CHAPTER II 



"BuT I only look up at the Master 



With a life that is veiled and dumb, 

 Content to share with the sparrow 

 His love, and the falling crumb." 



WILLIS BOYD ALLEN. 



MY sins of ignorance for the two 

 weeks to come were many; my 

 little new teeth ached and grum- 

 bled, and I seemed to crave something 

 to gnaw and chew upon. A cunning little 

 basket, that had belonged first to Flossie 

 and then to his saucy successor, Babe, and 

 whose wicker bore the marks of many little 

 rasping teeth, was brought forth, with a soft 

 new downy cushion, for my benefit, and 

 into it, as soon as my foster mother's back 

 was turned, I dragged many a dainty slipper 

 and glove, for I especially loved what she 

 had worn, as well as many a pencil, and 

 spools of thread without number. 



When all were gone to church one winter 

 morning, the door was left ajar to mamma's 



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