master milked. But the hope was vain. When she saw Mr. Wales come in,
glance her way, and then call his wife out, she knew at once what had
happened, and begun to tremble--she knew perfectly what Mr. Wales was
saying out there. It was this: "That little limb has driven home all
Neighbor Belcher's cows instead of ours; what's going to be done with
her?"

She knew what the answer would be, too. Mrs. Polly was a peremptory
woman.

Back Ann had to go with the Belcher cows, fasten them safely in their
pasture again, and drive her master's home. She was hustled off to
bed, then, without any of that beautiful supper. But she had just
crept into her bed in the small unfinished room up stairs where she
slept, and was lying there sobbing, when she heard a slow, fumbling
step on the stairs. Then the door opened, and Mrs. Deacon Thomas
Wales, Samuel Wales' mother, came in. She was a good old lady, and
had always taken a great fancy to her son's bound girl; and Ann, on
her part, minded her better than any one else. She hid her face in
the tow sheet, when she saw grandma. The old lady had on a long black
silk apron. She held something concealed under it, when she came in.
Presently she displayed it.

"There--child," said she, "here's a piece of sweet cake and a couple
of simballs, that I managed to save out for you. Jest set right up
and eat 'em, and don't ever be so dretful naughty again, or I don't
know what will become of you."

This reproof, tempered with sweetness, had a salutary effect on Ann.
She sat up, and ate her sweet cake and simballs, and sobbed out her