as sixteen, and had come to
the place where she was able to understand much that Debby did not tell
her.

She knew that something lay back of all this. Why had none of these
people come for her? What were they that they would leave a little child
in the world without ever making an effort to find her? They could not
have been fine people. Hester was confident of that. She had picked up
Debby's word and mentally set down the people from which she had sprung
as "poor stock."

"If I ever am anything at all, it will be because of Aunt Debby's
training," she concluded as the last article of her mother's clothes lay
in her hands.

"It seems strange that they never came for you."

"I'm glad they didn't," responded Hester. Her pride was in arms. If her
own people cared so little for her, she would never grieve for them.

"I am glad--very glad that they didn't," she repeated. "I belong to you.
I'd rather be your girl than anyone's else and I couldn't be that if
they had taken me away when I was a baby."

According to tradition, Hester's sentiment was not at all proper. One
should cherish one's family above all else.

"It isn't right to say such things, Hester. Of course, you and I are
very near to each other; but you cannot feel toward me as though I was
your mother."

"Of course not. I feel a great deal more." She arose to her feet,
dropping on the floor, the articles of clothing which had been in her
lap. "Why, Aunt Debby, I'd treasure an old shoe-lace of yours more than
those things." She pointed to the heap of clothes on the floor.

Debby meant to be firm. She had intended from the first that
Hester should be rigidly disciplined. She believed in "the
speak-when-spoken-to" child. But there are some arguments that cannot be
questioned. She wanted Hester to love her above anyone else. She could
not chide her for doing that. Debby's discipline went to the winds.

"How very foolish you talk, Hester!" she said reprovingly; but she
looked up at the girl with such a tender light in her eyes, that Hester
laughed aloud.

"But you like my foolishness, Aunt Debby. I know you do." She was down
beside Debby Alden with her hand laid caressingly on the woman's arm.

"Now, Hester, you are--"

"But you like me to be foolish. You know you do, Aunt Debby."

"I surely do not--"

Hester laughed again. Aunt Debby was blushing like a young school-girl.

"You cannot say that you do not like it," cried Hester. "You turn the
quest