told
her the whole story. In her gratitude to her mistress, and her
contrition, she had to.

It was so long ago in Ann's childhood, it did not seem so very
dreadful to Mrs. Polly, probably. But Ann insisted on the indentures
remaining in the desk, even after the papers of adoption were made
out, and she had become "Ann Wales." It seemed to go a little way
toward satisfying her conscience. This adoption meant a good deal to
Ann; for besides a legal home, and a mother, it secured to her a
right in a comfortable property in the future. Mrs. Polly Wales was
considered very well off. She was a smart business-woman, and knew
how to take care of her property too. She still hired Phineas Adams
to carry on the blacksmith's business, and kept her farm-work running
just as her husband had. Neither she nor Ann were afraid of work, and
Ann Wales used to milk the cows, and escort them to and from pasture,
as faithfully as Ann Ginnins.

It was along in spring time when Ann was adopted, and Mrs. Polly
fulfilled her part of the contract in the indentures by getting the
Sunday suit therein spoken of.

They often rode on horseback to meeting, but they usually walked on
the fine Sundays in spring. Ann had probably never been so happy in
her life as she was walking by Mrs. Polly's side to meeting that
first Sunday after her adoption. Most of the way was through the
woods; the tender light green boughs met over their heads; the
violets and anemones were springing beside their path. There were
green buds and white blossoms all around; the sky showed blue between
the waving branches, and the birds were singing.

Ann in her pretty petticoat of rose-colored stuff, stepping daintily
over the young grass and the flowers, looked and felt like a part of
it all. Her dark cheeks had a beautiful red glow on them; her black
eyes shone. She was as straight and graceful and stately as an Indian.

"She's as handsome as a picture," thought Mrs. Polly in her secret
heart. A good many people said that Ann resembled Mrs. Polly in her
youth, and that may have added force to her admiration.

Her new gown was very fine for those days; but fine as she was, and
adopted daughter though she was, Ann did not omit her thrifty ways
for once. This identical morning Mrs. Polly and she carried their
best shoes under their arms, and wore their old ones, till within a
short distance from the meeting-house. Then the old shoes were tucked
away under a stone wall for s