"Very well," said the man, "I'm going to North Chicopee, but shall be
back in two hours, so you must have your things all ready."

"Don't cry so, Mary," whispered Billy, when he saw how fast her tears
were falling. "I'll come to see you every week, and when I am older,
and have money, I will take you from the poor-house, and Alice too."

Just then, Mrs. Campbell's carriage drove up. She had been taking her
afternoon ride, and now, on her way home, had stopped for Ella, who in
her delight at going with so handsome a woman, forgot the dreary home
which awaited her sister, and which, but for Mrs. Campbell's fancy,
would have been hers also. While she was getting ready, Mr. Knight
returned, and driving his old-fashioned yellow wagon, with its square
box-seat up by the side of Mrs. Campbell's stylish carriage, he
entered the house, saying, "Come, gal, you're ready, I hope. The old
mare don't want to stand, and I'm in a desput hurry, too. I orto be to
hum this minute, instead of driving over that stony Portupog road. I
hope you don't mean to carry that are thing," he continued, pointing
with his whip towards Alice's cradle, which stood near Mary's box of
clothes.

The tears came into Mary's eyes, and she answered "Alice has always
slept in it, and I didn't know but--"

Here she stopped, and running up to Ella, hid her face in her lap,
and sobbed, "I don't want to go. Oh, I don't want to go, can't I stay
with you?"

Billy's yellow handkerchief was suddenly brought into requisition, and
Mrs. Bender, who, with all her imaginary aches and pains, was a