Ella was too much pleased with Mrs. Campbell, and the thoughts of the fine home to which she was going, to weep but her chin quivered, when Mary held up the baby for her to kiss, and said, “Perhaps you will never see little Allie again.”

When all was ready, Mr. Knight walked around his wagon, and after trying to adjust the numerous articles it contained, said, “I don’t see how in the world I can carry that cradle, my wagon is chuck full now.  Here is a case of shoes for the gals to stitch, and a piller case of flour for Miss Smith, and forty ’leven other traps, so I guess you’ll have to leave it.  Mebby you can find one there, and if not, why, she’ll soon get used to going without it.”

Before Mary could reply, Billy whispered in her ear “Never mind, Mary; you know that little cart that I draw mother’s wood in, the cradle will just fit it, and to-morrow afternoon I’ll bring it to you, if it doesn’t rain.”

Mary knew that he meant what he said, and smiling on him through her tears, climbed into the rickety wagon, which was minus a step, and taking Alice in her arms, she was soon moving away.  In striking contrast to this, Ella, about five minutes afterwards, was carefully lifted into Mrs. Campbells handsome carriage, and reclining upon soft cushions, was driven rapidly towards her new home.

Will their paths in life always continue thus different?  Who can tell?

CHAPTER V.

The poor-house.

How long and tiresome that ride was with no one for a companion except Mr. Knight, who, though a kind-hearted man knew nothing about making himself agreeable to little girls, so he remained perfectly taciturn, whipping at every cow or pig which he passed, and occasionally screaming to his horse, “Git up, old Charlotte.  What are you ’bout?”

Mary, who had seldom been out of the village, and who knew but little of the surrounding country, for a time enjoyed looking about her very much.  First they went down the long hill which leads from the village to the depot.  Then they crossed the winding Chicopee river, and Mary thought how much she should love to play in that bright green meadow and gather the flowers which grew so near to the water’s edge.  The causeway was next crossed, and turning to the right they came upon a road where Mary had never been before, and which grew more rough and stony as they advanced.

On the top of a steep hill Mary looked back to see if Chicopee were yet, visible, but nothing was to be seen except the spire of the Unitarian Meeting-House.  About a quarter of a mile to the west, however, the graveyard was plainly discernible, and she looked until her eyes were dim with tears at the spot where she knew her parents and brother were lying.  By this time Alice was asleep, and though the little arms which held her ached sadly, there was no complaint, but she wished Mr. Knight would speak to her once, if it were only to ask her how she did!