minds; and, Samuel Wales' gossip in Boston, Sam Vaughan, had been
requested to keep a lookout for a suitable person.

So, when word came that one had been found, Mr. Wales had started at
once for the city. When he saw the child, he was dismayed. He had
expected to see a girl of ten; this one was hardly five, and she had
anything but the demure and decorous air which his Puritan mind
esteemed becoming and appropriate in a little maiden. Her hair was
black and curled tightly, instead of being brown and straight parted
in the middle, and combed smoothly over her ears as his taste
regulated; her eyes were black and flashing, instead of being blue,
and downcast. The minute he saw the child, he felt a disapproval of
her rise in his heart, and also something akin to terror. He dreaded
to take this odd-looking child home to his wife Polly; he foresaw
contention and mischief in their quiet household. But he felt as if
his word was rather pledged to his gossip, and there was the mother,
waiting and expectant. She was a red-cheeked English girl, who had
been in Sam Vaughan's employ; she had recently married one Burjust,
and he was unwilling to support the first husband's child, so this
chance to bind her out and secure a good home for her had been
eagerly caught at.

The small Ann seemed rather at Samuel Wales' mercy, and he had not
the courage to disappoint his friend or her mother; so the necessary
papers were made out, Sam Vaughan's and wife's signatures affixed,
and Margaret Burjust's mark, and he set out on his homeward journey
with the child.

The mother was coarse and illiterate, but she had some natural
affection; she "took on" sadly when the little girl was about to