ribbons of her pretty cap, "what a
pity that your good little adopted sister is not with us."

"Mother Bunch?--yes, you are right, mademoiselle; but that is only a
pleasure put off, and the visit she paid us yesterday will not be the
last."

Having embraced her mother, the girl took Agricola's arm, and they went
out together.

"Dear me, M. Agricola," said Angela; "if you knew how much I was
surprised on entering this fine house, after being accustomed to see so
much misery amongst the poor workmen in our country, and in which I too
have had my share, whilst here everybody seems happy and contented. It
is really like fairy-land; I think I am in a dream, and when I ask my
mother the explanation of these wonders, she tells me, 'M. Agricola will
explain it all to you.'"

"Do you know why I am so happy to undertake that delightful task,
mademoiselle?" said Agricola, with an accent at once grave and tender.
"Nothing could be more in season."

"Why so, M. Agricola?"

"Because, to show you this house, to make you acquainted with all the
resources of our association, is to be able to say to you: 'Here, the
workman, sure of the present, sure of the future, is not, like so many
of his poor brothers, obliged to renounce the sweetest want of the
heart--the desire of choosing a companion for life--in the fear of
uniting misery to misery."'

Angela cast down her eyes, and blushed.

"Here the workman may safely yield to the hope of knowing the sweet joys
of a family, sure of not having his heart torn hereafter by the sight
of the horrible privations of those who are dear to him; here, thanks to
order and industry, and the wise employment of the strength of all, men,
women, and children live happy and contented. In a ward, to explain all
this to you, mademoiselle," added Agricola, smiling with a still more
tender air, "is to prove, that here we can do nothing more reasonable
than love, nothing wiser than marry."

"M. Agricola," answered Angela, in a slightly agitated voice, and
blushing still more as she spoke, "suppose we were to begin our walk."

"Directly, mademoiselle," replied the smith, pleased at the trouble
he had excited in that ingenuous soul. "But, come; we are near the
dormitory of the little girls. The chirping birds have long left their
nests. Let us go there."

"Willingly, M. Agricola."

The young smith and Angela soon entered a spacious dormitory, resembling
that of a first-rate boarding school. The littl