ind a good seat in the next one."

The train was already in motion, and as Mary did not care to peril her
life or limbs for the sake of pleasing Rose, she followed her into the
car, where there was a goodly number of unoccupied seats,
notwithstanding Rose's assertion to the contrary. As the train moved
rapidly over the long, level meadow, and passed the Chicopee
burying-ground, Mary looked out to catch a glimpse of the thorn-apple
tree, which overshadowed the graves of her parents, and then, as she
thought how cold and estranged was the only one left of all the home
circle, she drew her veil over her face and burst into tears.

"Who is that young lady?" asked Ida, who was riding backward and
consequently directly opposite to Mary.

"What young lady?" said Rose; and Ida replied, "The one who kissed
that queer-looking old woman and then followed you and Jenny into the
cars."

"Oh, that was Mary Howard," was Rose's answer.

"Mary Howard!" repeated Ida, as if the name were one she had heard
before, "who is she, and what is she?"

"Nobody but a town pauper," answered Rose, "and one of Jenny's
protegee's. You see she is sitting by her."

"She doesn't seem like a pauper," said Ida. "I wish she would take off
that veil. I want to see how she looks."

"Rough and blowsy, of course, like any other country girl," was Rose's
reply.

By this time Mary had dried her tears, and when they reached the
station at Warren, she removed her veil, disclosing to view a face,
which instead of being "rough and blowsy" was smooth and fair almost
as marble.

"That isn't a pauper, I know," said Ida; and Rose replied, "Well, she
has been, and what's the difference?"

"But where does she live now?" continued Ida. "I begin to grow
interested."

"I suppose you remember Mrs. Mason, who used to live in Boston,"
answered Rose. "Well, she has adopted her, I believe, but I don't know
much about it, and care a good deal less."

"Mrs. Mason!" repeated Ida. "Why, Aunt Martha thinks all the world of
her, and I fancy she wouldn't sleep quite so soundly, if she knew her
adopted daughter was in the car. I mean to tell her.--Aunt Martha,
Aunt Martha!"

But Aunt Martha was too fast asleep to heed Ida's call, and a gentle
shake was necessary to rouse her to consciousness. But when she became
fully awake, and knew why she was roused, she started up, and going
towards Mary, said in her own peculiarly sweet and winning manner,
"Ida tells me you are Mr