paper to carry
with her. A big tear hopped down her nose and splashed into the middle
of the yellow pansy, her favorite of all. It turned up its bright
kitten-face just the same. None of them minded Mary's going away.
Flowers are sometimes so unkind to people.

"Good-by, rose-bush," proceeded Mary, turning from the pansy-bed.
"Good-by, honey-suckle. Good-by, peony. Good-by, matter-i-mony." This
sounds funny, but Mary only meant by it a vine with a small purple
flower which grew over the back-door. "Good-by, lilac," she went on.
"Good-by, grass plot." This brought her to the gate. The wagon stood
waiting to carry them to the railroad, three miles away. Mrs. Forcythe,
with the baby in her arms, was just getting in. "Hurry, Mary," called
her father. Slowly she opened the gate, slowly shut it. Her father
helped her over the wheel. She sat down beside Frank. Mrs. Clapp waved
her handkerchief, then put it to her eyes. Mary took a long look at the
pretty garden just budding with spring, and burst into tears. Mr.
Forcythe chirruped to the horse; they were off,--and that was their
good-by to Valley Hill.

Redding was certainly very different. It was an old-fashioned town with
narrow streets, which smelt of fish. Most of the people were sailors, or
had something to do with ships. There were several nice churches, and
outside the town a few handsome houses, but there were a great many poor
people in the place and not many rich ones.

In the very narrowest of all the streets stood the parsonage; a little
brick house with a paved yard behind, just wide enough for
clothes-lines. When the wash was hung out there was not an inch to
spare on either side. Mary gave up all hope as soon as she saw it. There
was not room even for _one_ pansy. The windows looked out on chimneys
and roofs and other backyards, with lines of wet clothes flapping in the
sun. Not a tree was to be seen. Any one might be excused for thinking it
doleful; and Mary, having made up her mind beforehand to dislike it,
found it easy to keep her resolution.

There was no possibility of getting things to rights that night; though
several people came in to help, and a comfortable supper was ready
spread for the travellers on their arrival. Mrs. Forcythe was cheered by
this kindness, but Mary could not be cheerful. She had to sleep upon a
mattress laid on the floor. At another time this would have been fun,
but now it did not seem funny at all; it was only part and parcel