ey come to a dollar and
a half, because that was what a new one would cost. Before the teapot
was paid for I did break a glass dish. I didn't know 't would hurt it to
put it in hot water; and everything else that was broke, she thought I
broke it, and she kept it out of my wages. I told her I didn't see as
she ought to; and in the fall she said she couldn't put up with my sauce
and my breaking no longer. Mrs. Kittredge wanted a girl, and I went
there."

"And how did you find it there?"

"I think it was about the hardest place of all. I'd as lives go back to
the poor-house as to stay there. Sally Kittredge used to tell things
that wa'n't true about me. She told one day that I pushed her down. I
never touched my hand to her. But Mrs. Kittredge got a raw hide up
stairs and give it to me awful. I shouldn't wonder if it showed now;
just look."

She undid the fastening of her dress and slipped off the waist for me to
see. The little back--she was very small--was all discolored with
stripes, purple, green, and yellow. After showing me these bruises, she
quietly fastened her dress again.

Now there was that in Rhoda's manner during this narration which wrought
in my mind entire conviction of its verity. By the time of Uncle and
Aunt Bradburn's return, she was growing in favor with every one in the
house. She was gentle, patient, and grateful.

The deftness with which she used those small fingers suggested to me the
idea of teaching her some of the more delicate kinds of fancy-work. But
it seemed that she required no teaching. An opportunity given of looking
on while one was embroidering, crocheting, or making tatting, and the
process was her own. Native tact imparted to her at once the skill which
others attain only by long practice. As for her fine sewing, it was
exquisite; and in looking at it, one half regretted the advent of the
sewing-machine.

The fall days grew short; the winter came and went; and in the course of
it, besides doing everything that was required of her in the household,
keeping up the reading and writing, and satisfactory progress in
arithmetic, Rhoda had completed, at my suggestion, ten of those little
tatting collars, made of fine thread, and rivalling in delicate beauty
the loveliest fabrics of lace.

Because a project was on foot for Rhoda. A friend of mine going to
Boston took charge of the little package of collars, and the result was
that the proprietor of a fancy-store there engaged to rec