Mary chose to obey Mrs. Grundy, who wiped the crumbs of curd and drops
of whey from her arms and took the cup, saying, "More milk? Seems to
me she eats a cart load! I wonder where the butter's to come from, if
we dip into the cream this way."

Had Mary been a little older, she might have doubted whether the blue
looking stuff Mrs. Grundy poured into her cup ever saw any cream, but
she was only too thankful to get it on any terms, and hurried with it
back to her room. About noon the clouds broke away, while here and
there a patch of bright blue sky was to be seen. But the roads were so
muddy that Mary had no hope of Billy's coming, and this it was,
perhaps, which made the dinner dishes so hard to wash, and which made
her cry when told that all the knives and forks must be scoured, the
tea-kettle wiped, and set with its nose to the north, in what Mrs.
Grundy called the "Pout Hole," and which proved to be a place under
the stairs, where pots, kettles and iron ware generally were kept.

All things have an end, and so did the scouring, in spite of Mary's
fears to the contrary, and then watching a time when Mrs. Grundy did
not see her, she stole away up stairs. Taking Alice on her lap she sat
down by the open window where the damp air cooled and moistened her
flushed face. The rain was over, and across the meadow the sun was
shining through the tall trees, making the drops of water which hung
upon the leaves sparkle and flash in the sunlight like so many tiny
rainbows. Mary watched them for a time, and then looking upward at
the thin white clouds which chased each other so rapidly across the
blue sky, wondered if her mother's home were there, and if she ever
thought of her children, so sad and lonely without her.

A movement of Alice aroused her from her reverie, and looking into the