Hannah French. The two became fast friends. Hannah was an only child, pretty and delicate, and very much petted by her parents. No long hard tasks were set those soft little fingers, even in those old days when children worked as well as their elders. Ann admired and loved Hannah, because she had what she, herself, had not; and Hannah loved and pitied Ann because she had not what she had. It was a sweet little friendship, and would not have been, if Ann had not been free from envy and Hannah humble and pitying.
When Ann told her what a long stint she had to do before school, Hannah would shed sympathizing tears.
Ann, after a solemn promise of secrecy, told her about the indentures one day. Hannah listened with round, serious eyes; her brown hair was combed smoothly down over her ears. She was a veritable little Puritan damsel herself.
"If I could only get the papers, I wouldn't have to mind her, and work so hard," said Ann.
Hannah's eyes grew rounder. "Why, it would be sinful to take them!" said she.
