Mary knew that Billy was very observing of dress, and she blushed painfully as she replied, that Mrs. Campbell gave it to her.

“Well, she ought to be ashamed,” said he, “with all her money to give you a corn-basket of a thing like that.  Ella doesn’t wear such a one, I can tell you.”

Just then the first bell rang, and Sal, who had mischievously recommended a mustard poultice, as being the most likely to draw Mrs. Bender’s spine to a head, started to go saying, “she wanted to be there in season, so as to see the folks come in.”

Accordingly they again set forward, attracting more attention, and causing more remarks, than any two who had passed through Chicopee for a long time.  On reaching the church, Sal requested the sexton to give her a seat which would command a view of the greater part of the congregation, and he accordingly led them to the farthest extremity of one of the side galleries.  Mary had been there at church before, but as she had always sat near the door, she did not know in what part of the building Mrs. Campbell’s pew was located.  As she leaned over the railing, however, she concluded that the large square one with crimson velvet cushions must be hers.  Erelong the bell began to toll, and soon a lady dressed in deep mourning appeared, and passing up the middle aisle, entered the richly cushioned pew.  She was accompanied by a little girl, tastefully dressed in a frock of light-blue silk tissue.  A handsome French straw hat was set jauntily on one side of her head, and her long curls hung over her white neck and shoulders.  Mary knew that this was Ella, and involuntarily starting up, she leaned forward far enough to bring her bonnet directly in sight of some thoughtless girls, who immediately commenced tittering, and pointing her out to those near them.

Blushing scarlet, the poor girl sank back into the seat, saying half aloud, “O, I wish I hadn’t come.”

“What’s the matter?” said Sal.  “Has somebody laughed at you?  I’ll warrant there has;” and leaning over the railing herself, she shook her fist threateningly at the girls, whose eyes were still directed that way.

Mary felt instinctively that her companion was attracting more attention than her bonnet; and twitching her dress bade her sit down.  Sal obeyed; but she had no opportunity that morning of deciding whether the sermon were grammatical or not, for she was constantly on the look out, and whenever she saw any one scrutinizing Mary or herself more closely than they ought, a shake of her fist and a horrid face warned them to desist.  Twice during church time Mary thought, nay felt sure that she caught her sister’s eye, but it was quickly withdrawn, as if unwilling to be recognized.

When church was out, Sal insisted upon going down immediately; so they descended together to the porch below, reaching it just as Mrs. Campbell appeared in the doorway.  Had she chosen, Mary could have touched the lady’s dress as she passed; but she rather shrank from being seen, and would probably not have been observed at all, had not Sal planted herself directly in front of Mrs. Campbell, saying loudly enough for all near her to hear, “Madam, do you not recognize your munificent gift of charity in yonder amazing bonnet?” at the same time pointing towards Mary, who nervously grasped the strings of her hat, as if to remove the offensive article.