hen a light seemed to
break over her.

"It's Miss Cynthia's daughter you are!" she cried. "My Miss Cynthia as
went and married in America!"

She caught Robinette's white ringed hands in hers, and Robinette bent
down and kissed the wrinkled old face.

"I know that mother loved you, Nurse," she said. "She used often,
often to tell me about you."

After the fashion of old people, Mrs. Prettyman was too much moved to
speak. Her face worked all over, and then slow tears began to run down
her furrowed cheeks. She got up from her chair and walked across the
uneven floor, leaning on a stick.

"I've something here, Miss, I've something here; something I never
parts with," she said. A tall chest of drawers stood against the wall,
and the old woman began to search among its contents as she spoke. At
last she found a little kid shoe, laid away in a handkerchief.

"See here, Miss! here's my Miss Cynthia's shoe! 'T was tied on to my
wedding coach the day I got married and left her. My 'usband 'e
laughed at me cruel because I'd have that shoe with me; but I've kept
it ever since."

Robinette came and stood beside her, and they both wept together over
the silly little shoe.

"I want to talk a great deal to you, Nurse; I want to tell you all
about mother and father, and how they died," said Robinette through
her tears. How strange that she should have to come to this cottage
and to this poor old woman before she found anyone to whom she could
speak of her beloved dead! Her heart was so full that she could
scarcely speak. A crowd of memories rushed into her mind; last scenes
and parting words; those innumerable unforgettable details that are
printed once for all upon the heart that loves and feels.

"I'd like to tell you about it out of doors, Nurse dear," she said
tearfully; "can you come out under the plum tree in your garden? It's
lovely there."

"Yes, dearie, yes, we'll come out under the plum tree, we will,"
echoed Mrs. Prettyman.

"See, Nursie, take my arm, I'll help you out into the warm sunshine,"
Robinette said.

They progressed very slowly, the old woman leaning with all her weight
upon the arm of her strong young helper. Then under the flickering
shade of the tree they sat down together for their talk.

So much to tell, so much to hear, the afternoon slipped away unknown
to them, and still they were sitting there hand in hand talking and
listening; sometimes crying a little, sometimes laughing; a queerly
ass