There was no looking-glass in Mary's room, and she stepped before the
one in the kitchen while she adjusted her hat, but her courage almost
failed her as she saw the queer-looking image reflected by the mirror.
She was unusually thin, and it seemed to her that her teeth were
never so prominent before. Her eyes, always large, now looked
unnaturally so and as she placed what Sal had termed a "tea-kettle"
upon her head, she half determined not to go. But Sal caught her hand,
saying, "Come, child, it's time we were off. They'll all know it's
Mrs. Campbell's old bonnet, and will laugh at her for giving it to
you."

Billy had not come, but the pleasant-looking woman had succeeded in
making friends with Alice, and as Mary passed out of the yard she saw
her little sister spatting the window sill, and apparently well
pleased with her new nurse. Scarcely were they out of sight of the
house, when Sal, seating herself upon a large stone, commenced
divesting her feet of her shoes and stockings.

"What are you doing?" asked Mary, in great surprise.

"I guess I know better than to wear out my kid slippers when I've got
no Willie's father to buy me any more," answered Sal. "I'm going
barefoot until I reach the river bridge, and then I shall put them on
again."

The shoes and stockings being carefully rolled up in a paper which Sal
produced from her pocket, they walked briskly forward, and reached the
village some time before the first bell rang for church.

"Come down this street, please," said Mary to her companion, who with