r could forget dear Connie."

"I don't want you to forget her. I have been planning a delightful
surprise for you with regard to her. But other things you can forget."

"There's another person I don't want to forget," said Ronald; "that is
the good woman in the country who gave me delicious new-laid eggs and
chops and chicken. Mrs. Cricket was her name. I used to think of _The
Cricket on the Hearth_ often when I was looking at her. She was very
like one, you know--such a cosy, purring sort of woman."

"How long were you with her, Ronald?"

"I don't remember going to her," said Ronald, shaking his head; "but
perhaps I was too ill. But I do remember being with her, and the little
path in the wood, and how I gradually got better, and how she petted me.
And I remember Connie coming down the path looking like an angel; but
Connie was the only bright thing for me to think about that dreadful
day. But oh, please--please, Mrs. Anderson! poor Mrs. Cricket! Father
hasn't come back, you know--he is coming, of course, but he hasn't come
yet--and no one has paid Mrs. Cricket!"

"No one has paid her, dear?"

"Nobody at all. Mammy Warren said to her that father would pay her, but
I know now it must have been all a lie."

"I am very much afraid it was," said Mrs. Anderson. "That Mammy Warren
was a dreadful woman. Well, Ronald, I must try and get Mrs. Cricket's
address, and we'll send her some money; and some day perhaps--there's no
saying when--you may be able to go back to her. Would you like to see
her again?"

"Very, very much," said the child, "if Mammy Warren doesn't come to
fetch me."

"Very well: I will endeavor to get her address. Perhaps Connie could
tell me."

"Oh! perhaps she could," said Ronald; "for _I_ couldn't. I haven't a
notion where she lived, except that it was far in the country, and the
cottage was _teeny_--just two rooms, you know--and there was a pretty
wood outside, and the horse-chestnuts lying on the ground."

"But now, Ronald, I want you to go farther back. Tell me of things that
happened when--when your mother was alive."

"I--I'll try," said the boy.

"Go on, dear--tell me all you can."

"It's very difficult," said Ronald. "I remember little bits, and then I
forget little bits."

"I don't want you to worry yourself, dear; but can you recall anybody
ever calling to see your mother--anybody who might be a relation of
yours?"

"There was the old gentleman, of course," said Ronald.

"Who,