nd she burst into tears over an old rake which
she had been accustomed to call hers, because she had always dragged it
at hay-making. Then wiping her eyes hastily--for, partly from her
aunt's hardness, she never could bear to be seen crying, even when a
child--she fled to Brownie's stall, and burying herself in the manger,
began weeping afresh. After a while, the fountain of tears was for the
time exhausted, and she sat disconsolately gazing at the old cow
feeding away, as if food were everything and a _roup_ nothing at all,
when footsteps approached the _byre_, and, to her dismay, two men, whom
she did not know, came in, untied Brownie, and actually led her away
from before her eyes. She still stared at the empty space where Brownie
had stood,--stared like a creature stranded by night on the low coast
of Death, before whose eyes in the morning the sea of Life is visibly
ebbing away. At last she started up. How could she sit there without
Brownie! Sobbing so that she could not breathe, she rushed across the
yard, into the crowded and desecrated house, and up the stair to her
own little room, where she threw herself on the bed, buried her eyes in
the pillow, and, overcome with grief, fell fast asleep.

When she woke in the morning, she remembered nothing of Betty's
undressing and putting her to bed. The dreadful day that was gone
seemed only a dreadful dream, that had left a pain behind it. But when
she went out, she found that yesterday would not stay amongst her
dreams. Brownie's stall was empty. The horses were all gone, and many
of the cattle. Those that remained looked like creatures forgotten. The
pigs were gone, and most of the poultry. Two or three favourite hens
were left, which auntie was going to take with her. But of all the
living creatures she had loved, not one had been kept for Annie. Her
life grew bitter with the bitterness of death.

In the afternoon, her aunt came up to her room, where she sat in
tearful silence, and telling her that she was going to take her into
the town, proceeded, without further explanation, to put all her little
personal effects into an old hair-trunk, which Annie called her own.
Along with some trifles that lay about the room, she threw into the
bottom of the box about a dozen of old books, which had been on the
chest of drawers since long before Annie could remember. She, poor
child, let her do as she pleased, and asked no questions; for the
shadow in which she stood was darke