some of which were of such a length that when you stood at
one end, the other seemed to vanish into distance.

Everything went well until they reached the shipping room where a
travelling crane was rolling on its tracks overhead, carrying a load of
boxes. This crane was hurrying back empty for another load, its chain and
tackle swinging low, when Martha started across the room to look at one
of the boys who had caught his thumb between a hammer and a nail and was
trying to bind it with his handkerchief. The next moment the swinging
tackle of the crane struck poor Martha in the back, caught in her dress
and dragged her for a few horrible yards along the floor.

That night the house on the hill had two unexpected visitors, the Angel
of Death following quickly in the footsteps of the Angel of Life.

"You poor motherless little thing," breathed Cordelia, cuddling the baby
in her arms. "Look, Josiah," she said, trying to rouse her brother. "Look
...it's smiling at you--"

But Josiah looked up with haggard eyes that saw nothing, and could only
repeat the sentence which he had been whispering to himself, "It's God's
own punishment--God's own punishment--there are things--I can't tell
you--"

The doctor came to him at last and, after he was quieter, the two sisters
went away, carrying their precious burden with them.

"Wasn't there a girl's name which means bitterness?" asked Miss Cordelia,
suddenly stopping.

"Yes," said Miss Patty. "That's what 'Mary' means."

The two sisters looked at each other earnestly--looked at each other and
nodded.

"We'll call her 'Mary' then," said Miss Cordelia.

And that is how my heroine got her name.

CHAPTER IV

I wish I had time to tell you in the fulness of detail how those two
spinsters brought up Mary, but there is so much else to put before you
that I dare not dally here. Still, I am going to find time to say that
all the love and affection which Miss Cordelia and Miss Patty had ever
woven into their fancies were now showered down upon Mary--falling softly
and sweetly like petals from two full-blown roses when stirred by a
breeze from the south.

When she was a baby, Mary's nose had an upward tilt.

One morning after Miss Cordelia had bathed her (which would have reminded
you of a function at the court of the Grand Monarque, with its Towel
Holder, Soap Holder, Temperature Taker and all and sundry) she suddenly
sent the two maids and the nurse away and, casting dign