she thought it would be real kind to go and tell her. Mrs. Mason has
poor health, and while we were there, she asked mother if she knew of
any good little girl she could get to come and live with her; 'one,'
she said, 'who could be quiet when her head ached, and who would read
to her and wait on her at other times.' Mother said she did not know
of any; but when Mrs. Mason went out to get tea, I followed and told
her of you, and the tears came into her eyes when I said your folks
were all dead, and you were alone and sorry. She said right off that
she would come round and see you soon, and if she liked you, you
should live with her. But I must run back, for I suppose you know
mother brought our governess with us, and it's time I was turning my
toes out and my elbows in. Ugh! how I do hate such works. If I ever
have a house, there shan't be a fashionable thing about it. I'll have
it full of cats, dogs, and poor children, with a swing and a
'_teater_' in every room, and Billy Bender shall live with me, and
drive the horses!"

So saying, she ran off; and Mary, having gathered her cowslips, sat
down to think of Mrs. Mason, and wonder if she should ever see her.
Since Alice's death she had been in the daily habit of learning a
short lesson, which she recited to Sally, and this afternoon, when the
dishes were all washed, she had as usual stolen away to her books. She
had not been long occupied, ere Rind called her, saying Mr. Knight,
who, it will be remembered, had brought her to the poor-house, was
down stairs and wanted to see her, and that there was a lady with him,
too.

Mary readily guessed that the lady must be Mrs. Mason and carefully
brushing her hair, and tying on a clean apron, she descended to the
kitchen, where she was met by Mr. Knight, who called out, "Hallo, my