neck under the close-pinned kerchief, and
guessed the guilty secret of hidden finery which
it held, and which gave the lie to the profes-
sion of a renounced vanity which her garb
suggested.

If any one was responsible for Dolly Payne's
lapse from the severe simplicity of the sect of
Friends in after years, it must have been the
worldly-minded grandmother who, in this early
time, supplied the bits of jewelry worn thus
under the rose of Dolly's blushes.

The sins of vanity and secretiveness met with
the retribution which such wickedness merited,
and on one of these fine summer days, after
a woodland wandering, the chain and bag and
finery were all missing, and the guilty little
heart was ready to burst with grief over the
loss of its treasures. There was one person at
least to whom the culprit could carry the story
of her affliction, -- one with ear always open and
heart always full of sympathy for the child who,
as a baby, had been laid in her arms and hushed
on her faithful black breast. This was "Mother
Amy," a typical southern "mammy," whose
turbaned head had nodded many a night from
dusk till dawn over little Dolly's cradle while
her soft negro-voice crooned lullabies. But
that was in the days of Dolly's babyhood;
years before she grew into a school-girl, indif-

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