"She is, indeed. I don't see how I could get along without her."

"You could not get along at all."

"Oh, yes, ma'am, I could. Some way would be provided for me," was
the confident reply.

I looked into the poor woman's face with wonder and admiration. So
patient, so trustful, and yet so very poor. The expression of her
countenance was beautiful in its calm religious hope, and it struck
me more than ever as familiar.

"Did I ever see you before, Mrs. Partridge?" I asked.

"Indeed, ma'am, I don't know. I am sure I have seen you somewhere.
No, now I recollect; it is your likeness to a young schoolmate that
makes your face so familiar. How much you do favour her, now I look
at you more closely."

"What was her name?" I asked.

"Her name was Flora S----."

"Indeed! Why, that was my name!"

"Your name! Did you go to Madame Martier's school?"

"I did."