y felt almost as much like weeping as she did on the night of
her arrival at the poor-house. But Mrs. Mason seemed to know exactly
how to entertain her; and by the time that first tea was over, there
was hardly a happier child in the world than was Mary.

As soon as Mrs. Mason arose from the table, she, too, sprang up, and
taking hold of the dishes, removed them to the kitchen in a much
shorter space of time than was usually occupied by Judith. "Git away
now," said that lady as she saw Mary making preparations to wash the
cups and saucers. "I never want any body putterin' round under my
feet. I always wash and wipe and scour my own things, and then I know
they are done."

Accordingly, she returned to Mrs. Mason, who, wishing to retire early,
soon dismissed her to her own room, where she for some time amused
herself with watching the daylight as it gradually disappeared from
the hills which lay beyond the pond. Then when it all was gone, and
the stars began to come out, she turned her eyes towards one, which
had always seemed to her to be her mother's soul, looking down upon
her from the windows of heaven. Now, to-night there shone beside it a
smaller, feebler one, and in the fleecy cloud which floated around it,
she fancied she could define the face of her baby sister.
Involuntarily stretching out her hands, she cried, "Oh, mother, Allie,
I am so happy now;" and to the child's imagination the stars smiled
lovingly upon her, while the evening wind, as it gently moved the
boughs of the tall elm trees, seemed like the rustle of angels' wings.
Who shall say the mother's spirit was not there to rejoice with her
daughter over the glad future opening so brightly before her?

CHAPTER XIV.

VISITORS.

The Tuesday following Mary's arrival at Mrs. Mason's, there was a
social gathering at the house of Mr. Knight. This gathering could
hardly be called a tea party, but came more directly under the head of
an "afternoon's visit," for by two o'clock every guest had arrived,
and the "north room" was filled with ladies, whose tongues, like their
hands, were in full play. Leathern reticules, delicate embroidery, and
gold thimbles were not then in vogue in Rice Corner; but on the
contrary, some of Mrs. Knight's visitors brought with them large,
old-fashioned work-bags, from which the ends of the polished
knitting-needles were discernible; while another apologized for the
magnitude of her work, saying that "her man had fretted