if you did n't know that every grown-up woman must have been a little girl once. Do you say those things a purpose, or do they come by accident, like ?"

"Did your mother die ?" asked Rose, not appearing. to hear Timmins's last question.

"Yes-and father, and brother, and sister, and the hull on 'em."

"Did you cry?"

"I'spose so; I know I was awful hungry."

"But did you cry because your mother was dead ?" "Partly, I suppose."

"When you went to bed, did you think you saw her face with a cloud all around it, and did you call 'Mother?' and did the eyes look sad at you, but stay still where they were? and when you went up toward the cloud and the face, did it all go away?"

"Lor', no; how you talk," said Timmins, as Rose's face grew still paler. "Don't-you make my flesh

creep."

"You would n't be afraid of your own dear mamma, would you?" asked Rose.

"Lor', yes, if she came to me that way," answered Timmins. "It is n't natur', child; you saw a-a-," and Timmins hesitated to pronounce the word ghost.

"I know you would n't run away from it, if it looked so sweet and loving at you," said Rose; "but why did it not come nearer to me? and why did it all fade away when I put out my arms to clasp it? That made

me think it could n't be my mamma, after all; and yet it was mamma, too, but so pale and sad."

"Wall-I don't know," said the perplexed Timmins; "you are beyend me; I don't know nothing about sperrits, and I don't want to; but come here; you've been asking me all sorts of questions, now I should like to ask you one."

Well," said Rose, abstractedly.

"What on airth made you carry on so like sixty about my washing you? Don't you like me?"

"Y-e-s,” replied Rose, blushing deeply.

"Wall, then, what was the matter with you? any scars on your body, or any thing ?"

"No," said Rose.

"What did ail you, then? for I'm curous to know; why did n't you want me to wash you?"

"It made me feel ashamed," said Rose; "nobody ever washed me but mamma; I did n't mind my

mamma."

"Wall, I'm beat if I can understand that," said Timmins, looking meditatively down upon the carpet; "and one of your own sect, as they call it, too. It seems ridikilis; but let me tell you, you'd better make no fuss here; none of the other childern does."

"Other children ?" asked Rose, 66 are there more children here? I did not hear any noise or playing." "No, I reckon you did n't," said Timmins, laughing. ("I wish to the land Mrs. Markham had heard you say

that ;") and Timmins laughed again, as if it was too good a joke to be thrown away on one listener. "Are their mothers dead, too, Timmins ?"

"I dare say-I reckon some on 'em don't know much who their fathers and mothers was," said Timmins.

"They had some, did n't they ?"

"In course," said Timmins; "why, you are enough to kill old folks; sometimes you are away beyend me, and sometimes not quite up to me, as one may say, but you'd better shut up now, for Mrs. Markham will be along presently."

"Do you think Mrs. Markham is a good woman ?” asked Rose.

"About as good as you've seen," said the diplomatic Timmins, touching the cut on Rose's temple; "the quicker you mind her when she speaks, the betterthat's all."

"Do you like her?" asked Rose.

"No-sh-yes-why, what a thing you are to make people say what they don't mean to. I like you, any how. But don't you never act as if I did, before folks, because my hands is tied, you see."

"I don't know what you mean," said Rose.

"Sh-sh-did n't I tell you to shut up? Somebody is as stealthy as a cat ;" and Timmins 'ooked uneasily at the key-hole of the door

CHAPTER II.

MR. BALCH was a bachelor of forty-five, with a small fortune, and a large bump of credulity. Like all ancient and modern bachelors, he liked "to be made of," and Mrs. Markham's hawk eye discovered this little weakness, and turned it to her own advantage. A moneyed man's vote on a committee is of some importance, and Markham had an eye to the perpetuity of her salary; further than that, we have no right to probe the secrets of her unappropriated heart.

On the visit in question, she received Mr. Balch very graciously, inquired with great solicitude concerning his rheumatism, which she averred was quite prevalent that year among young people; gave him the most eligible seat on the sofa, and apologized for having kept him waiting so long.

"Not a word, my dear lady, not a word," said the pleased Balch. "We all know how onerous are your duties, and how indefatigably conscientious you are in the performance of them. It was spoken of at the last meeting of the Board; I wish you to know that your services are fully appreciated by us."

"Oh! thank you-thank you, Mr. Balch. You are too kind. None of us can say that we are insensible to appreciation, or independent of our fellow-creatures. It is particularly grateful to me in my lonely condition" (and here Markham heaved a sigh as long as her corsets would allow her,) "for these dear little orphans are all I have to love, and I think I may say I have won their little hearts."

"We know it, we all know it, my dear lady; but you must not allow your duties to press too heavily. I thought you looked over-weary this evening."

"Do I?" asked Markham, snapping her eyes to make them look brighter. "Ah, well-it is very likely the poor little darling who came here to-day, was taken in a fit. I find she is subject to them, and I had just brought her safely out of it, when I came to you. One can't help feeling at such a time, you know, unless indeed, one is a stock, or a stone, and my sensibilities are almost too acute for my situation."

"Very true, my dear lady; but for our sakes, for my sake," and Mr. Balch lowered his tone," do try to control them, though to me, a female without sensibility is a-a-monster, Mrs. Markham."

"I can't conceive of it," said that lady, in extreme disgust.

"No, of course you can not; how should you?" asked Balch. "I wish that I-we-I-dared say how much we think of you."