ing to leave the spot,
with one last look at the hut, when she perceived the old woman who had
so often before arrested her attention, outside the door, and Archie
himself near her, while a shaggy-haired man, with a pipe in his mouth
sauntered back and forth in front of the house, occasionally stopping to
address himself to one or the other of his companions. Kittie bestowed
but a passing glance upon the woman and the man, and bent her fixed and
interested gaze upon the boy, who sat upon the low step with his
forehead upon his hand, and his sad figure almost doubled together. It
was but a moment, however, before the head was raised, and the face
turned toward the heavens, with a look so full of reverence and
earnestness, that the delicate child shrunk away from her secret
observatory, with the feeling that it was a sacrilege to witness the
poor lad's sacred emotions, and with suffused eyes and a throbbing heart
she left the spot in order to return to her petted cousin.

"I've seen him, Willie," said she, half lying across the heavy pillows
and putting her mouth close to the youth's ear, "and he seemed so sad,
and yet so happy! You wouldn't like it at all down in that mean place
with such a looking man and woman to live with, would you, Willie?"

"I don't like any thing, Kittie, mean or not mean," muttered the boy.
"To be sure," he continued, seeing her surprised expression, as her eyes
fell upon the many comforts and luxuries with which he was surrounded,
"to be sure I live in a great house and have plenty of money and books,
and toys, and such things; but Kittie, what if you had this great hump
on your back, so that every body would look at you whenever you were
out, and pity and loathe you! I don't believe you would be any happier
than I. I don't care, I wish I was dead, anyhow!" and Willie buried his
head in the pillows while his little cousin tried to soothe and comfort
him.

"Perhaps I should think of it too much, Willie," said she, "and then it
would make me fretful and wretched; but mamma says if we fix our minds
on something pleasant, we shall forget the pains and troubles of life;
and only think, Willie, this is all the ill you have, while Archibald
Mackie is poor, and ragged, and an orphan besides!"

"Who's Archibald Mackie?" asked her cousin, "and what have I to do with
him?--'tis as much as I can do to think of myself!"

"That's the very thing, Willie," replied the little reasoner. "If you
would only tr