Mary presently made her appearance, and one quick glance told her that
something had gone wrong with her mistress.

"Bring me a pitcher of ice-water," curtly commanded Mrs. Montague. "And,
Mary--"

"Yes, marm."

"Did Miss Richards give you a torn picture the other day?"

"Yes, marm," answered the girl, flushing, "she said you wanted it
burned."

"Did you burn it?"

"N-o, marm, somehow I couldn't make up my mind to put it in the fire; it
was such a pretty face, and so like Miss Richards, and I've been wanting
a picture of her ever since she came here, only I thought maybe she'd
resent it if I asked her for one; and so I pasted it together as well as
I could, and tacked it up in my room," the girl explained, volubly, and
concluded by meekly adding: "I hope there was no harm in it, marm."

"You may bring it to me," was all the reply that Mrs. Montague vouchsafed
her attendant; and Mary, looking rather crestfallen, withdrew to obey the
command.

"It is a shame to burn it," she muttered, as she took down the defaced
picture, and slowly returned down stairs; "but I'm glad Miss Ruth gave it
to me before she asked for it."