r him.

"Not very."

He frowned a little, and bent to his occupation. His hunger bore out
what he had said. He cleared the dishes and drained the teapot. Then he
rose, took his hat, and, without a look at Ann, jerked out a "much
obliged," and was gone.

"Well," said Ann, smiling to herself ruefully, thinking of to-morrow's
dinner, "talk about folks that eat an' run!"

But, washing the dishes and trying meantime to plan her happy afternoon,
she could not put away the memory of her brother's eyes and one tumbling
lock of hair; whispers from the past were clamorous at her ear.
Presently there was the sound of wheels, and Mrs. John C., perched
beside her meagre husband, called from the door:--

"Here we be, Ann. Where's your jug? What if you should clap on your
bunnit an' ride along to the street?"

She spoke cordially, judging that on such a spring day everybody was
better out of the woods and upon the highway.

"No," said Ann. "I got too much to do. I'm goin' into the pines arter
some goldthread an' sarsaparil'. 'Most time for spring bitters. But I'm
obleeged to ye for takin' the jug."

Half an hour later Ann closed the door behind her and, with a little
basket on her arm and a kitchen knife to dig with, wandered away to her
dear retreat. There she worked less than she had expected, the sunshine
was so beguiling. She found many spring treasures, the sort she came
upon year after year, and always with the same delighted wonder. A new
leaf or a budding plant was enough to send Ann off into vistas of quiet
joy. Spring clouds were thick, when she walked home, in a tumultuous
white flock, and she liked them as well as the blue they covered. The
earth was very satisfying to Ann. The air had made her hungry, and with
a smile at her own haste, she drew out her little table and began to set
it.

Suddenly she stopped, as if a hand had grasped her heart. The room was
different. A spot of brightness had gone out of it. The silver tea-set
was not there. She hurried into the sitting-room, wild with hope that
she might have set it away; but the place was empty. Ann went back into
the kitchen, and sank down because her knees refused to hold her. Not
once did she think of the value of what she had lost, but only as it
linked the past to her own solitary days. The tea-set had been a kind of
household deity, the memorial of her father's courage and her mother's
happiness, a brighter sun of life than any that could rise again. She