An old Scotch servant, who had been in the family for years, came into the library where Alice was sitting, and after warmly welcoming her bonny mistress, told her tea was waiting in the little supper room, where the table was laid with the prettiest of tea-cloths, and the solid silver contrasted so brightly with the pure white china. There were luscious strawberries, fresh from the vines, and sweet, thick cream from Hannah’s milk-house, and the nice hot tea-cakes which Alice loved, and her glass of water from her favorite spring under the rock, and Lucy stood and waited on her with as much deference as if she had been a queen. Alice was very tired, and soon after tea was over she asked permission to retire, and Nannie, her own waiting-maid, went with her up the broad staircase and through the upper hall to her room, which was over the library, and had, like that, a bay-window looking off into the distant valley. Nannie was all attention, but Alice did not want her that night. She would rather be alone; and she dismissed the girl, saying to her with a smile, “I had no good Nannie at school to undress me and put up my things. We had to wait on ourselves; so you see I have become quite a little woman, and shall often dispense with your services.” With her door shut on Nannie, Alice went straight to her window, through which the moonlight was streaming, and kneeling down with her head upon the sill, she prayed earnestly for grace to bear the loneliness and desolation weighing so heavily on her spirits. Although a child in years, Alice Grey had long since learned at whose feet to lay her burdens. Her religion was a part of her whole being, and she made it very beautiful with her loving, consistent life. Her school companions had dubbed her the little “Puritan,” and sometimes laughed at her for what they called her straight-laced notions; but there was not one of them who did not love the gentle Alice Grey, or who would not have trusted her implicitly, and stood by her against the entire school. Alice knew that she was apt to murmur too much at the darkness overshadowing her home, and to forget the many blessings which crowned her life, and she now asked forgiveness for it, and prayed for a spirit of thankfulness for all the good Heaven had bestowed upon her. And then she asked that, if possible, the shadow might be lifted from the life of one who was at once a terror and an object of her deepest solicitude and love.