The child was dressed in a simple holland frock, with a black ribbon round her waist, and another round her plain straw hat. Her servant was so far behind that she seemed to be quite by herself.
She put her arm round Patience's neck.
The funeral over, the little Countess came forward, and the tears came into her eyes when she saw how the chief mourner cried, for poor Patience Filbert was very sad; and although she was a countess, she put her arm round Patience's neck, and wiped away her tears.
Who was she?
"Lady," said Dolly Strap, who was rather rude, "what's your name?"
"They call me 'the Countess,'" said the child, "but my name is Mary. Should you all like to come up to the garden? There is plenty of fruit."
And they went, wondering that a countess could be so plainly dressed, and so feeling, and so kind.
Our feelings in this life are very mingled—joy and sorrow, sorrow and joy. So was it in this case. For the funeral party (now replenished with gooseberries) returned with a new Bullie in a gilt cage; it was the little Countess's own pet which she gave Patience to make up her loss.
The little Countess's treatment of Patience—her sympathy, the tears which came into her eyes when she saw another's distress—knocked the bottom out of all the saddler's arguments against the "haristockracy," and the little man cock-a-doodle-doo'd over him tremendously at the "Green Dragon." And every door in Hopedale was open at once to the little Countess, and every child in the place was ready to put his hand to his hat or curtsey to her. One kind act of real sympathy had opened all hearts to her; and who knows how much prejudice against us will be done away with, and how many hearts will be opened to us, even by one act of sympathy and love?