dreadful. There's places enough, sight worse, and
then agin there's them, a good deal better But you needn't be afeard.
They'll take good care of you."

"I wasn't thinking of myself," said Mary.

"Who was you thinkin' of, then?"

"Of Alice; she's always been sick and is not used to strangers, and
among so many I am afraid she will be frightened."

"Oh, she'll soon get used to 'em. Nothin' like, habit. Weakly, is she?
Wall, the poor-house ain't much of a place to get well in, that's a
fact. But she'd be better off to die and go to her mother, and then
you could get a good place at some farmer's."

Mary wondered how he could speak thus carelessly of what would cause
her so much sorrow. Gently lifting the old faded shawl, she looked
down upon Alice as she slept. There was a smile upon her face. She was
dreaming, and as her lips moved, Mary caught the word, "Ma," which the
child had applied indiscriminately both to herself and her mother.
Instantly the tears gushed forth, and falling upon the baby's face
awoke her. Her nap was not half out, and setting up a loud cry, she
continued screaming until they drove up to the very door of the
poor-house.

"For the land's sake," said Mr. Knight, as he helped Mary from the
wagon, "what a racket; can't you contrive to stop it? you'll have Sal
Furbush in your hair, for she don't like a noise."

Mary glanced nervously round in quest of the goblin Sal, but she saw
nothing save an idiotic face with bushy tangled hair; and nose
flattened against the window pane. In terror Mary clung to Mr. Knight,
and whispered, as she pointed towards the figure, which was now
laughing hideously, "What is it? Are there many such here?"

"Don't be afeard," said Mr. Knight, "that's nobody but foolish Patsy;
she never hurt any body in her life. Come, now, let me show you to the
overseer."

Mary looked towards the woods which skirted the borders of the meadow
opposite, and for half a moment felt inclined to flee thither, and
hide herself in the bushes; but Mr. Knight's hand was upon her
shoulder, and he led her towards a red-whiskered man, who stood in the
door.

"Here, Parker," said he, "I've brought them children I was tellin' you
about. You've room for 'em, I s'pose."

"Why, ye-es, we can work it so's to make room. Guess we shall have
rain to-morrow."

Mary remembered that Billy would not come if it rained, and with a
sigh she noticed that the clouds were dark and threatening. They now
enter