everywhere.

"Did you go to Westminster Abbey?" I asked, going on with the
conversation childishly. "And did you see where Queen Elizabeth and
Mary Queen of Scots are buried? Mamma had told me all about them."

"Buried, did you say? Are they dead too?" asked Madam eagerly. "Yes,
indeed!" said I: "they have been dead a long time."--"Ah! I had
forgotten," answered my strange companion. "Do you know of any one
else who has died beside them? I have not heard of any one's dying and
going home for so long! Once every one died but me--except some young
people; and I do not know them."--"Why, every one must die," said I
wonderingly. "There is a funeral somewhere every day, I
suppose."--"Every one but me," Madam repeated sadly,--"every one but
me, and I am alone."

Just now cousin Agnes came to the door, and called me. "Go in now,
child," said Lady Ferry. "You may come and sit with me to-morrow if
you choose." And I said good-night, while she turned, and went down
the walk with feeble, lingering steps. She paced to and fro, as I
often saw her afterwards, on the flagstones: and some bats flew that
way like ragged bits of darkness, holding somehow a spark of life. I
watched her for a minute: she was like a ghost, I thought but not a
fearful ghost,--poor Lady Ferry!

"Have you had a pleasant walk?" asked cousin Matthew politely.
"To-morrow I will give you a border for your own, and some plants for
it, if you like gardening." I joyfully answered that I should like it
very much, and so I began to feel already the pleasure of being in a
real home, after the wandering life to which I had become used. I went
close to cousin Agnes's chair to tell her confidentially that I had
been walking with Madam in the garden, and she was very good to me, and
asked me to come to sit with her the next day: but she said very odd
things.

"You must not mind what she says," said cousin Agnes; "and I would
never dispute with her, or even seem surprised, if I were you. It
hurts and annoys her, and she soon forgets her strange fancies. I
think you seem a very sensible little girl, and I have told you about
this poor friend of ours as if you were older. But you understand do
you not?" And then she kissed me good-night, and I went up stairs,
contented with her assurance that she would come to me before I went to
sleep.

I found a pleasant-faced young girl busy putting away some of my
clothing. I had seen her just after supper, and