river
outside; they rolled off it at once, and only the wonderful, wonderful
fact remained, that she was not Mary Vallance. Who was she, then? And,
above all, what could Rice have meant by "brown as a berry?" Who was
brown as a berry? Certainly not Mary herself; she was quite used to
hearing that she was "as white as snow" and "as fair as a lily"--it was
Agatha Chelwood who had a brown skin. Altogether it was very mysterious
and deeply interesting; soon she began to make up long stories about
herself, in which it was always discovered at last that she belonged to
very rich people with grand titles. This was what people had meant when
they whispered that she was "no common child." Mary's foolish head was
in a whirl of excitement, and filled from morning to night with visions
of grandeur. If the little clog could only have spoken! Mute, yet full
of expression it stood there, while Mary dreamed in her little white bed
of palaces and princesses.

"I was not made," it would have said, "for foot of princess or lady, or
to tread on soft carpets and take dainty steps; I am a hardworking shoe
made by rough hands, though the heart they belonged to was kind and
gentle; I have nothing to do with luxury and idleness."

But no one understood this silent language. The clog was admired, and
wondered at, and called "a quaint little shoe," and its history remained
unknown.

Mary longed now to tell Jackie her mighty secret, which began to weigh
too heavily to keep to herself; but when he did come to the vicarage
again, he was not nearly so much impressed by it as she had hoped. This
was partly, perhaps, because his mind was full of a certain project
which he wished her to join, and she had scarcely bound him by a solemn
promise not to breathe a word to the other children of what she had told
him, than he began eagerly:

"We're going to spend the day at Maskells to-morrow--the _whole_ day.
Will Mrs Vallance let you go too?"

"Come and ask her," said Mary; and Jackie, rather breathless, for he had
run the whole way from the White House, proceeded with his request:

"The donkey-cart's going," he said, "and the three little ones, and
Rice, and Fraulein, and all of us, and we're going quite early because
it's so hot, and we shall stop to tea, and make a fire, of course, and
mother hopes you'll let Mary go."

"Well, I can't say no," said Mrs Vallance, smiling at Jackie's heated
face; "but I'm not very fond of Maskells, there