left her. I then took the candle and looked into the
drawer, and found a book lying in a corner with one side of the cover
off. It was very dirty and stained. I took it out, and went again to
my chair, and opened it. It was Bunyan's "Pilgrim's Progress," and full
of plates. I had never heard of the book, and did not know what the
title meant. I first looked at all the plates, and then I turned to the
opening of the book. On the blank leaf at the commencement, in very
neat and lawyer-like handwriting, was "Anna James, on her marriage, from
her dear friend Mary Farquhar, Tynemouth, June the 19th, 1738." By this
I discovered, as I thought, the married but not the maiden name of old
Nanny; and very probably, also, that Tynemouth was her native place.
She was married, too, in 1738, that was more than sixty years back--and
her age was, therefore, in all likelihood, nearly eighty years. I
pondered over this for some time, and then I commenced reading; and so
interested was I with the contents, that I did not raise my head until
the candle had burnt to the socket: as I was about to light another, I
perceived daylight through the chinks of the window shutter. So I laid
down the book, and walking softly out of the room, unlocked the shop
door to get a little fresh air; for the room that old Nanny was sleeping
in was, from dirt and neglect, very close. I could not, however, unlock
the door without waking up Nanny who screamed out "Thieves!--murder!
thieves!" until she was wide awake.

"Oh! it is you, Jack?" said she at last. "I dreamt there were thieves
breaking in."

"Nothing but day breaking in, mother," said I. "How do you feel this
morning?"

"Better, Jack, better; I've not so much pain, but I'm very thirsty; give
me some water."

"No, mother; the doctor said you must not drink cold water. If you'll
wait a little, I'll run and fetch you something warm. I won't be gone
long, so try to go to sleep again."

Old Nanny made no reply, but turned her face away from the light, as if
in obedience to my orders. I locked the outer door and hastened home.

I found my mother and Virginia sitting in the nice clean room, the fire
blazing cheerfully and the breakfast on the table, and I could not help
making the contrast in my own mind between it and the dirty abode I had
just left. I ran into the back kitchen to wash my face and hands, and
then returned, kissed Virginia, and wished my mother "good morning."
Why, I do