“Mrs. Evans thinks he considers her as good as his own child now,” said Mrs. Wilson. “You are to be three years in the University, my child, and you can’t think of a wife till that time is past.” “I don’t know what harm _thinking_ is to do a fellow. I am not in the University yet, and I don’t exactly see how I am to be there, unless I find a gold mine. If I could get employed to give lessons to that fox-pate, I might earn some money, and borrow more, and get an education and independence at last. One can’t expect beauty and tin together.” Success was all Mrs. Wilson asked for her son, and his life-plans did not seem to her at all profane. And he succeeded in obtaining the place he sought. He gave Fanny lessons in music and mathematics. It was a great triumph when Fanny got leave of Cousin Charles to learn music. She had thought of a piano, and dreamed of one, and thumped on one that belonged to a young friend for a long time—but she had no idea of ever being the happy possessor of a mine of music. At Christmas, just about two years from the time when she came to live with her cousin, she made a little “Christmas box” for her best friend. It contained a pair of slippers, a watch-holder, and a lamp-mat, all worked by herself. They had grown very pretty under her skillful fingers, but the coarse canvas had not changed more under her hands than she had changed since she had lived in this happy home. And she was daily improving. When Charles Evans found this Christmas gift on his table, he resolved to give Fanny just what she should ask for, and so he said, “I have only got you a book for Christmas, Fanny, but if you think of any thing else that you want, you must tell me.” “And will you really give it me?” said Fanny, and her deep-blue eyes seemed melting in their own lustre. “To be sure I will, because I have said so.” “Well, then, dear, good Cousin Charles, buy me a piano.” “Buy you a winter full of thunder storms—why you will bang me deaf.” “But not dumb, I’ll bet any thing—you will always be able to scold your poor Cousin Fanny. But I shall play when you are away.” “I rather think you will when you get a piano. Why do you know what a deal of money one of those thunderers costs?” Fanny began to be frightened. She did not know, but she was really like the child who cried for the moon. The tears came into her eyes as she thought of herself two years ago. She looked up at her cousin, with her grateful soul beaming from her beautiful eyes, and smiling through her tears, she said, “Cousin, I was very wrong to ask such an impossible thing—will you buy me a canary-bird?” “Do you give up all claim to the piano if I do?” “O, yes, to be sure. Please to forget it. Indeed, I did not mean to be a silly girl.”