"What young lady?" said Rose; and Ida replied, "The one who kissed that queer-looking old woman and then followed you and Jenny into the cars."
"Oh, that was Mary Howard," was Rose's answer.
"Mary Howard!" repeated Ida, as if the name were one she had heard before, "who is she, and what is she?"
"Nobody but a town pauper," answered Rose, "and one of Jenny's protegee's. You see she is sitting by her."
"She doesn't seem like a pauper," said Ida. "I wish she would take off that veil. I want to see how she looks."
"Rough and blowsy, of course, like any other country girl," was Rose's reply.
By this time Mary had dried her tears, and when they reached the station at Warren, she removed her veil, disclosing to view a face, which instead of being "rough and blowsy" was smooth and fair almost as marble.
"That isn't a pauper, I know," said Ida; and Rose replied, "Well, she has been, and what's the difference?"
"But where does she live now?" continued Ida. "I begin to grow interested."
"I suppose you remember Mrs. Mason, who used to live in Boston," answered Rose. "Well, she has adopted her, I believe, but I don't know much about it, and care a good deal less."