“I—I think there are some places which I should like better.”
“No doubt, no doubt, Helen. I think I have known pleasanter places myself. But where do you think you should like to live best; that is, supposing you could live wherever you chose?”
“Oh!” said the child, her eyes brightening, and her whole face glowing with excitement, “I should like, above all things, to live in the country, where I could run about the fields, and hear the birds sing, and—and⸺ Oh! the country is so beautiful! I think I lived there once,—did I not, uncle?”
“Yes, Helen; but it is a good while ago. How would you like to live there once more?”
“May I? Can I? Will you let me?” asked the child, eagerly.
“Perhaps so. But it will depend on whether you will be good, and try to please me.”
“Oh! I will do whatever you say.”
“Well, that sounds well. Then I’ll tell you what my plans are, and where it is that you are to go.”
So saying, he drew from his pocket a copy of the “New York Tribune,” and read aloud the following advertisement:—