“I like to live here,” said little Fanny, running up to Lucy, with her sun-bonnet hanging at the back of her neck; her cheeks glowing, and her apron full of acorns, pebbles, pine leaves, grasses and flowers; “see here, I tied them up with a blade of grass for you, and here’s a white clover; a great bumble bee wanted it, he buzzed and buzzed, but I ran off with it; won’t you go with me, grandmother, and help me find a four-leaved clover? Don’t sew any more on those old vests. Who taught you to make vests?” asked the little chatterbox. “O, I learned many--many--years ago,” replied Lucy, with a sigh, as she thought of Jacob; “and now you see, dear, what a good thing it is to learn something useful when one is young. If I did not know how to make these vests, I could not pay for this room we live in, you know; here, thread my needle, darling, either the eye is too small, or my eye is too dim; I can’t see as well as I used.” “I wish I could do something useful,” said Fanny, as she handed back the needle. “I can only brush up the hearth, and fill the tea-kettle, and pick up your spools, and thread your needle, and--what else, grandma?” “Make this lonely old heart glad, my darling,” said Lucy, pressing her lips to Fanny’s forehead. “Why didn’t my papa ever come kiss me?” asked Fanny. “Was I too naughty for my papa to love?” “No--no, my darling,” said Lucy, turning away her head to restrain her tears, “you are the best little girl that--but run away, Fanny,” said she, fearing to trust herself to speak. “Go find grandma a pretty four-leaved clover.” The child sprang up and bounded toward the door. Standing poised on one foot on the threshold, with her little neck bending forward, she exclaimed eagerly, “Oh, grandma, I dare not; there’s a man climbing over the stile into the meadow, with a pack on his back; won’t he hurt me?” “No,” said Lucy, peering over her spectacles at the man, and then resuming her seat, “it is only a peddler, Fanny; shops are scarce in the country, so they go round with tapes, needles, and things, to sell the farmers’ wives. I am glad he has come, for I want some more sewing-silk to make these button-holes.” “Good day, ma’am,” said the peddler, unlading his pack. “Would you like to buy any thing to-day? Combs--collars--needles--pins--tapes--ribbons--laces? buy any thing to-day, ma’am?” “May I look?” whispered Fanny to Lucy, attracted by the bright show in the box. “There’s a ribbon for your hair,” said the peddler, touching her curls caressingly; “and here is a string of beads for your neck. You will let me give them to you, won’t you? because I have no little girl to love;” and his voice trembled slightly. “May I love him, grandma?” whispered Fanny, for there was something in the peddler’s voice that brought tears into her eyes. “May I give him some milk to drink, and a piece of bread?” and hardly waiting for an answer, she flew to the cupboard, and returned with her simple lunch.