"She has disarranged everything," the girl murmured. "I believe I will
repack everything from the bottom, as the dresses will be full of
wrinkles if left like this."

She removed every article, and noticing that the cloth in the bottom was
dusty, took it out and shook it.

As she was about to replace it, she was startled to find herself gazing
down upon a large crayon picture of a beautiful girl.

A low, startled cry broke from her lips, for the face looking up into
hers was so like her own that it almost seemed as if she were gazing at
her own reflection in a mirror, only the hair was arranged differently
from the way she wore hers, and the neck was dressed in the style of
twenty years previous.

"Oh, I am sure that this is a picture of my mother," she murmured, with
bated breath, as, with reverent touch, she lifted it and gazed long and
earnestly upon it.

"If you could but _speak_ and tell me all that sad story--what caused
that man to desert you in the hour of your greatest need!" she continued,
with starting tears, for the eyes, so life-like, looking into hers,
seemed to be seeking for sympathy and comfort. "Oh, how cruel it all was,
and why should those last few weeks of your life have been so shrouded in
mystery?"

She fell to musing sadly, with the picture still in her hands, and became
so absorbed in her thoughts that she was almost unconscious of everything