h contributions.
But she got on, somehow, without having friends; and, though the loss
of one had always been a real grief, she learned without much trouble
the way of living the lonely, comfortable, but very selfish life, and
the way of being the woman I have tried to describe. There were
occasional days when she was tired of herself, and life seemed an
empty, formal, heartless discipline. Her wisest acquaintances pitied
her loneliness; and busy, unselfish people wondered how she could be
deaf to the teachings of her good clergyman, and blind to all the
chances of usefulness and happiness which the world afforded her; and
others still envied her, and wondered to whom she meant to leave all
her money.

I began by telling you of the new street. It was suggested that it
should bear the name of Sydney; but the authorities decided finally to
compliment the country's chief magistrate, and call it Grant Place.
Miss Sydney, did not like the sound of it. Her family had always been
indifferent to politics, and indeed the kite of the Sydney had flown
for many years high above the winds that affect commonplace people.
The new way from Jefferson Street to St. Mary was a great convenience,
and it seemed to our friend that all the noisiest vehicles in the city
had a preference for going back and forth under her windows. You see
she did not suspect, what afterwards became so evident; that there was
to be a way opened into her own heart also, and that she should confess
one day, long after that she might have died a selfish old woman, and
not have left one sorry face behind her, if it had not been for the
cutting of Grant Place.

The side of her conservatory was now close upon the sidewalk, and this
certainly was not agreeable. She could not think of putting on her big
gardening-apron, and going in to work among her dear plants any more,
with all the world staring in at her as it went by. John the coachman,
who had charge of the greenhouse, was at first very indignant; but,
after she found that his flowers were noticed and admired, his anger
was turned into an ardent desire to merit admiration, and he kept his
finest plants next the street. It was a good thing for the greenhouse,
because it had never been so carefully tended; and plant after plant
was forced into luxuriant foliage and blossom. He and Miss Sydney had
planned at first to have close wire screens made to match those in the
dining-room; but now, when she spoke