vessel of wrath which was perched up behind him, and there was a
tingling sensation at the roots of his queue. He wondered what Polly
would say. The first glance at her face, when he lifted Ann off the
horse at his own door, confirmed his fears. She expressed her mind,
in a womanly way, by whispering in his ear at the first opportunity,
"She's as black as an Injun."

After Ann had eaten her supper, and had been tucked away between some
tow sheets and homespun blankets in a trundle-bed, she heard the whole
story, and lifted up her hands with horror. Then the good couple read
a chapter, and prayed, solemnly vowing to do their duty by this
child which they had taken under their roof, and imploring Divine
assistance.

As time wore on, it became evident that they stood in sore need of it.
They had never had any children of their own, and Ann Ginnins was the
first child who had ever lived with them. But she seemed to have the
freaks of a dozen or more in herself, and they bade fair to have the
experience of bringing up a whole troop with this one. They tried
faithfully to do their duty by her, but they were not used to
children, and she was a very hard child to manage. A whole legion of
mischievous spirits seemed to dwell in her at times, and she became
in a small and comparatively innocent way, the scandal of the staid
Puritan neighborhood in which she lived. Yet, withal, she was so
affectionate, and seemed to be actuated by so little real malice in
any of her pranks, that people could not help having a sort of liking
for the child, in spite of them.

She was quick to learn, and smart to work, too, when she chose.
Sometimes she flew about with such alacrity that it seemed as if