Those remind me of
happy days, Alice.
"I had plenty then: a good husband, a happy home, and never thought that
I should come to poverty."
"What is this from?" asked Alice, touching the silk lining at the
bottom of the box.
"O that was always in the box, Alice. It was there when my husband
received it, and must be a piece of India silk.
"Is any thing the matter with it?" continued Mrs. Reed, as she noticed
Alice picking at one corner of it.
"O nothing is the matter," replied Alice; "it only seemed to me to be a
little loose."
"Let me look," said Mrs. Reed. "I don't think it can be loose, or I
should have seen it when I was lining the box."
"It is actually quite loose," said Alice, as she examined it further,
and picked up one corner with, a pin; "and here is a little piece of
paper underneath it."
"That is remarkable," said Mrs. Reed, as she put on her spectacles and
drew up her chair a little closer to Alice.
"And there is some writing on it too," said Alice, as she drew it from
its hiding-place and handed it to Mrs. Reed.
"Why, it's my husband's writing!" exclaimed Mrs. Reed, as she closely
examined the faded letters.
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