fancied that she looked sad. Then after a time she saw her sit down
upon a log, looking very languid and weary. Mary had brought a bottle
of nice milk from home that morning, and the thought crossed her mind
that a draught of that milk might be refreshing to Emma; so she took a
bright little dipper from her basket, and ran off toward the wagon.

"Where are you going, Mary Palmer?" said Alice, whom she met on the
way.

"Miss Lindsay looks very pale and tired," said Mary. "I am going to
carry her some of my nice milk."

"I would do no such thing," said Alice; "she is used to having a host
of servants at her heels, and thinks that we country girls will act as
her lackies. If she wants refreshment, tell her where it is, and let
her go for it herself."

"Why, Alice," replied Mary, "you told her this morning that you were
very glad to see her, and now you have no interest in making her either
comfortable or happy."

"To be sure," said Alice; "do you suppose that I was going to say, 'I
am not at all glad to see you, Miss Prim--I am mad enough with Henry
Boyd to pull his ears, because he went to your house for you?' You
would not have had me say so; but these were my feelings; so what am I
to do?"

"I know what _I_ would do," said Mary, firmly. "I would pray to God
until I had better feelings; so that I could say from my _heart_, I am
glad to see you."