Miserableness.

What are you when you don't go to heaven?

But that's got nothing to do with how I found out who I am. It's like
Martha, though: always butting in with questions no Mary on earth could
answer.

Well, the way I found out was one of those mysterious ways in which God
works his wonders. Yesterday afternoon I asked Miss Bray if I could go
over and play with the Moon children, three of whom are sick, and she
said I might. We were in the nursery, which is next to Mrs. Moon's
bedroom, and she and the lady from Michigan, who is visiting her, were
talking and paying no attention to us. Presently something the lady
said--her name is Mrs. Grey--made everything in me stop working, and my
heart gave a little click like a clock when the pendulum don't swing
right.

She was sitting with her back to the door, which was open, and I could
see her, but she couldn't see me. All of a sudden she put down her
sewing and looked at Mrs. Moon as if something had just come to her.

"Elizabeth Moon, I believe I know that child's uncle," she said. "Ever
since you told me about her something has been bothering me. Didn't you
say her mother had a brother who years ago went West?"

"Hush," said Mrs. Moon, and she nodded toward me. "She'll hear you, and
the ladies wouldn't like it."

She lowered her voice so I couldn't hear all she said, but I heard