ame, but his skill could not save the poor idiot girl,
and at about four that afternoon she died. Around the bed of death
there were no tears or lamentations, for those who stood by and
watched the lamp of life as it went out, felt that the spirit which
was leaving them would be happier far in another world, for never in
this had a ray of reason shone upon poor Patsy's darkened mind. We
have said there were no tears, and yet, although the waters came not
to the surface, there was one heart which wept, as with unflinching
nerve the cold, stern woman arrayed the dead girl for the grave.

That night Mary was aroused from sleep, by some one whispering her
name in her ear, and starting up, she saw Sally bending over her.

"Come with me," said she softly, "and I'll show you the queerest sight
you ever saw."

Trembling in every joint, Mary arose and followed Sal, who led her
towards the room where Patsy lay. As she drew near the door they
paused, and by the light of the autumn moon, which streamed through
the curtained window Mary saw Miss Grundy kneeling by the cold body,
and sobbing bitterly. Once she spoke, and Mary caught the words, "My
child, my poor child."

Wonderingly she looked up to Sally for an explanation; but the crazy
woman only replied, as they returned to their rooms, "Yes,--there's
been queer doings some time or other, it's very evident; but I know
one thing, I'll never draw her profile again, and I'll call her _Mrs._
Grundy after this!"

It was hardly worth while, as the neighbors thought, to be at all the
trouble and expense of carrying a foolish girl without friends or
relatives to the graveyard, so they buried her beneath the shadow of a
wide-spreading maple, in a little inclosure where several other
unfortunate ones lay sleeping At the funeral many wondered at the
ghastly whiteness of Miss Grundy's face, and why she grasped at the
coffin lid, as if to keep from falling, when with others she gazed
upon the pale face which, in its dreamless slumber, looked calm and
placid as that of a child.

There were but few who knew of Miss Grundy's sin, and her secret was
buried in Patsy's grave, where often a mother's form was bending and a
mother's tears were shed, when the world was dark and still, and there
was no eye to see, save that of Him who said, "Go and sin no more."

CHAPTER X.

WINTER AT THE POOR-HOUSE.

One afternoon about the middle of October, Mary sat under an
apple-tree in the orch