A Flat Iron for a Farthing

nd so I take an interest in it. Secondly, it is about some one very dear to me, as will appear hereafter. Thirdly, it is the only original story in my somewhat limited collection, and I am naturally

played by the flat iron, though important, was small; or because I and my affairs were most chiefly interesting to myself as writer, and my family as readers; or from

ather use the "little maid's" reckoning, and say that I have, rather than that I had, a sister. "Her grave is green, it may be seen." She

with much mysterious solemnity to see

member of our establishment, "and not on no accoun

the size and dignity of Mrs. Bundle's outward woman, I went

Her little face wore an expression seldom seen except on a few faces of those who have but lately come into this world, or those who are about to go from it. The hair t

smile for which no word is lovely enough; and in the eyes was a pure and far-seeing look, hardly to be imagined except by one who painted (like Fra Angelico) upon his knees. The background (like that of many

o go

stablished next day, when she washed my face before dinner. My own nurse was bony, her hands were all knuckles, and she washed my face as sh

Cadman from the village was of the party, and neither cakes nor conversation flagged. Mrs. Cadman had hollow eyes, and (on occasion) a h

s she do,"

I; and I did really think it a great complime

nge observations-when one is struggling to understand life through the mist of novelties about one, and the addit

Bundle (commissioned by my father) had brought from the town for me; but when I had put all the round arches on the pairs of pillars, and h

hollow tone. "It took notice from the first. Mark my words, ma'am, a sweeter

ings one perceives in part. I understood, or felt, enough of what I heard, and of the sympathetic sighs that followed Mrs

y and good for this

e housekeeper, to whom it was directed. I

aster Reginald. Who did he th

ter," said I, wi

ous Mrs. Cadman; "housekeeper and me wa

Mrs. Jones l

on town,

to rest. People came in and out with a pretentious purpose of not awaking me. My father never came to bed. I felt convinced that I heard the doctor's voice in the passage. At last, while it was yet dark, and when I seemed to have been sleeping and waking, waking and falling asleep again in my crib for weeks, my father came in with a strange look upon his face, and took me up in his arms, a

d myself to sleep. It was too true, then. She was too good a

left us also. She never knew a harde