alternately fixed her hair, and smoothed her forehead until she fell
into a quiet slumber, from which she did not awake until Judith rang
the bell for supper, which was neatly laid out in a little dining
parlor, opening into the flower garden. There was something so very
social and cheering in the appearance of the room, and the arrangement
of the table, with its glossy white cloth, and dishes of the same hue,
that Mary felt almost as much like weeping as she did on the night of
her arrival at the poor-house. But Mrs. Mason seemed to know exactly
how to entertain her; and by the time that first tea was over, there
was hardly a happier child in the world than was Mary.

As soon as Mrs. Mason arose from the table, she, too, sprang up, and
taking hold of the dishes, removed them to the kitchen in a much
shorter space of time than was usually occupied by Judith. "Git away
now," said that lady as she saw Mary making preparations to wash the
cups and saucers. "I never want any body putterin' round under my
feet. I always wash and wipe and scour my own things, and then I know
they are done."

Accordingly, she returned to Mrs. Mason, who, wishing to retire early,
soon dismissed her to her own room, where she for some time amused
herself with watching the daylight as it gradually disappeared from
the hills which lay beyond the pond. Then when it all was gone, and
the stars began to come out, she turned her eyes towards one, which
had always seemed to her to be her mother's soul, looking down upon
her from the windows of heaven. Now, to-night there shone beside it a
smaller, feebler one, and in the fleecy cloud which floated around it,
she fancied she could define the face of her baby sister.
Involuntarily stretching out her hands, she cried, "Oh, mother, Allie,
I am so happy now;" and to the child's imagination the stars smiled