CHAPTER XI.
ALICE.
As spring advanced, Alice began to droop, and Sally's quick eye detected in her infallible signs of decay.

But she would not tell it to Mary, whose life now seemed a comparatively happy one.

Mr.and Mrs.
Parker were kind to her,--the pleasant-looking woman and the girl with crooked feet were kind to her.

Uncle Peter petted her, and even Miss Grundy had more than once admitted that "she was about as good as young ones would average." Billy, too, had promised to remain and work for Mr.Parker during the summer, intending with the money thus earned to go the next fall and winter to the Academy in Wilbraham.

Jenny was coming back ere long, and Mary's step was light and buoyant as she tripped singing about the house, unmindful of Miss Grundy's oft-expressed wish that "she would stop that clack," or of the anxious, pitying eyes Sal Furbush bent upon her, as day after day the faithful old creature rocked and tended little Alice.
"No," said she, "I cannot tell her.