Instead, it seemed as if a small cyclone swept through the room. The wet
umbrella was sent flying across to Ethelinda's bed. Gloves, coat, and
handsome plumed hat followed, regardless of where they lit, or in what
condition. Half a dozen books went next, tumbling pell mell into a
corner. Then Ethelinda's bed-room slippers, over which Mary was always
stumbling, hurtled through the air, and an ivory hair-brush that had
been left on her dressing-table. They whizzed perilously near
Ethelinda's head.

"There!" exclaimed Mary, choking back the angry tremble in her voice.
"I'm worn out trying to keep this room in order for order's sake! The
next time I find your things on my side of the room I'll pitch them out
of the window! It's no excuse at all to say that you've always had
somebody to wait on you. You've always had your two hands, too. A
_lady_ is supposed to have some sense of her own obligations and of
other people's rights. Now don't you _dare_ get on my side again!"

With her knees trembling under her till she could scarcely move, Mary
ran out of the room, so frightened by what she had done that she did not
venture back till bedtime. Ethelinda refused to speak to her for several
days, but the outburst of temper had two good results. One was that
there was no need for its repetition, and Ethelinda treated her with
more respect from then on.

It had come to her with a shock, that Mary was looking down on _her_,
Ethelinda Hurst, pitying her for some things and despising her for
others; and though she shrugged her shoulders at first and was angry at
the thought, she found herself many a time trying to measure up to
Mary's standards. She couldn't bear for those keen gray eyes to look her
through, as if they were weighing her in the balance and finding her