That afternoon it was told at Terrace Hill that Mrs. Johnson was very sick, and half an hour later the Richards carriage, containing the doctor and his sister Anna, wound down the hill, and passing through the park, turned in the direction of the cottage, where they found Mrs. Johnson worse than they had anticipated. The sight of distress roused Anna at once, and forgetting her own feebleness she kindly offered to stay until night if she could be of any service. Mrs. Johnson was fond of Anna, and she expressed her pleasure so eagerly that Anna decided to remain, and went with Alice to remove her wrappings. “Oh, I forgot!” she exclaimed, as a sudden thought seemed to strike her. “I don’t know as I can stay after all, though I might write it here, I suppose, as well as at home; and as John is going to New York to-night he will take it along.” “What is it?” Alice asked; and Anna replied, “You’ll think me very foolish, no doubt; they all do, especially John, and have tried to laugh me out of it, but I have thought about it, and dreamed about it, until it is impressed upon me that I must do it, and I had decided to attend to it this very day, when we heard of your mother’s illness, and John persuaded me to come here with him, as he wished to say good-bye to you.” “I’ll get you writing materials if you like,” Alice said, “or you can go at once to the library. Your brother will wait, I am sure.” “Yes; but I want to know if you too think me foolish. I’m so dependent on others’ opinions;” and, in a low tone, Anna told how long she had been wanting some nice young person to be constantly with her as companion or waiting-maid, and of the advertisement seen early last winter, how queerly it was expressed, and how careless John had been in tearing off the name and address, with which to light his cigar. “It seems to me,” she continued, “that ‘unfortunate married woman’ is the very one I want. I cannot account for the interest I feel in her, and in spite of all my family can say, I’ve concluded to write, and let John take it to the _Herald_.” “Yes; but how will you find her? I understand that the address was burned,” Alice rejoined quickly, feeling herself that Anna was hardly sane in her calculations. “Oh, I’ve fixed that in the wording,” Anna answered. “I do not know as it will ever reach her, it’s been so long, but if it does, she’ll be sure to know I mean her, or somebody like her.” It was not at all clear to Alice, but she made no objections, and taking her silence as a tacit approval of her project, Anna followed her to the library. “I dislike writing very much,” she said, as she saw the array of materials, “and I write so illegibly too. Please do it for me, that’s a dear, good girl,” and she gave the pen to Alice, who wrote the first word, “Wanted,” and then waited for Anna to dictate.