en on the town?"

Mrs. Lincoln, too, and Rose were greatly provoked, the former
declaring she would not send her daughters to a school which was so
cheap that paupers and all could go, were it not that Lizzie Upton had
been there, and Ida Selden was going. Jenny, however, thought
differently. She was delighted, and as often as she possibly could,
she came to Mrs. Mason's to talk the matter over, and tell what good
times they'd have, "provided they didn't set her to pounding clothes,"
which she presumed they would, just because she was so fat and
healthy. The widow assumed a very resigned air, saying "She never did
meddle with other folks' business, and she guessed she shouldn't begin
by 'tendin' to Mary's, but 'twas a miracle where all the money came
from."

A few more of the neighbors felt worried and troubled but as no
attention was paid to their remarks, they gradually ceased, and by the
time Mary's preparations were completed, curiosity and gossip seemed
to have subsided altogether. She was quite a favorite in the
neighborhood, and on the morning when she left home, there was many a
kind good-bye, and word of love spoken to her by those who came to see
her off. Mr. Knight carried her to the depot, where they found Sally
Furbush, accompanied by Tasso, her constant attendant. She knew that
Mary was to leave that morning, and had walked all that distance, for
the sake of seeing her, and giving her a little parting advice. It was
not quite time for the cars, and Mr. Knight, who was always in a
hurry, said "he guessed he wouldn't stay," so squeezing both of Mary's
hands, he bade her good-bye, telling her "to be a good girl, and not
get to running after the sparks."

Scarcely was he gone, when Mary's attention was attracted by the sound
of many voices, and looking from the window, she saw a group of the
city girls advancing towards the depot. Among them was Ella, talking
and laughing very loudly Mary's heart beat very rapidly, for she
thought her sister was coming to bid her good-bye, but she was
mistaken. Ella had no thought or care for her, and after glancing in
at the sitting-room, without seeming to see its inmates, though not to
see them was impossible, she turned her back, and looking across the
river, which was directly in front, she said in her most drawling
tone, "Why don't Rose come? I shan't have time to see her at all, I'm
afraid."

Lizzie Upton, who was also there, looked at her in astonishment, and
the