of drawers, and brought out a print,
which she laid on the table, and lifted Tiny, chair and all, close up to
look at it.

Pictures were not to be seen in every cottage a few years ago, as they
may be now. The _Band of Hope Review_ and _British Workman_ had not been
heard of in Fellness at the time of which we write, and so Dame Peters
was very choice of her picture, although she knew nothing about the
reading at the back of it.

Tiny brightened up wonderfully when her eyes fell upon this treasure;
but after looking at it for some minutes, while Dame Peters turned out
the potatoes, she ventured to lift it up and look at the other side, and
she exclaimed joyfully: "Oh, it's a book! There's reading on it!"

"What, what!" exclaimed the old woman, turning from the fireplace to see
what had happened. "What is it, child?"

"See, see, there's reading--G O D! What does that spell?" asked Tiny,
looking up in the old woman's face, her finger still resting on the word
she had picked out.

"Bless the child, how should I know? S'pose it is some sort of reading,
as you say; but I never learned a letter in my life."

"And I've a'most forgot," said Tiny, sadly; and then her finger roved
over the printed page, and she found that she could remember most of the
letters now she saw them again; but how to put them together was the
difficulty. She had forgotten how to do this entirely. G O D spelt a
word familiar enough to her at one time, but which of all the words she
used now those letters were intended to signify, she could not remember.
Again and again her finger returned to the well-remembered letters, but
beyond this her memory failed her; and she sat, with puckered brow and
steadfast eyes, still looking at the printed page instead of the
picture, when Coomber came back.

"Oh, daddy, daddy, look here!" exclaimed Tiny; "here's a book with
reading!"

"She's just sat and looked at them letters, as she calls 'em, ever since
you've been gone," said Dame Peters, in a half-offended tone; for her
picture was not valued as much as it ought to be, she thought.

"Oh, she's a rum 'un," said Coomber. "Well, now, are you ready, little
'un?" he asked.

Tiny looked up wistfully in the old woman's face. "Couldn't I take this
home, and show it to Dick?" she asked, timidly, laying her hand on the
print.

"Take my picture home!" exclaimed the old woman.

Coomber turned the paper over, and looked at it contemptuously. "Peters
got this when