a row before the largest one, as Tim had once seen the children sitting
in the village school at Longville, when he had taken a donkey-load of
coals for the schoolmaster. Martha came in good time with little Nan,
both in their new black bonnets and clean cotton shawls; and all were
seated orderly in a row when Miss Anne entered the Red Gravel Pit by the
waggon road.

I need not describe to you how Miss Anne heard Stephen read his chapter,
and taught Tim and Martha, and even little Nan herself, the first few
letters of the alphabet; after which she made them all repeat a verse of
a hymn, and, when they could say it correctly, sang it with them over and
over again, in her sweet and clear voice, until Stephen felt almost
choked with a sob of pure gladness, that would every now and then rise to
his lips. Tim sang loudly and lustily, getting out of tune very often.
But little Nan was a marvel to hear, so soft and sweet were her childish
tones, so that Miss Anne bade her sing the verse alone, which she did
perfectly. Martha, too, was full of admiration of the lady's lilac silk
dress and the white ribbon on her bonnet.

That was the first of many pleasant Sunday mornings in the Red Gravel
Pit. When the novelty was worn away, Martha discovered that she had too
much to do at home to be able to leave it so early in the day; and Tim
sometimes overslept himself on a Sunday, when most of his comrades spent
the whole morning in bed. But Stephen and little Nan were always there,
and their teacher never failed to meet them. Nor did Miss Anne confine
her care of the orphan children to a Sunday morning only. Sometimes she
would mount the hill during the long summer evenings, and pay their
little household a visit, giving Martha many quiet hints about her
management and her outlay of Stephen's wages; hints which Martha did not
always receive as graciously as they were given. Miss Anne would read