Would you like to hear the rest about the breastpin? Well, I will tell you. Annie chose the one with the great red stone in the middle and ten white ones all round it; and I went the very next day to the jeweller in New York, and said:
"See here, Mr. Jeweller, here are all your breastpins, and I am very much obliged to you; but I want you to _give_ me one, for a darling."
"What kind of a darling, Mrs. Aunt Fanny?"
"Well, she is four years old, and has rosy cheeks, dark brown hair, large blue eyes, and a little dimpling, dainty mouth, full of small white pearls. They are not set in gold, like the pearls in your glass case. No, indeed! they grew fast in her dear little head; and she eats bread and milk with them.
"But let me tell you, Mr. Jeweller, that she has something far more precious than what I have been relating. Shut up in her innocent breast is a beautiful heart, which is full of love to all around her; and it gently whispers to her, 'Ilken Annie, be obedient to your parents, kind to everybody, and faithful in praying night and morning, to the dear Saviour, to watch over and protect His little lamb, and all she loves.' Oh, Mr. Jeweller, you cannot find such a precious jewel as ilken Annie's heart, in all your store."
Something came into the good jeweller's eyes, and fell upon his cheeks. They were two bright tears; and he softly said, "No; I have no such treasures here, and none now in my home; for, not long ago, God took my one little white lamb, my wee darling. She has gone to heaven, and my house is empty."
I felt very, very sorry for him--but I could not speak. He wrapped up the breastpin in a piece of paper, and gave it to me for Annie; and I sent it to her with this fine poetry:
My dear "ilken" Annie, Your loving Aunt Fanny Has got this fine breastpin On purpose for you; So that, when in town, With your new hat and gown, And this red and white breastpin, You'll be quite a view.
Then the girls and the boys Will make a great noise, And cry, "Goody gracious! _What_ a breastpin! just see! 'Tis the color of roses! And real, I supposes; I wish your Aunt Fanny Would buy one for _me_."
Then you'll say, "But she can't, For she isn't _your_ aunt, But _my_ little auntie That lives down the lane; And I'm ilken Annie, So winsome and cannie, With my 'hankfun' and 'too bad!' 'And try, try again.'
