By this time Mary had dried her tears, and when they reached the station at Warren, she removed her veil, disclosing to view a face, which instead of being “rough and blowsy” was smooth and fair almost as marble.

“That isn’t a pauper, I know,” said Ida; and Rose replied, “Well, she has been, and what’s the difference?”

“But where does she live now?” continued Ida.  “I begin to grow interested.”

“I suppose you remember Mrs. Mason, who used to live in Boston,” answered Rose.  “Well, she has adopted her, I believe, but I don’t know much about it, and care a good deal less.”

“Mrs. Mason!” repeated Ida.  “Why, Aunt Martha thinks all the world of her, and I fancy she wouldn’t sleep quite so soundly, if she knew her adopted daughter was in the car.  I mean to tell her.—­Aunt Martha, Aunt Martha!”

But Aunt Martha was too fast asleep to heed Ida’s call, and a gentle shake was necessary to rouse her to consciousness.  But when she became fully awake, and knew why she was roused, she started up, and going towards Mary, said in her own peculiarly sweet and winning manner, “Ida tells me you are Mrs. Mason’s adopted daughter, and Mrs. Mason is the dearest friend I ever had.  I am delighted to see you.”

Jenny immediately introduced her to Mary, as Miss Selden, whispering in her ear at the same time that she was George’s aunt; then rising she gave her seat to Aunt Martha, taking another one for herself near Rose and Ida.  Without seeming to be curious at all, Aunt Martha had a peculiar way of drawing people out to talk of themselves, and by the time they reached the station, where they left the cars for Mt.  Holyoke, she had learned a good share of Mary’s early history, and felt quite as much pleased with the freshness and simplicity of her young friend, as Mary did with her polished and elegant manners.

CHAPTER XIX.

MT.  HOLYOKE

“Oh, forlorn what a looking place!” exclaimed Rose Lincoln, as from the windows of the crowded vehicle in which they had come from the cars, she first obtained a view of the not very handsome village of South Hadley.

Rose was in the worst of humors, for by some mischance, Mary was on the same seat with herself, and consequently she was very much distressed, and crowded.  She, however, felt a little afraid of Aunt Martha, who she saw was inclined to favor the object of her wrath, so she restrained her fault-finding spirit until she arrived at South Hadley, where every thing came in for a share of her displeasure.

“That the Seminary!” said she contemptuously, as they drew up before the building.  “Why, it isn’t half as large, or handsome as I supposed.  Oh, horror!  I know I shan’t stay here long.”