an old woman, remain as
strong as ever.

"While I recognize no legal claim upon me (I having long since attended
to the future disposal of all my property according to my own wishes), I
am willing to help you to a certain extent, as I would help any
industrious young girl asking for assistance. If what you say of your
education is true, you need only what are called modern accomplishments
(of which I personally have small opinion, a grimacing in French and a
squalling in Italian being not to my taste) to make you a fairly well
qualified teacher in an average country boarding-school, which is all
you can expect. You may, therefore, come to New York at my expense, and
enter Madame Moreau's establishment, where, as I understand, the extreme
of everything called 'accomplishment' is taught, and much nonsense
learned in the latest style. You may remain one year; not longer. And I
advise you to improve the time, as nothing more will be done for you by
me. You will bring your own clothes, but I will pay for your books. I
send no money now, but will refund your travelling expenses (of which
you will keep strict account, without extras) upon your arrival in the
city, which must not be later than the last of October. Go directly to
Madame Moreau's (the address is inclosed), and remember that you are
simply Anne Douglas, and not a relative of your obedient servant,

KATHARINE VANHORN."

* * * * *

Anne, who had read the letter aloud in a low voice, now laid it down,
and looked palely at her two old friends.

"A hard letter," said the chaplain, indignantly. "My child, remain with
us. We will think of some other plan for you. Let the proud,
cold-hearted old woman go."

"I told you how it would be," said Miss Lois, a bright spot of red on
each cheek-bone. "She was cruel to your mother before you, and she will
be cruel to you. You must give it up."

"No," said Anne, slowly, raising the letter and replacing it in its
envelope; "it is a matter in which I have no choice. She gives me the
year at school, as you see, and--there are the children. I promised
father, and I must keep the promise. Do not make me falter, dear
friends, for--I _must_ go." And unable longer to keep back the tears,
she hurriedly left the room.

Dr. Gaston, without a word, took his old felt hat and went home. Miss
Lois sat staring vaguely at the window-pane, until she became conscious
that some one was coming up the path, and t