"I hope you will not be offended, Mrs. Bruce, but I've brought you some very nice tea and coffee that papa has just received from Boston; there is some white sugar, and some rice, too. I hardly knew how to bring it, for you are not like the other people that live in the cottages round here; but I hope that you will not be hurt at me; we have so much, and I know that you have so little." Mrs. Bruce dropped her head lower down to hide the tears that would start as she replied, "We Scotch people have a great horror, my dear, of receiving anything but what we work for; but I'll take the little gift to please you, Miss Madeline." "I am so glad, for I was so afraid that I was not doing exactly what would please you, that I really trembled when I got to the door. I don't know how it is, but from the first day that I saw Roland on the shore, I knew that he was not a common boy." Hanging between the windows was a small portrait of a venerable man. "Whose likeness is that, Mrs. Bruce?" asked the child. "That is my father's picture. He was the minister of the parish where we lived. He was a good man, Miss Madeline, but he is now among the spirits of the just made perfect." "How is it, Mrs. Bruce, that you and Roland seem to think so much of the world to come? I never used to hear anybody talk about it until I met you." "Why, my dear child, what should I do with all my cares and sorrows, if I had no hope of a better life than this?" "I don't want any better world, Mrs. Bruce. I have everything that I wish, and more too. This world is very beautiful to me; I should not like to leave it and go down into the dark grave." "That is the natural feeling of a young heart, Miss Madeline, but the day will come when you cannot live without such a hope." "I don't have many cares, Mrs. Bruce," said Maddy, with a mischievous twinkle of her eye. "I am puzzled a little about the pattern of my doll's bonnet, but the greatest trouble just now is, that papa has brought down a French governess to teach me French and music. That is not very pleasant, for it takes so much of my time out of school that I get tired to death." "You ought to be very thankful, Miss Madeline, to your father for all his kindness and care. I hope that you will improve your time diligently." "You ought just to see Mademoiselle Fouladoux; she is such a queer little person. I tell you that I have fun with her; she speaks broken English, and makes such odd faces when she talks. She has a little lap-dog named Fanfan; she makes as much fuss with her as if she were a child--nasty, cross little thing it is! She must have sponge-cake and cream twice a day. I tell you, Mrs. Bruce, our cook gets mad enough. I wish the little cur was in the ocean. What do you think? she sleeps in the bed with Mademoiselle! Just think of that! a dog in the same bed with a lady!" and Madeline threw herself back, and laughed heartily at the thought.