e other place, got something from
every one, till, at last, their basket was full. Then they went
home, and got a peck of apples from their mother.

Willie then led the way to Granny Horton's again. They looked in at
the window, and, by the light of the few embers still burning, saw
the good woman asleep in her great, old-fashioned chair, with her
spectacles on, and by her side a little stand on which lay her Bible
open at the place where she had been reading.

"I can get in," said Willie, "and put the basket down by her side
before she wakes."

Accordingly, he went to a little window in the back part of the
house, climbed in, came softly into the room where she was, and set
the baskets, all running over with good things, down on the hearth.
Willie had hardly got back to the window, when the good woman waked
up; and there, directly before her eyes, stood the baskets. She took
them up, and looked at them for some minutes before she took any
thing out. At last, she began to examine their contents. When she
came to her chicken and flour and raisins, in the very papers in
which she had wrapped them; she looked up and clasped her hands with
such astonishment, with such a look of wonder and gratitude, that
the boys, in their glee, laughed outright, and so loud that she
heard them.

She ran to the window, but they were gone; and she never knew how it
was that her chicken and flour brought her back seven fold.

When next the cook went to see her, with me on,--I was every body's
cloak,--the old lady told her the whole story of finding the chicken
and flour, and so many other good things with them. The secret was
kept; and it was Granny Horton's firm faith that it was the wings of
angels she heard when she went to the window. Indeed she thought she
had seen the wings, for as Willie turned to run, he forgot to hold
me tight, and the wind blew me up so as to hide him entirely, and
she took me for great dark wings.

I fear you may be weary of my story. I have much more that I could
relate, but I have already been too long.

I am, as you see, ragged and worn, but the dear family have an
affection for me still, as well as for all the rest of us; and so I
am allowed to remain here in this most respectable company. I trust
the wig will now give us his history for which we have waited so
long."

"There is time enough before eight o'clock for the story of the
wig," said Frank, "if you can remember it, Mother. He ought to tell