"There will be Aunt Sarah and Uncle John at the Rectory," said Anna. "Aunt Sarah, of course, I know; but I've never seen Uncle John. He's father's brother, you know. Then there's Dornton; that's just a little town near. I don't know any one there, but I suppose Aunt Sarah does. Waverley's quite in the country, with a lovely garden--oh, I do so long to see it!" "You will make friends, too, of your own age, I daresay," said Miss Milverton. "Oh, I hope so," said Anna earnestly. "It has been so dull here sometimes! After you go away in the afternoon there's nothing to do, and when father dines out there's no one to talk to all the evening. You can't think how tired I get of reading." "Well, it will be more cheerful and amusing for you at Waverley, no doubt," said Miss Milverton, "and I hope you will be very happy there; but what I want to say to you is this: Try, whether you are at Waverley or wherever you are, to value the best things in yourself and others." Anna's bright eyes were gazing over the blind into the street, where a man with a basket of flowers on his head was crying, "All a-blowing and a-growing." In the country she would be able to pick flowers instead of buying them. She smiled at the thought, and said absently, "Yes, Miss Milverton." Miss Milverton's voice, which always had a regretful sound in it, went steadily on, while Anna's bright fancies danced about gaily. "It is so easy to value the wrong things most. They often look so attractive, and the best things lie so deeply hidden from us. And yet, to find them out and treasure them, and be true to them, makes the difference between a worthy and an unworthy life. If you look for them, my dear Anna, you will find them. My last wish before we part is, that you may be quick to see, and ready to do them honour, and to prize them as they should be prized. Bless you, my dear!" Miss Milverton had felt what she said so deeply, that the tears stood in her eyes, as she finished her speech and kissed her pupil for the last time. Anna returned the kiss affectionately, and as she followed her governess out into the hall and opened the door for her, she was quite sorry to think that she had so often been tiresome at her lessons. Perhaps she had helped to make Miss Milverton's face so grave and her voice so sad. Now she should not see her any more, and there was no chance of doing better.