a just cause against Providence, but he
was very kind to Maria; he petted her as if she had been his own
child. Every pleasant night Uncle Henry took Maria for a
trolley-ride, or a walk, and he treated her to ice-cream soda and
candy. Aunt Maria also took good care of the child. She showed a sort
of vicious curiosity with regard to Maria's step-mother and all the
new household arrangements, which Maria did not gratify. She had too
much loyalty, although she longed to say all that she thought to her
aunt, being sure of a violent sympathizer.

"Well, I'll say one thing, she has fixed your clothes nice," said
Aunt Maria.

"She didn't do it, it was Miss Barnes," replied Maria. She could not
help saying that much. She did not want Aunt Maria to think her
step-mother took better care of her wardrobe than her own mother had
done.

"Good land! She didn't hire all these things made?" said Aunt Maria.

"Yes'm."

"Good land! I don't see how your father is going to stand it. I'd
like to know what your poor mother would have said?" said Aunt Maria.

Then Maria's loyalty came to the front. After all, she was her
father's wife, and to be defended.

"I guess maybe father is making more money now," said she.

"Well, I hope to the land he is," said Aunt Maria. "I guess if She
(Aunt Maria also treated Ida like a pronoun) had just one hundred
dollars and no more to get along with, she'd have to do different."

Maria regained her strength rapidly. When she went home, a few days
before her school begun, in September, she was quite rosy and
blooming. She had also fallen in love with a boy who lived next to
Aunt Maria, and who asked her, over the garden fence, to correspond
with him, the week before she left.

It was that very night that Aunt Maria had the telegram. She paid the
boy, then she opened it with trembling fingers. Her brother Henry and
Maria were with her on the porch. It was a warm night, and Aunt Maria
wore an ancient muslin. The south wind fluttered the ruffles on that
and the yellow telegram as she read. She was silent a moment, with
mouth compressed.

"Well," said her brother Henry, inquiringly.

Aunt Maria's face flushed and paled. She turned to Maria.

"Well," she said, "you've got a little sister."

"Good!" said Uncle Henry. "Ever so much more company for you than a
little brother would have been, Maria."

Maria was silent. She trembled and felt cold, although the night was
so warm.

"Weighs seven pou