does she sing?" he asked with ill-concealed triumph. "Pretty well for
a country child, eh?"

"She sings like an angel," said Dr. Anthony,--"like an angel from
heaven."

"She has a right to, sir," said Miss Vesta, gravely. "She is a child
of God, who has never forgotten her Father."

Dr. Anthony turned toward the speaker, whom he had almost forgotten in
his intense interest in the child. "This lovely child is your own
niece, Madam?" he inquired. "She must be unspeakably dear to you."

Miss Vesta flushed. She did not often speak as she had just done,
being a New England woman; but "Annie Laurie" always carried her out
of herself, she declared. The answer to the gentleman's question was
one she never liked to make. "She is not my niece in blood," she said
slowly. "We are single women, my sister and I; but she is like our own
daughter to us."

"Twelve years this very month, Vesta, isn't it," said Dr. Brown,
kindly, "since the little one came to you? Do you remember what a wild
night it was?"

Miss Vesta nodded. "I hear the wind now when I think of it," she said.

"The child is an orphan," the doctor continued, turning to his friend.
"Her mother was a young Irish woman, who came here looking for work.
She was poor, her husband dead, consumption on her, and so on, and so
on. She died at the poorhouse, and left this blind baby. Tell Dr.