servants' door.

It was pleasant, too, to watch Mrs. Brooks's happy face, half hidden in
the hood of her water-proof cloak, which kept puffing out, in the high
wind, like a sail. She was going home to tell her husband the Lord had
heard her prayers, and she had found a friend.

"And you may depend I never talked so easy to anybody in my life, pa;"
this was what she thought she should say. "I didn't _have_ to beg. Mrs.
Allen is one of the Lord's own; I saw it the minute I clapped my eyes
on her face."

"I am going to see that woman to-morrow, and ask some questions about
her blind daughter," said Aunt Madge, turning away from the window.

"Ask 'bout her nose, too."

"Whose nose, Fly?"

"The woman's. It keeps a-moving when she talks."

"There, who else noticed that?" exclaimed Horace, tossing his young
sister aloft. "It takes Fly, with her little eye, to see things."

"But I didn't ask her nuffin 'bout it, though, Horace Clifford. God made
her so, with a wire in."

Everybody smiled at the notion of Mrs. Brooks being a wax doll.

"What a queer day it has been!" said Prudy. "Nothing but hide and seek.