AGNES. 25

“Oh, dear! if I were only a boy I could do so much,” said
Agnes, turning sorrowfully away.

She wandered to her favorite place on the great rock to
think over the matter. Never had a winter approached
with so many needs staring them in the face. Grandpa was
growing more feeble every day. Agnes thought of her
mother’s sad eyes and thin hands, she thought of Uncle ’Rius
growing old and yet so willing and helpful, “ when he ought to
be provided for,” she thought, “he and Aunt Pris have been
so faithful; that is the way it would have been if papa had
lived.” And the tears rolled down the child’s mournful little
face, till she started up and set forth to dig hopefully.

But the sun went down, and no trace of the buried
treasure was discovered, and Agnes went to bed weary and
disheartened. She did not sleep very soundly, and toward
midnight she awoke with the bright moon-beams streaming
in at the window. She though she heard a noise, and get-
ting up, she saw a figure in the moonlight, and heard the
sound of a pickaxe. Thud! thud! thud! “Uncle ’Rius is
digging,” she said. “Poor old Uncle ’Rius, and he must be
so tired!’

Slipping on her clothes ana wrapping a shawl around her,
she stole softly down-stairs, out the door, and ran, to where
Uncle ’Rius was at work.

He started when he saw her. “Law! baby,” he said,
“what is yo’ doin’ up dis time er night? Go back to bed,