“You won’t tell your pa or anybody if I tell you?” she stipulated, when she was enthroned on Mr. Pollock’s tombstone.  Opposite her the manse children lined up on another.  Here was spice and mystery and adventure.  Something had happened.

“No, we won’t.”

“Cross your hearts?”

“Cross our hearts.”

“Well, I’ve run away.  I was living with Mrs. Wiley over-harbour.  Do you know Mrs. Wiley?”

“No.”

“Well, you don’t want to know her.  She’s an awful woman.  My, how I hate her!  She worked me to death and wouldn’t give me half enough to eat, and she used to larrup me ’most every day.  Look a-here.”

Mary rolled up her ragged sleeves, and held up her scrawny arms and thin hands, chapped almost to rawness.  They were black with bruises.  The manse children shivered.  Faith flushed crimson with indignation.  Una’s blue eyes filled with tears.

“She licked me Wednesday night with a stick,” said Mary, indifferently.  “It was ’cause I let the cow kick over a pail of milk.  How’d I know the darn old cow was going to kick?”

A not unpleasant thrill ran over her listeners.  They would never dream of using such dubious words, but it was rather titivating to hear someone else use them—­and a girl, at that.  Certainly this Mary Vance was an interesting creature.

“I don’t blame you for running away,” said Faith.

“Oh, I didn’t run away ’cause she licked me.  A licking was all in the day’s work with me.  I was darn well used to it.  Nope, I’d meant to run away for a week ’cause I’d found out that Mrs. Wiley was going to rent her farm and go to Lowbridge to live and give me to a cousin of hers up Charlottetown way.  I wasn’t going to stand for that.  She was a worse sort than Mrs. Wiley even.  Mrs. Wiley lent me to her for a month last summer and I’d rather live with the devil himself.”

Sensation number two.  But Una looked doubtful.

“So I made up my mind I’d beat it.  I had seventy cents saved up that Mrs. John Crawford give me in the spring for planting potatoes for her.  Mrs. Wiley didn’t know about it.  She was away visiting her cousin when I planted them.  I thought I’d sneak up here to the Glen and buy a ticket to Charlottetown and try to get work there.  I’m a hustler, let me tell you.  There ain’t a lazy bone in my body.  So I lit out Thursday morning ’fore Mrs. Wiley was up and walked to the Glen—­six miles.  And when I got to the station I found I’d lost my money.  Dunno how—­dunno where.  Anyhow, it was gone.  I didn’t know what to do.  If I went back to old Lady Wiley she’d take the hide off me.  So I went and hid in that old barn.”

“And what will you do now?” asked Jerry.

“Dunno.  I s’pose I’ll have to go back and take my medicine.  Now that I’ve got some grub in my stomach I guess I can stand it.”

But there was fear behind the bravado in Mary’s eyes.  Una suddenly slipped from the one tombstone to the other and put her arm about Mary.