"Hast thou done wrong, my child?"
"I meant not to do wrong," said Sally, "but I ran away."
"Ah, how was that? Tell me the truth about it."
And trembling in every limb, with eyes cast down, poor little Sally stammered out the whole story: her longing, her determination, her fine chance, Mistress Brace's refusal to let her go, and now her fear of returning home.
"I will go with thee to Slipside Row," said the parson, "and do not fear, thou shalt not suffer in any way."
And now again, had Sally been a well-taught child, she would have known how mean a thing it was to listen to what might be said in the keeping-room. But when the parson said to Mistress Cory Ann, "I would have speech with thee, Mistress Brace," up crept Sally to a room over the keeping-room, and lying flat on the floor, with her ear to a large crack under the window, she could hear nearly all that was said.
Sally had been surprised at the many low curtseys Mistress Cory Ann made when the parson came up to the door, and at the look of fear that had come over her face. Yes, Mistress Brace had indeed looked afraid!
Now Sally heard Parson Kendall say:
"But had you any right to make of the child almost a servant when she was left so sadly alone?"
"It was that or the Town House," said Mistress Brace, shortly.