A Modern Cinderella

A MODERN CINDERELLA
OR,
THE LITTLE OLD SHOE

HOW IT WAS LOST
Among green New England hills stood an
ancient house, many-gabled, mossy-roofed, and
quaintly built, but picturesque and pleasant to the
eye; for a brook ran babbling through the orchard
that encompassed it about, a garden-plat stretched
upward to the whispering birches on the slope, and
patriarchal elms stood sentinel upon the lawn, as
they had stood almost a century ago, when the
Revoiution rolled that way and found them young.

One summer morning, when the air was full of
country sounds, of mowers in the meadow, black-
birds by the brook, and the low of kine upon the
hill-side, the old house wore its cheeriest aspect,
and a certain humble history began.

"Nan!"

"Yes, Di."

And a head, brown-locked, blue-eyed, soft-
featured, looked in at the open door in answer
to the call.

Just bring me the third volume of 'Wilhelm
Meister,' there's a dear. It's hardly worth while
to rouse such a restless ghost as I, when I'm
once fairly laid."

As she spoke, Di PUlled up her black braids,
thumped the pillow of the couch where she was
lying, and with eager eyes went down the last
page of her book.

"Nan!"

"Yes, Laura," replied the girl, coming back
with the third volume for the literay cormorant,
who took it with a nod, still too content upon
the "Confessions of a Fair Saint" to remember
the failings of a certain plain sinner.

"Don't forget the Italian cream for dinner. I
depend upon it; for it's the only thing fit for me
this hot weather."

And Laura, the cool blonde, disposed the folds
of her white gown more gracefully about her, and
touched up the eyebrow of the Minerva she was
drawing.

"Little daughter!"

"Yes, father."

"Let me have plenty of clean collars in my
bag, for I must go at once; and some of you bring
me a glass of cider in about an hour;--I shall be
in the lower garden."

The old man went away into his imaginary
paradise, and Nan into that domestic purgatory
on a summer day, -- the kitchen. There were
vines about the windows, sunshine on the floor,
and order everywhere; but it was haunted by a
cooking-stove, that family altar whence such varied
incense rises to appease the appetite of household
gods, before which such dire incantations are
pronounced to ease the wrath and woe of the priestess
of the fire, and about which often linger saddest
memories of wasted temper, time, and toil.

Nan was tired, having risen with the birds,--
hurried, having many cares