ly amusing themselves, that he gave her
some copying which he had intended to have done in the office. With a
grateful glance from her brilliant dark eyes, she thanked him, and,
promising to bring the work back as soon as possible, she left the
office.

As the door closed behind her the lawyer opened a drawer and took
from it a little faded photograph of a young girl with dark eyes and
curly hair, looked at it long and sadly, then replaced it in the
drawer and went on with his work.

On the following day, when the office-boy announced "the young lady
with the copying," she was summoned to his office at once and given a
hearty hand-clasp.

"I am glad to see you again," the lawyer said. "I had a daughter you
remind me of strongly. She died when she was twelve years old. Be
seated, please, and tell me a little about yourself. You are very
young to be doing such work as this. Is your father living, and why
are you not in school?"

Compelled by his kindly interest, the young girl talked as freely with
him as if he were an old friend. Her name, she said, was Anna
Elizabeth Dickinson, and she was born in Philadelphia, thirteen years
before, on the 28th of October. Her father, John Dickinson, and her
mother, who had been Mary Edmundson before her marriage, were both
persons who were interested in the vital questions of the day, and
Anna had been brought up in an atmosphere of refinement and of high
principles. All this her new friend learned by a series of friendly
questions, and Anna, having begun her story, continued with a degree
of frankness which was little less than surprising, after so short an
acquaintance. Her father had been a merchant, and had died when she
was two years old, leaving practically no income for the mother to
live on and bring up her five children. Both mother and father were
Quakers, she said, and she was evidently very proud of her father, for
her eyes flashed as she said: "He was a wonderful man! Of course, I
can't remember it, but mother has told me that the last night of his
life, when he was very sick, he went to an anti-slavery meeting and
made a remarkably fine speech. Yes, father was wonderful."

"And your mother?" queried her new friend.

Tears dimmed the young girl's eyes. "There aren't any words to
express mother," she said. "That is why I am trying to work at night,
or at least part of the reason," she added, with frank honesty. "We
take boarders and mother teaches in a private scho