pert had taken her to William Street, but
still she seemed tired after her adventure, and as soon as she finished
tea she was put to bed. She did not have very agreeable dreams that
night, and even the next morning she could think of nothing but Mrs.
Coppert.

When Evangeline came to see her during the afternoon, Mary looked up
wonderingly into her face and said--

'What I can't make out is how Mrs. Coppert knew where I was! How did she
know I was here?'

'If you sit down,' answered Evangeline, 'I will tell you a story.'

'Bring your stool close to me,' said Sister Agatha. And without losing a
moment, Mary carried her stool to Sister Agatha's side and sat down.
Then Evangeline began the story.

'Once upon a time there lived in London a young woman whom we will
call--what shall we call her? Suppose we say her name was Gertrude! She
lived in a large house and she had a lot of money, and she was very fond
of driving nice horses. One afternoon, being a little late, she drove
through the streets more quickly than she ought to have done. It was
growing dark, and as she drove along a narrow street she ran over a poor
little girl who was making mud-pies in the gutter, and knocked her down
and hurt her very much.

'At first Gertrude feared she was dead, for her face was quite white,
and her eyes were closed, and she neither spoke nor moved. But presently
she moved a little, although she did not open her eyes.

'Now Gertrude felt very sorry, especially because she knew she had been
to blame in driving too fast through the street, and she felt anxious to
do whatever she could to make Lucy--we will call the little girl
Lucy--quite well again. Of course a crowd soon collected to see what was
the matter, and some one in the crowd told Gertrude where Lucy lived.
But Gertrude thought the child would be more likely to get well if she
took her to her own house, so she sent one of her servants to Lucy's
friends to explain what had happened, but Lucy, herself, was put into
the carriage and driven away with Gertrude.

'When they reached the house Lucy was carried upstairs to a spare room
and put to bed, then a doctor was sent for, and when the doctor had gone
Gertrude wrote to the best woman she knew. This person used to be a
great friend of Gertrude's until she made up her mind to have nothing
more to do with such idle, good-for-nothing people. So she went away
from her friends and spent her life nursing poor folk who were sick.