too much_ knowledge--is it not?"

"Do you think one can?" she asked.

"Perhaps not too much well-regulated knowledge; knowledge adapted to an
efficient end and purpose."

Again Annie turned her dark blue, expressive eye full upon his face.

"I mean to put my little store of learning to good use," she said,
thoughtfully.

"Well, so I supposed, Annie. What do you intend to do?"

"Something great and good," she answered, her eye kindling with the
lofty thought within.

"And could you accomplish but one, which should it be?"

"Will not a great thing be a good one also?" she inquired.

He shook his head.

"That does not necessarily follow," he said; "that which is great may
not be good, but remember, Annie, what is _good_ will surely be
_great_."

"I shall consider your words, dear sir," said Annie. "I am much indebted
to you for the privileges your kindness has afforded me, and hope some
day to be able to make a grateful recompense."

"What I do is done freely, my child, and from a sense of duty. Do not
speak of recompense. Has not the companionship you have afforded my
little Netta, to say nothing of myself and sister Rachel, amply repaid
the small trouble your instruction has caused?"

"But you forget in all this I am as much or more the recipient as the
giver. If Netta has found me a tolerable companion, I have found her a
charming one; and all yours and aunt Rachel's teachings--ah! I fear I'm
much the debtor after all," she said, shaking her head, doubtfully, and
smiling in her listener's face with artless simplicity and gratitude.

"No, no, not a debtor, Annie," he said, stroking her bright curls; "I
cannot admit that. Let the benefits be mutual, if you will, nothing
more. I see Netta in the garden gathering flowers. She is a good little
girl, and loves you dearly, though she has none of the brilliancies that
characterize your mind. I do not intend to flatter; go now and join your
friend. I expect a party of western people to visit me to-morrow, and
have some preparations to make for their reception."

Annie bowed, and glided down the gravelled path of the garden. In a
shady bower she found Netta, arranging a bouquet of laurel leaves and
snow-white jessamines.

"O!" she exclaimed, looking up as Annie approached; "there you are, sis.
Now I'll twine you a wreath of these fragrant flowers."

"And I'll twine one for you, Netta," said Annie. "Of what shall it be?"

"Simple primroses or violets; these w