"In the way that went against him, I suppose," answered Calista, shrewdly. "I have noticed people seldom do. But I wanted to ask you about the Sunday-school, Miss Druett. Mr. Alger wishes me to take a class of little colored girls." "Well, I have no objections, if it does not tire you too much. You will learn more than you will teach for a time, but that won't hurt you or your scholars either." "Mr. Alger asked me if you would teach a class." "I would if I were able. I used to teach a Sunday-class years ago, in Philadelphia, and liked it very much." "And don't you feel able?" "No, child. Oh, I am not sick; you need not open your eyes so wide, and look so alarmed! But it tires me to talk much lately, and I shall have to be a little more careful of my health than I have been. I am beginning to find out that I have bones and nerves to ache and keep me awake nights, as well as other people. But as to yourself, I think the teaching will be very good for you. You will never find out how much you don't know till you try to tell what you do know." "I have found that out already, helping Miss Meeks. But I do wish you would have a doctor, Miss Druett." "Nonsense, child! I am not sick; what should I want a doctor for?" The next day Calista had been out in the pasture hunting mushrooms, and coming back across the little burying-ground as the nearest way, she stopped to pull some tall weeds from her grandfather's grave. As she did so, she saw that the long grass had been disturbed and a little earth scattered about. "Oh ho, Mr. Ground-squirrel, are you here!" said she. "I think you might find a better place." As she moved away the long grass with her foot, she caught sight of something glittering. She bent down and drew it out. It was a long purse, such as people used in those days, and are beginning to use again, and well filled with coin and bills. She knew it in a moment—her aunt Priscilla's purse. How in the world did it come there? She did not stop to think, but hurried home and went straight to the sitting-room, mushrooms and all. Miss Priscilla was nodding over her book, Miss Druett sewing, as usual. "Aunt Priscilla, have you lost anything?" said she. Miss Priscilla started, put her hand in her pocket mechanically, and turned pale as ashes. "My purse!" said she, in a kind of shrill whisper. "Where is my purse?" "When did you have it last?" asked Miss Druett. "Last night, at the back kitchen door. Oh, what shall I do? Who has taken it?" "Here it is," said Calista, producing it. "Now, where do you guess I found it?" "Out by the door," said Miss Druett. "Not a bit. You are not even warm." "Then you must tell us." "That I will, for I am sure you will never guess." And Calista told where she had discovered the purse. Miss Priscilla looked more scared than ever. "You—you don't suppose he came and got it, do you, Druey?"