"This is said to be Madam's wedding ring. I like to think so, and am very proud to be named for her, because she was a good woman as well as a"—
"Beauty," put in John, as the speaker paused to open a faded case in which lay a little ring of reddish gold.
"I was going to say—as well as a brave one; for I need courage," added the girl, surveying the old-fashioned trinket with such a sober face that the young man refrained from alluding to the remarkable coincidence of another John and Dolly looking at the wedding ring together.
She seemed to have forgotten all about her companion for a moment, and be busy with her own thoughts, as she put away her treasures with a care which made it a pleasure to watch her tie knots, adjust covers, repack her little bag, and finally fold her hands over it, saying gravely,—
"I love to think about those times; for it seems as if people were better then,—the men more honest, the women more womanly, and every thing simpler and truer than now. Does it ever seem so to you?"
"Indeed it does; for this very day, as I read the papers, I got quite low-spirited, thinking what a shameful state things have got into. Money seems to be the one idea, and men are ready to sell their souls for it," answered John, as soberly as she.
"Money is a good thing to have, though;" and Dolly gave a little sigh, as she drew her scarf over the worn edges of her jacket.
"So it is!" echoed John, with the hearty acquiescence of a man who had felt the need of it.
"My name and these old treasures are all my fortune, and I used to be contented with it; but I'm not now, dependence is so hateful!" added the girl, impulsively; then bit her lip, as if the words had escaped in spite of her.
"And this is all mine," said John, twirling the pencil which he still held; giving confidence for confidence, and glad to do it, if it made them better friends, for he pitied little Miss Dolly, suspecting what was true, that her home was not a happy one.