live with her; ‘one,’ she said, ’who could be quiet when her head ached, and who would read to her and wait on her at other times.’  Mother said she did not know of any; but when Mrs. Mason went out to get tea, I followed and told her of you, and the tears came into her eyes when I said your folks were all dead, and you were alone and sorry.  She said right off that she would come round and see you soon, and if she liked you, you should live with her.  But I must run back, for I suppose you know mother brought our governess with us, and it’s time I was turning my toes out and my elbows in.  Ugh! how I do hate such works.  If I ever have a house, there shan’t be a fashionable thing about it.  I’ll have it full of cats, dogs, and poor children, with a swing and a ‘teater’ in every room, and Billy Bender shall live with me, and drive the horses!”

So saying, she ran off; and Mary, having gathered her cowslips, sat down to think of Mrs. Mason, and wonder if she should ever see her.  Since Alice’s death she had been in the daily habit of learning a short lesson, which she recited to Sally, and this afternoon, when the dishes were all washed, she had as usual stolen away to her books.  She had not been long occupied, ere Rind called her, saying Mr. Knight, who, it will be remembered, had brought her to the poor-house, was down stairs and wanted to see her, and that there was a lady with him, too.

Mary readily guessed that the lady must be Mrs. Mason and carefully brushing her hair, and tying on a clean apron, she descended to the kitchen, where she was met by Mr. Knight, who called out, “Hallo, my child, how do you do?  ’Pears to me you’ve grown handsome.  It agrees with you to live here I reckon, but I’ll venture you’ll be glad enough to leave, and go and live with her, won’t you?” pointing towards a lady, who was just coming from Mrs. Parker’s room, and towards whom Mary’s heart instantly warmed.

“You see,” continued Mr. Knight, “one of the Lincoln girls has taken a mighty shine to you, and it’s queer, too, for they’re dreadful stuck-up folks.”

“If you please, sir,” said Mary, interrupting him, “Jenny isn’t a bit stuck up.”

“Umph!” returned Mr. Knight.  “She don’t belong to the Lincoln race then, I guess.  I know them, root and branch.  Lincoln’s wife used to work in the factory at Southbridge, but she’s forgot all about that, and holds her head dreadful high whenever she sees me.  But that’s neither here nor there.  This woman wants you to live with her.  Miss Mason, this is Mary.  Mary, this is Miss Mason.”

The introduction being thus happily over, Mrs. Mason proceeded to ask Mary a variety of questions, and ended by saying she thought she would take her, although she would rather not have her come for a few days, as she was going to be absent.  Miss Grundy was now interrogated concerning her knowledge of work, and with quite a consequential air, she replied, “Perhaps, ma’am, it looks too much like praising myself, considerin’ that I’ve had the managin’ of her mostly, but I must confess that she’s lived with me so long and got my ways so well, that she’s as pleasant a mannered, good-tempered child, and will scour as bright a knife as you could wish to see!”