d. "You're real kind, judge," she said.
"I wanted--'twas only a little matter"--she stopped to clear her
throat, feeling the painful red creep up her cheeks, and over her
brow, and into her very eyes, it seemed; then she thought of David,
and straightway she found courage, and lifted her eyes and spoke out
bravely. "David Means, you know, judge; he is failing right along, and
it doos seem as if he couldn't last the winter. But Doctor Brown
thinks that if he should go to Florida, it might be so 't he could be
spared. So--David hasn't means himself, of course, what with his poor
health and his large family, and some thought that if we could raise a
subscription right here, among the folks that has always known David,
it might be so 't he could go. What do you think, judge?"

The judge nodded his head, thoughtfully.

"I don't see why it couldn't be done, Miss Peace," he said, kindly.
"David is a good fellow, and has friends wherever he is known; I
should think it might very well be done, if the right person takes it
up."

"I--I've had no great experience," faltered Anne Peace, looking down,
"but I'm kin to David, you know, and as he has no one nearer living, I
took it upon myself to carry round a paper and see what I could raise.
I came to you first, judge, as you've always been a good friend to
David. I've got twenty-five dollars already--"

"I thought you said you came to me first," said the judge, holding out
his hand for the paper. "What's this? A friend, twenty-five dollars?"

"Yes," said Anne Peace, breathlessly. "They--they didn't wish their
name mentioned--"

"Oh, they didn't, didn't they?" muttered the judge, looking at her
over his spectacles. Such a helpless look met his--the look of
hopeless innocence trying to deceive and knowing that it was not
succeeding--that a sudden dimness came into his own eyes, and he was
fain to take off his spectacles and wipe them, just as if he had been
looking through them. And through the mist he seemed to see--not Miss
Anne Peace, in her best bonnet and her cashmere shawl, but another
Anne Peace, a little, brown-eyed, slender maiden, sitting on a brown
bench, looking on with rapture while David Means ate her luncheon.

It was the judge's turn to clear his throat.

"Well, Anne," he said, keeping his eyes on the paper, "this--this
unknown friend has set a good example, and I don't see that I can do
less than follow it. You may put my name down for twenty-five, too."

"O