Anne looked about her reverently, her eyes with tears.
It was for her one of the jeweled hours of life that gleam out radiantly forever in memory.
"Just to think of it--mother was younger than I am now when I was born," she whispered.
When Anne went downstairs the lady of the house met her in the hall.

She held out a dusty little packet tied with faded blue ribbon.
"Here's a bundle of old letters I found in that closet upstairs when I came here," she said.

"I dunno what they are--I never bothered to look in 'em, but the address on the top one is 'Miss Bertha Willis,' and that was your ma's maiden name.

You can take 'em if you'd keer to have 'em." "Oh, thank you--thank you," cried Anne, clasping the packet rapturously.
"That was all that was in the house," said her hostess.

"The furniture was all sold to pay the doctor bills, and Mrs.Thomas got your ma's clothes and little things.