WHERE THE DOLL WENT.
Edna awoke, still wondering. Of course she realized that there was no hope of her going to the fair again that evening, for she had been up until ten o'clock the night before, and besides Aunt Elizabeth would not be well enough to go out into the night air, and Uncle Justus could not be expected to give up his warm corner and his easy chair a second time. So Edna contented herself with dwelling upon the delights of the evening before, and wrote a long account of it to sister. Writing to her sister or her parents was one of her regular Saturday employments. The letters were always strictly scrutinized by Aunt Elizabeth, and sometimes had to be written all over again.
Edna had just finished her letter when Ellen called her.
"Come, dear; there's a lady to see you in the parlor."
"Who can it be? O, maybe it is Miss Atkins, my Sunday-school teacher!"
"Shure, thin, it's not," replied Ellen; "but you're to hurry."
"This is Miss Martin," said Aunt Elizabeth, as Edna entered the room. "Come and speak to her."
"You know who I am, don't you?" said Miss Martin, drawing the little girl to her side.
Edna did know.
"You are our minister's daughter," she replied.