There was a stir in the cradle, and with a faint cry the baby Alice awoke and stretched her hands towards Mary who, with all a mother’s care took the child upon her lap and fed her from the milk which was still standing in the broken pitcher.  With a baby’s playfulness Alice dipped her small fingers into the milk, and shaking them in her sister’s face, laughed aloud as the white drops fell upon her hair.  This was too much for poor Mary, and folding the child closer to her bosom she sobbed passionately.

“Oh, Allie, dear little Allie, what will you do?  What shall we all do?  Mother’s dead, mother’s dead!”

Ella was not accustomed to see her sister thus moved, and her tears now flowed faster while she entreated Mary to stop.  “Don’t do so, Mary,” she said.  “Don’t do so.  You make me cry harder.  Tell her to stop, Billy.  Tell her to stop.”

But Billy’s tears were flowing too, and he could only answer the little girl by affectionately smoothing her tangled curls, which for once in her life she had forgotten to arrange At length rising up, he said to Mary, “Something must be done.  The villagers must know of it, and I shall have to leave you alone while I tell them.”

In half an hour from that time the cottage was nearly filled with people, some of whom came out of idle curiosity, and after seeing all that was to be seen, started for home, telling the first woman who put her head out the chamber window for particulars, that “’twas a dreadful thing, and such a pity, too, that Ella should have to go to the poor-house, with her pretty face and handsome curls.”

But there were others who went there for the sake of comforting the orphans and attending to the dead, and by noon the bodies were decently arranged for burial.  Mrs. Johnson’s Irish girl Margaret was cleaning the room, and in the bedroom adjoining, Mrs. Johnson herself, with two or three other ladies, were busily at work upon some plain, neat shrouds, and as they worked they talked of the orphan children who were now left friendless.

“There will be no trouble,” said one, “in finding a place for Ella, she is so bright and handsome, but as for Mary, I am afraid she’ll have to go to the poor-house.”

“Were I in a condition to take either,” replied Mrs. Johnson, “I should prefer Mary to her sister, for in my estimation she is much the best girl; but there is the baby, who must go wherever Mary does, unless she can be persuaded to leave her.”

Before any one could reply to this remark, Mary, who had overheard every word, came forward, and laying her face on Mrs. Johnson’s lap, sobbed out, “Let me go with Alice, I told mother I would.”

Billy Bender, who all this while had been standing by the door, now gave a peculiar whistle, which with him was ominous of some new idea, and turning on his heel started for home, never once thinking, until he reached it, that his mother more than six hours before had sent him in great haste for the physician.  On entering the house, he found her, as we expected, rolled up in bed, apparently in the last stage of scarlet fever; but before she could reproach him, he said “Mother, have you heard the news?”