it was the boy who snatched it as he ran away at the sound of Anna's
key opening the outside door. "But I will never let him in again, Miss
Annie, 'deed I won't," said Sallie.

And now it was all peaceful for some weeks and then Sallie with
fatuous simplicity began on certain evenings to resume her bright red
waist, her bits of jewels and her crinkly hair.

One pleasant evening in the early spring, Miss Mathilda was standing
on the steps beside the open door, feeling cheerful in the pleasant,
gentle night. Anna came down the street, returning from her evening
out. "Don't shut the door, please, Miss Mathilda," Anna said in a low
voice, "I don't want Sallie to know I'm home."

Anna went softly through the house and reached the kitchen door. At
the sound of her hand upon the knob there was a wild scramble and
a bang, and then Sallie sitting there alone when Anna came into the
room, but, alas, the butcher boy forgot his overcoat in his escape.

You see that Anna led an arduous and troubled life.

Anna had her troubles, too, with Miss Mathilda. "And I slave and slave
to save the money and you go out and spend it all on foolishness,"
the good Anna would complain when her mistress, a large and careless
woman, would come home with a bit of porcelain, a new etching and
sometimes even an oil painting on her arm.

"But Anna," argued Miss Mathilda, "if you didn't save this money,
don't you see I could not buy these things," and then Anna would
soften and look pleased until she learned the price, and then wringing