parties as she had done in frocks "full of lace." But she was not there
any more.

"You needn't expect to see him, because ten to one you won't," said Mrs.
Medlock. "And you mustn't expect that there will be people to talk to
you. You'll have to play about and look after yourself. You'll be told
what rooms you can go into and what rooms you're to keep out of. There's
gardens enough. But when you're in the house don't go wandering and
poking about. Mr. Craven won't have it."

"I shall not want to go poking about," said sour little Mary; and just
as suddenly as she had begun to be rather sorry for Mr. Archibald Craven
she began to cease to be sorry and to think he was unpleasant enough to
deserve all that had happened to him.

And she turned her face toward the streaming panes of the window of the
railway carriage and gazed out at the gray rain-storm which looked as if
it would go on forever and ever. She watched it so long and steadily
that the grayness grew heavier and heavier before her eyes and she fell
asleep.




CHAPTER III

ACROSS THE MOOR


She slept a long time, and when she awakened Mrs. Medlock had bought a