places in the world? And how could you leave me without a word?" the
vicar's wife said, with her lips against Mary's cheek. She had already
perceived, without dwelling upon it, the excitement in which all the
party were. This was said while the vicar was still making his bow to his
new parishioner, who knew very well that her visitors had not intended to
call; for the Turners were dissenters, to crown all their misdemeanors,
beside being city people and _nouveaux riches_.

"Don't ask me any questions just now," said Mary, clasping almost
hysterically her friend's hand.

"It was providential. Come and hear what the child has seen." Mrs.
Turner, though she was so anxious, was too polite not to make a fuss
about getting chairs for all her visitors. She postponed her own trouble
to this necessity, and trembling, sought the most comfortable seat for
Mrs. Bowyer, the largest and most imposing for the vicar himself. When
she had established them in a little circle, and done her best to draw
Mary, too, into a chair, she sat down quietly, her mind divided between
the cares of courtesy and the alarms of an anxious mother. Mary stood at
the table and waited till the commotion was over. The new-comers thought
she was going to explain her conduct in leaving them; and Mrs. Bowyer, at
least, who was critical in point of manners, shivered a little, wondering
if perhaps (though she could not find it in her heart to blame Mary) her
proceedings were in perfect taste.

"The little girl," Mary said, beginning abruptly. She had been standing
by the table, her lips apart, her countenance utterly pale, her mind
evidently too much absorbed to notice anything. "The little girl has seen
several times a lady going up-stairs. Once she met her and saw her
face, and the lady smiled at her; but her face was sorrowful, and the