at, when it touched her hand, she would
give a great jump and shriek out "Himmel!"

Mary's glance wandered further, but suddenly it stopped short, for at
last it was met and answered by another pair of eyes, dark and eager,
with such longing earnestness in their gaze, that she felt as though she
could not look away again. For a minute, which seemed a long, long
time, she stared fixedly at them, and then began to wonder who it was
that took so much interest in her. It was a tall woman of about thirty,
who sat among the servants from the White House; a stranger, with
nothing remarkable about her except the extreme plainness of her dress,
and a certain hungry expression in her eyes. "I wonder who she is,"
thought Mary, "and why she stares at me like that."

She turned her head away again, and five minutes afterwards the service
was over and the congregation clattering out of the church. As she
stood in the porch waiting for the Chelwood children the strange woman
came quickly up to her, and, bending down, said hurriedly:

"Might I ask, missie, what your name is?"

"My name's Mary Vallance," said Mary.

The woman shrank back, and the eager light died out of her eyes.

"Thank you, missie. I ask pardon," she murmured, and passing on went
quickly down the churchyard to the gate.

What an odd woman! When the children were all walking together towards
the vicarage they passed her, and Mary asked who she was.

"That?" said Agatha. "Oh, that's our new school-room maid."

"She only came yesterday," added Jennie. "She comes from Yorkshire.
And what do you think? When Patrick first heard she was coming he said
he was sure he shouldn't like her; and when Rice asked him why, he said,
`Because I hate Yorkshire pudding so.'"

"Well," said Patrick, "it's the only thing I know about Yorkshire."

"But you oughtn't to judge people by puddings," said Agatha reprovingly.

"Anyhow," returned Patrick, "she doesn't _look_ nice--there's such a
great big frown on her forehead. I expect she's cross."

"No, she's not cross," said Jackie, "she's sorry; mother told us all
about it. She lost her child a long while ago. That's what makes her
look grave. Mother says we ought to be very kind to her."

"Jennie and I shall have most to do with her," remarked the
matter-of-fact Agatha, "because she's going to brush our hair instead of
Rice."

They had now reached the vicarage gate, and Jackie lingered after the
rest to have a few