"No, you are not," said Althea. "I never saw you before."
"Didn't you, now? Maybe you've forgotten. I sent you away to board, but you've come home to live with your ma."
"You are telling stories. You are a bad woman," returned the child, ready to cry.
"It's a purty thing for a child to tell her ma she's lyin'."
"You're not my ma. You're an ugly woman. My ma hasn't got a red face."
"Hear till her now!" exclaimed Mrs. Donovan, indignantly. "Don't you go on talkin' that way, but get right up, or you sha'n't have any breakfast."
"Oh, send me back to my mother and Dan!" implored Althea.
"Dress yourself, and I'll see about it," said Mrs. Donovan.
Althea looked for her clothes, but could not find them. In their place she found a faded calico dress and some ragged undergarments, which had once belonged to a daughter of Mrs. Donovan, now at service.