Nearly a year had passed away, and no one had appeared. The unfortunate lady's purse was soon emptied--and her watch, with one or two trinkets of slight value, disposed of. The child was of small cost, but still her sordid protectress harped perpetually on her ill luck: she had a family of her own, and plenty of mouths to feed. Missy was but little, but she would get bigger--though for that matter it was worse now, as she wanted more taking care of--besides, she was getting quite a disgrace--her bonnet was so shabby, and her shoes worn out--and how could she afford to buy others for one who was not a bit of her flesh and blood, to the evident hurt of her own children? It was bad enough now; but, by-and-by, she saw nothing but the parish; though Missy was born for better than that, and her poor mamma would turn in her grave at the name of such a thing. For her part, she was to blame, she feared, and too generous--but she would wait yet a little longer before it came to that--for who could tell--and here Mrs. Baker's prudence dammed up the stream of her eloquence--to no living ear did she dare trust her dream of the coach and six that might one day come for her little charge--and the remuneration and presents that would be heaped upon her; she actually saved the child's best frock, though she had quite outgrown it, that on such a day her appearance might do her honour. But this was a secret--she hid these vague but splendid images deep in her heart, lest some neighbour might be seized with a noble emulation--and, through some artifice, share in her dreamy gains. It was these anticipations that prevented Mrs. Baker from taking any decisive step injurious to her charge--but they did not shed any rosy hues over her diurnal complaints--they grew more peevish and frequent as time passed away, and her visions attained no realization. The little orphan grew, meanwhile, as a garden rose that accident has thrown amid briers and weeds--blooming with alien beauty, and unfolding its soft petals--and shedding its ambrosial odour beneath the airs of heaven, unharmed by its strange position. Lovely as a day of paradise, which, by some strange chance, visits this nether world to gladden every heart, she charmed even her selfish protectress; and, despite her shabby attire, her cherub smiles--the free and noble steps which her tiny feet could take even now, and the music of her voice, rendered her the object of respect and admiration, as well as love, to the whole village.