free and far with cheerful comrades, over rolling hills and
cornfields, glorious in the setting sun, and dogwood white and shining
underneath the moon and clear stars over head, and brilliant air and
tingling blood, it was hard to have to think of Anna's anger at the
late return, though Miss Mathilda had begged that there might be no
hot supper cooked that night. And then when all the happy crew of
Miss Mathilda and her friends, tired with fullness of good health and
burning winds and glowing sunshine in the eyes, stiffened and justly
worn and wholly ripe for pleasant food and gentle content, were all
come together to the little house--it was hard for all that tired crew
who loved the good things Anna made to eat, to come to the closed
door and wonder there if it was Anna's evening in or out, and then the
others must wait shivering on their tired feet, while Miss Mathilda
softened Anna's heart, or if Anna was well out, boldly ordered
youthful Sallie to feed all the hungry lot.

Such things were sometimes hard to bear and often grievously did
Miss Mathilda feel herself a rebel with the cheerful Lizzies, the
melancholy Mollies, the rough old Katies and the stupid Sallies.

Miss Mathilda had other troubles too, with the good Anna. Miss
Mathilda had to save her Anna from the many friends, who in the kindly
fashion of the poor, used up her savings and then gave her promises in
place of payments.

The good Anna had many curious friends that she had found in the
twenty years that she had lived in Bridgepoint, and Miss Mathilda
would often have to save her from them all.