"I know that it is not yours, Lena, nor mine!" said Mary, steadily.
"But I'll tell you what you might do; go straight to Mr. Gordon, and
tell him about the pretty waist,--very likely it got in by mistake,
--tell him it is no good for rags, and ask if you may have it. Like
as not he'll let you have it; and if not, you will find out what his
reason is. I think we ought to suppose he has some reason for what
he does."

Lena laughed spitefully.

"Like as not he's going to take it home to his own girl!" she said.
"I saw her in the street the other day, and I wouldn't have been
seen dead with the hat she had on; not a flower, nor even a scrap of
a feather; just a plain band and a goose-quill stuck in it. Real
poorhouse, I thought it looked, and he as rich as a Jew. I guess I
sha'n't go to Mr. Gordon; he's just as hateful as he can be. He gave
out word that no one was to touch that bag, nor so much as go near it;
and he had it set off in a corner of the outer shed, close by the
chloride barrels, so that everything in it will smell like poison.
If that isn't mean, I don't know what is.

"Well, I can't stay here all day, Mame. Aren't you coming?"

"Pretty soon!" said Mary. "Don't wait for me, Lena! I want to finish
this stint, so as to have the afternoon off. Mother's poorly to-day,
and I want to cook something nice for her supper."

Lena nodded and went out, shutting the door with a defiant swing.
Mary looked after her doubtfully, as if hesitating whether she ought