she had not brought me here.
We were so dreadfully poor, and had so few friends. Oh Malcolm, think
of it," and then she whispered in his ear, "they would have taken me to
the workhouse--there was nothing else."

"Nonsense--rubbish," began Malcolm wrathfully; but Anna put her hand
upon his lips.

"No, dear, not nonsense. I am telling you the sober truth--mother would
endorse it. Do you think I do not owe her a life's service and love for
all her dear care of me!"

"If I am tired, I glory in my fatigue, for it is for my adopted mother
and her poor that I am working;" and Anna's eyes were very soft and
bright. "Malcolm, you have no idea how much happier she is now I share
her work. I know she never complained of her loneliness--it is not her
way to complain--but she has missed Florence so terribly. We talk of
her sometimes, mother and I," continued the girl thoughtfully, "and she
tells me what a sweet daughter she would have been, and how we should
have been sisters. It is so dear of her never to exclude me, even when
she is thinking and talking of Florence. 'If my little girl had lived,'
she said once, 'I should have had two daughters.'"

Malcolm had to hold his tongue at last, but he grumbled freely to Nurse
Dawson. In her he had a staunch ally; the old woman was devoted to
Anna, and by no means sided with her mistress.

"You see it is just this way, Mr. Malcolm, my dear," she said to him
once; "the mistress, bless her heart, thinks of nothing but them
charitable societies, from morning till night; they are more to her
than meat or drink or rest. She is as strong as a horse, and so she is
never tired like other folks. Why, my dear, I have known her spend a
whole day going from one meeting to another, speechifying and reading
reports, and yet when I have gone up to dress her in the evening she
has been as fresh as paint. She is made of cast-iron, that's my
belief," continued Dawson, who secretly adored her mistress; "but
cast-iron is one thing and a fragile blossom like Miss Anna is another,
as I made bold to tell my mistress the other day; 'for it stands to
reason, ma'am,' I said to her, 'that a young creature like Miss Anna is
not seasoned and toughened like a lady of your age, and I never did
think much of her constitution.'"

"And what did my mother say to that, Dawson?"

"Well, dearie, she had a deal to say, for I am free to confess that my
mistress is never at a loss for words. She argued with me for pretty