certain
outcasts of society whom others despised or had forgotten. They, on
their limp and dissolute bodies, wore all the finery I could find to
pile on them: and one shady transaction done on their behalf I remember
now without pangs. There was one creature of state whom an inconsiderate
relative had presented to Anna and myself in equal shares. Of course
Anna's became more and more lionlike. I had very little love for the
bone of contention myself, but the sense of injustice rankled in me. So
one day, at an unclothing, Anna discovered that certain undergarments
were gone altogether away. She sat aghast, questioned me, and, when I
refused to disgorge, screamed down vengeance from the authorities. I was
morally certain I had taken no more than my just share, and resolution
sat on my lips under all threats. For a punishment the whole ownership
of the big doll was made over to Anna: I was no worse off, and was very
contented with my obstinacy. To-day I found the beautifully wrought
bodice, which I had carried beyond reach of even the supreme court of
appeal, clothing with ridiculous looseness a rag-doll whose head
tottered on its stem like an over-ripe plum, and whose legs had no
deportment at all: and am sending it off in charitable surrender to
Anna to be given, bag and rag, to whichever one of the children she
likes to select.

Also I found:--would you care to have a lock of hair taken from the head
of a child then two years old, which, bright golden, does not match what
I have on now in the least? I can just remember her: but she is much of
a stranger to both of us. Why I value it is that the name and date on
the envelope inclosing it are in my mother's handwriting: and I suppose
_she_ loved very much the curly treasure she then put away. Some of the
other things, quite funny, I will show you the next time you come over.
How I wish that vanished mite had mixed some of her play-hours with
yours:--you only six miles away all the time: had one but known!--Now
grown very old and loving, always your own.

LETTER LV.

Beloved: I am getting quite out of letter-writing, and it is your doing,
not mine. No sooner do I get a line from you than you rush over in person
and take the answer to it out of my mouth!

I have had six from you in the last week, and believe I have only
exchanged you one: all the rest have been nipped in the bud by your
arrivals. My pen turns up a cross nose whenever it hears you coming now,
a