“Yes, Mrs. Johnson does look very young, and Alice seems like a child, though I heard her say she was almost twenty. Such beautiful hair as she has. It used to be a bright yellow, or golden, so the old nurse says, but now it has a darker, richer shade, midway between golden and chestnut, while her eyes are the softest, handsomest blue.” Alice Johnson was evidently a favorite at Terrace Hill, and as this stamped her somebody John began to ask who the Johnsons were, and where they came from. Mrs. Richard seemed disposed to answer these questions, which she did as follows: “Mrs. Johnson used to live in Boston, and her husband was grandson of old Governor Johnson, one of the best families in that State.” “Ah, yes,” and John began to laugh. “I see now what gives Miss Alice’s hair that peculiar shade, and her eyes that heavenly blue, over which my staid sister Dora waxed so eloquent. Miss Alice is an ex-Governor’s great grand daughter—but go on, mother, only come to Alice herself and give her _figure_ as soon as may be.” “What do you mean?” asked Anna, who took things literally. “I should suppose you’d care more for her face than her form.” John smiled mischievously, while his mother continued. “I fancy that Mrs. Johnson’s family met with a reverse of fortune before her marriage, but know nothing certainly except that she was greatly beloved in Boston. Her husband has been dead some years, and recently she has bought and fitted up that pretty cottage down by the river. I do not see her as often as I would like to, for I am greatly pleased with her, although she has some habits of which I cannot approve, such as associating with the poor of the town to the extent she does. Why, I hear that Alice had a party the other day consisting wholly of ragged urchins.” “They were her Sunday school scholars,” interposed Anna. “Alice has picked up a large class of children, who before her coming, used to run the streets on Sundays breaking up birds’ nests and pilfering gardens. I am sure we ought to be much obliged to her, for our fruit and flowers are now comparatively safe.” “I vote that Anna goes on with Alice’s history. She gives it best,” said John, and so Anna continued, “There is but little to tell. Mrs. Johnson and her daughter are both nice ladies, and I am sure you will like them—every body does; and rumor has already given Alice to our young clergyman, Mr. Howard.” “And she is worth fifty thousand dollars, too,” rejoined Asenath, as if that were a powerful reason why a poor clergyman should not aspire to her hand. “I have her _figure_ at last,” said John, winking slily at Anna, who only looked bewildered. And, the $50,000 did seem to make an impression on the young man, who made numerous inquiries concerning the heiress, asking how often she came to Terrace Hill, and where he would be most likely to see her. “At church,” was Anna’s reply. “She is always there and their pew joins ours.”