send her small
cousin to a select private school, and urged her to study hard, behave
well, and, above all, never to have anything to do with 'the common
herd' of other children. Anne obeyed the last command very unwillingly.
It would be dreadful to be "contaminated,"--which she supposed to mean
infected with a bad kind of measles,--as Cousin Dorcas said she would be
if she played with her grade-mates; but it was hard to sit primly alone
instead of joining the recess games.

At first some of the children tried to make friends with her but, being
met coolly, they left her to lonely dignity.

"It's goot," wonderingly explained Albert Naumann, a sturdy, blond
little German, when she refused a bite of the crimson-cheeked winesap
apple that he offered.

"Why not?" asked merry-faced Peggy Callahan, when Anne declined her dare
to a foot-rac