"Such a nice note, mother. Shall I read it to you?"
"Yes, if you like. I always enjoy uncle's letters."
"It sounds just like his talk," Mildred said when she had done reading, "saying the kindest things half jestingly, half earnestly. But the idea of his thinking I must have wondered that he gave me no special parting gift!—when he was all the time heaping favors upon me."
"But it was Cousin Horace who gave the piano," said Ada.
"Yes; uncle the books. And now I must strive to show my appreciation of their kindness by making the best possible use of both presents."
"For your own improvement and that of others," added her mother. "I want you to lend them, one at a time, to Effie Prescott and poor Gotobed Lightcap."
"What about him, mother?" Mildred asked, taking up her sewing. "The children told me he had been elected sheriff."
"Yes; I was very glad. He deserves every encouragement, for he is trying hard to educate himself, and I really hope some day may be able to enter one of the learned professions."
"Poor fellow!" Mildred exclaimed feelingly, tears starting to her eyes as memory brought vividly before her the sad scenes connected with the loss of his right hand, "he is welcome to the use of any or all of my books. I will gladly do anything in my power to help him."
"Now, suppose we talk about ourselves and our own affairs," Zillah suggested in her sprightly way. "I'm extremely anxious to learn to play on that lovely piano, but don't see how either you, mother, or Milly is to find time to give me lessons, for you are both busy as bees now from morning to night."