and on
going close to the gate, Mary found there was a smaller one by its side,
and as this happened to be open, she passed through it into the public
road.

She felt so glad to be in the road that she began to jump about and to
clap her little hands. And yet she did not know why she should be glad,
for the park was a far nicer place after all. Still she did feel
pleased, and without thinking where she was going, or whether Sister
Agatha would like her to go or not, Mary began to scamper away from the
house.

The sun felt very hot, and Mary soon became breathless, so she stopped
just where the road bent round towards the railway station and sat down
by a high, green, flowery bank.

It really seemed very nice sitting there in the brilliant sunshine, and
she leaned back until her head touched the green bank. Presently Mary
closed her eyes, and though she opened them once or twice it was not
long before she fell fast asleep. She did not know how much later it was
when she awoke in a great fright, for she dreamed she heard Mrs.
Coppert's voice, heard it quite distinctly, as if it were only a few
yards from her ears. Of course it was a dream! Mary told herself that
before she had time to open her eyes; but when she did open them she
looked up and saw Mrs. Coppert in the road, staring down at her.

Nobody was in sight--nobody but Mrs. Coppert! Mrs. Coppert was a fat
woman and tall; she had a large, shiny, red face, and great arms and
hands under her cloak, and a bright blue feather in her bonnet. She was
not a nice-looking person at all, and she spoke as if she were going to
cry. But Mary had never seen her cry, though she had seen her make
children cry very often.

'Dear me!' exclaimed Mrs. Coppert, 'if it isn't little Mary Brown! So
smart, too,' she said, leaning forward and taking Mary's skirt between
her fingers. 'And to think of those other poor children at home. They
don't wear such fine dresses, and you haven't even asked how they are!'

'How are they?' whispered Mary, feeling very frightened.

'Haven't they got names of their own?' asked Mrs. Coppert.

'How are Sally and 'Liza and Tubby?' said Mary, knowing it was always
the best to obey Mrs. Coppert.

'So happy, you'd never believe it,' was the answer. 'Troublesome, I must
say; but that's overfeeding. I always did overfeed my children. And
they're quite longing to see Mary Brown again, and so they shall, bless
'em!'

Mary still sat on the grass with her