In one of our New England towns there lived a little girl whom we will call Minnie. She was left an orphan in earliest infancy. In process of time the babe found a welcome in the home of a farmer in a neighboring town. Into his family she was soon afterward adopted, and there she was loved and cared for as one of their own.
Four years passed, and found her a bright, wideawake little girl, enlivening all around with her joyous innocence and wit. She showed a special fondness for the farmer, going with him about his daily chores, until she was just as familiar with his routine of labor, about the home and its belongings, as the regular farm-help. If he wanted his tools in a hurry, and they were not in their proper place, an appeal to Minnie seldom failed of bringing them to hand. For a time this was a delight to her, until the calls became very numerous. Then her patience gave out, and she was heard to exclaim: "He has got to learn to find tools himself! Come Pap," as she sometimes would call him, for short, "get the hoe. See, here it is now, right in its place; and there is the shovel and rake, where they belong. A place for everything, you know! Mamma read to us last night about the golden minutes wasted in hunting up things that are out of place. Ain't tools things, Papa?"
" Well, yes, I s'pose so; but what 's the odds, so long 's you can get 'em for me, Minnie?"
