THE GIRL WHO COULD NOT WRITE. 67

“ Poppet,” said a bright, busy voice at this moment, “ just
run over to the freight depot and tell Carter to hurry up
those lounges. Be as quick as you can. I will wait on the
ladies.”

With that, Poppet jumped over the counter, and “the
firm” walked leisurely round behind it. She was a digni-
fied young lady, with freckles and red hair. “She seemed to
be very busy, and brought out her pretty stock of brackets
without any more than the busiest glance at her customers’
faces. But her customers gave many sharp glances at hers.

“Something so familiar to me about that young lady!”
mused the editor of the Early Visitor in an aside whisper.
At the door, with her bracket under her arm, she turned and
looked back, — but confusedly ; in the street she stopped to
examine the sign. It was a handsome new sign, and read

H. & J. JASPER.

Furniture.

 

“ Jasper — Jasper,” said the editor, thoughtfully. “Do
you remember that stupid little Miss Jasper you used to
have at school? That young lady reminds me of her amaz-
ingly. I wonder if it can be—I mean to ask at the hotel.”

“ Jemima Jasper—yes,”’ said the clerk of the hotel,
“that’s the name. Smart girl too. Very smart girl. Car-
ried on her father’s business after he died. Keeps the old