mell of
soap, of being lectured; and when supper was over was very glad to sit
at peace on the door-steps and read her favorite book, a tattered copy
of the Fairy Tales. Soon she forgot the trials of the day. "Once upon a
time there lived a beautiful Princess," she read, but just then came a
sharp call. "Mell, Mell, you tiresome girl, see what Tommy is about;"
and Mrs. Davis, dashing past, snatched Tommy away from the pump-handle,
which he was plying vigorously for the benefit of his small sisters, who
stood in a row under the spout, all dripping wet. Tommy was wetter
still, having impartially pumped on himself first of all. Frocks,
aprons, jacket, all were soaked, shoes and stockings were drenched, the
long pig tails of the girls streamed large drops, as if they had been
little rusty-colored water-pipes.

"Look at that!" cried Mrs. Davis, exhibiting the half-drowned brood.
"You might as well be deaf and blind, Mell, for any care you take of
'em. Give you a silly book to read, and the children might perish before
your eyes for all you'd notice. Look at Isaphine, and Gabella Sarah.
Little lambs,--as likely as not they've taken their deaths. It shan't
happen again, though. Give me that book--" And, snatching Mell's
treasure from her hands, Mrs. Davis flung it into the fire. It flamed,
shrivelled: the White Cat, Cinderella, Beauty and the Beast,--all, all
were turned in one moment into a heap of unreadable ashes! Mell gave one
clutch, one scream; then she stood quite still, with a hard, vindictive
look on her face, which so provoked her step-mother that she gave her a
slap as she hurried the children upstairs. Mrs. Davis did not often slap
Mell. "I punish my own children," she would say, "not other people's."
"Other people's children" meant poor Mell.

It was not a very happy home, this of the Davis's. Mell's father was
captain of a whaler, and almost always at sea. It was three years now
since he sailed on his last voyage. No word had come from him for a
great many months, and his wife was growing anxious. This did not
sweeten her temper, for in case he never returned, Mell's would be
another back to clothe, another mouth to fill, when food, perhaps, would
not be easily come by. Mell was not anxious about her father. She was
used to having him absent. In fact, she seldom thought of him one way or
another. If Mrs. Davis had been kinder, and had given her more time to
read the Fairy Tales, she would have been quite a happy