of a handsome present.

Mr. Freeman was in town, so my father left his compliments and thanks to
him for having given me employment, and ordered plants to the amount of
twenty pounds to be sent to his house in Piccadilly. We went to a
different part of the garden in quest of Davis and his son Tommy. We
soon found them, and, on making myself known to the father, the poor man
could not forbear shedding tears, and said he should be ashamed as long
as he lived to think how I had been turned out of his cottage. My father
begged him not to think of it any longer, for that we did not, and it
was with difficulty that he prevailed on him to accept a present which
Davis said he did not deserve, and that it was like a reproach to him.

'Say no more, I beg of you,' said my father; 'my daughter can only think
of the kindness you showed her, and we shall always remember it with
gratitude.'

Little Tommy, as soon as he felt convinced that I was the same Lady
Anne that used to live in their cottage, took my hand, kissed it, and
said he would make me a prettier box than I had ever seen, for that he
made them much better now than when I lived with them. I gave the little
fellow a guinea, and I gave his sister Phoebe five shillings, for though
I did not entertain any resentment against her, yet I did not think it
would be just to give her as much as her brother, who had always been
kind to me, and was an honest boy. We then took leave of them, and
returned to town.

The next morning, after breakfast was over, my father ordered the
carriage, and we drove to Covent Garden to pay a visit to Mrs. Williams
and her family. When we arrived at the Garden I led the way to the shop,
and found her and her two daughters busy in setting out the fruit and
flowers. I asked her the price of some of them, and though she answered
me as a stranger, yet I saw that she looked at me very earnestly, but
her daughter Jane, having observed me, whispered to her mother:

'I am sure that is the little girl that we took in who was in such
distress; I am positive it was her.'

Mrs. Williams again looked at me very intently. I smiled, and said:

'Yes, Mrs. Williams, I am that poor child that you were so kind as to
take in and feed and clothe.'

'Bless your sweet face,' said she, 'and so you are; and have you found
your friends, and is your father living?'

'Yes, my good friend,' replied my father, 'I am that happy father, and
can never be sufficiently gratefu