“’Oh! Miss Mary, what has happened to you, that you sit crying so bitterly on the stair head? Come in here!’
“I arose and went into the attic with her, when she set me on a chair, and busied herself with my bruises, and said to me—
“’Now, tell me what are you crying about, and why did they turn you out of the drawing-room—tell me now?’
“’Ay,’ said I, ‘they turned me out because I cried when I was hurt. I fell all the way down stairs, but they don’t mind.’
“’No, they do not, and yet in many families they would have taken more care of you than they do here!’
“’And why do you think they would have done so?’ I inquired.
“’Don’t you know what good fortune has lately fallen into your lap? I thought you knew all about it.’
“’I don’t know anything, save they are very unkind to me lately.’
