a picture," thought Mrs. Polly in her secret
heart. A good many people said that Ann resembled Mrs. Polly in her
youth, and that may have added force to her admiration.

Her new gown was very fine for those days; but fine as she was, and
adopted daughter though she was, Ann did not omit her thrifty ways for
once. This identical morning Mrs. Polly and she carried their best
shoes under their arms, and wore their old ones, till within a short
distance from the meeting-house. Then the old shoes were tucked away
under a stone wall for safety, and the best ones put on. Stone walls,
very likely, sheltered a good many well-worn little shoes, of a
Puritan Sabbath, that their prudent owners might appear in the House
of God trimly shod. Ah! these beautiful, new, peaked-toed, high-heeled
shoes of Ann's--what would she have said to walking in them all the
way to meeting!

If that Sunday was an eventful one to Ann Wales, so was the week
following. The next Tuesday, right after dinner, she was up in a
little unfinished chamber over the kitchen, where they did such work
when the weather permitted, carding wool. All at once, she heard
voices down below. They had a strange inflection, which gave her
warning at once. She dropped her work and listened. "What is the
matter?" thought she.

Then there was a heavy tramp on the stairs, and Captain Abraham French
stood in the door, his stern weather-beaten face white and set. Mrs.
Polly followed him, looking very pale and excited.

"When did you see anything of our Hannah?" asked Captain French,
controlling as best he could the tremor in his resolute voice.

Ann rose, gathering up her big blue apron, cards, wool and all. "Oh,"
she cried, "not since last Sabbath, at meeting! What is it?"

"She's lost," answered Captain French. "She started to go up to her
Aunt Sarah's Monday forenoon; and Enos has just been down, and they
haven't seen anything of her." Poor Captain French gave a deep groan.

Then they all went down into the kitchen together, talking and
lamenting. And then, Captain French was galloping away on his gray
horse to call assistance, and Ann was flying away over the fields,
blue apron, cards, wool and all.

"O, Ann!" Mrs. Polly cried after, "where are you going?"

"I'm going--to find--Hannah!" Ann shouted back, in a shrill, desperate
voice, and kept on.

She had no definite notion as to where she was going; she had only one
thought--Hannah French, her darling, tender, litt