Mingling with the rather hysterical weeping in which Lily’s indignation had culminated there was another sound of sobbing, and, turning suddenly, they beheld, with a poor little cotton handkerchief pressed to her eyes, the forlorn figure which had just been so aptly described that there was no difficulty in recognizing—Mary Ann Stubbs!
CHAPTER III.
IN KATIE’S ROOM.
The poor girl had followed Lily at a word from Mrs. Abbott, who felt, perhaps, that the ordeal of meeting some more of her fellow-scholars had better be over at once. Unnoticed, and not knowing exactly how she ought to make her presence known, the poor thing had stood motionless in the door-way hearing the cruel words, like a target into which all the arrows of scorn were being fired, till the sound of Lily’s sobs broke down her stony composure.
Katie, who was always good-natured, was really shocked at the cruel wounds the stranger had received, and, going up to her, attempted to apologize and soothe her. But the case seemed too dreadful to admit of palliation, and every thing Katie could think of to say seemed to make the matter worse. There was a sort of pathetic dignity in the way Mary Ann dried her tears after a few moments and said in a tone which showed the difficulty of commanding her voice:
“I do not want to trouble Mrs. Abbott, so please, ma’am, will you show me some place I can stay where I’ll be out of people’s way?”
“Come in here,” said Lily, thoroughly ashamed of herself. “I know Mrs. Abbott meant you to come here.”
“If I could be useful to you, ma’am,” the girl said, hesitatingly, yet looking as if she longed to get away.
“I wish you’d come into my room and help me unpack,” said Katie, having tact and good-natured enough to think the proposal would be pleasing.
She led the way through the back hall and up-stairs to the dormitories, which were a row of small rooms on each side of a long hall with a large bath-room at each end. There were a double bed and two small bureaus in each room.