hered. The biggest ones goes out in th' cow-shed and plays
there. Dickon he doesn't mind th' wet. He goes out just th' same as if
th' sun was shinin'. He says he sees things on rainy days as doesn't
show when it's fair weather. He once found a little fox cub half drowned
in its hole and he brought it home in th' bosom of his shirt to keep it
warm. Its mother had been killed nearby an' th' hole was swum out an'
th' rest o' th' litter was dead. He's got it at home now. He found a
half-drowned young crow another time an' he brought it home, too, an'
tamed it. It's named Soot because it's so black, an' it hops an' flies
about with him everywhere."

The time had come when Mary had forgotten to resent Martha's familiar
talk. She had even begun to find it interesting and to be sorry when she
stopped or went away. The stories she had been told by her Ayah when she
lived in India had been quite unlike those Martha had to tell about the
moorland cottage which held fourteen people who lived in four little
rooms and never had quite enough to eat. The children seemed to tumble
about and amuse themselves like a litter of rough, good-natured collie
puppies. Mary was most attracted by the mother and Dickon. When Martha
told stories of what "mother" said or did they always sounded
comfortable.

"If I had a raven or a fox cub I could play with it," said Mary. "But I
have nothing."

Martha looked perplexed.

"Can tha' knit?" she asked.

"No," answered Mary.

"Can tha' sew?"

"No."

"Can tha' read?"

"Yes."

"Then why doesn't tha' read somethin', or learn a bit o' spellin'?
Tha'st old enough to be learnin' thy book a good bit now."

"I haven't any books," said Mary. "Those I had were left in India."

"That's a pity," said Martha. "If Mrs. Medlock'd let thee go into th'
library, there's thousands o' books there."

Mary did not ask where the library was, because she was suddenly
inspired by a new idea. She made up her mind to go and find it herself.
She was not troubled about Mrs. Medlock. Mrs. Medlock seemed always to
be in her comfortable housekeeper's sitting-room down-stairs. In this
queer place one scarcely ever saw any one at all. In fact, there was no
one to see but the servants, and when their master was away they lived a
luxurious life below stairs, where there was a huge kitchen hung about
with shining brass and pewter, and a large servants' hall where there
were four or five abundant meals eaten every day, and wh