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 great rent in her gown. And when Mistress Ball entered the kitchen a few minutes later, a stifled little sob made her look toward a dark corner of the big room.

"How now, my dear?" She stopped short upon her way to the cupboard. "Tears i' your eyes?"

"Aye." Sally dashed them away, however. "See what I did but now, Mistress Ball! And—and—the Williams sewing bee this very afternoon as ever is! I know not, forsooth, what I shall do!" Her lips trembled again. "This be mine only gown!"

Mistress Ball examined the long, jagged tear in her skirt that Sally held up for tremulous inspection. "However did ye do it, my child?" she asked. "Why, this be fit only for the rag bag, I'm thinking. Your best gown, ye say?"

"Aye." Again Sally nodded her head forlornly. "And what Mistress Todd will say when she doth return, I know not!"

"Humph—Mistress Todd should ha' provided gowns not quite so near the worn-out stage," thought Mistress Ball. But aloud she repeated: "How did ye tear it, lass?"

"On the fire-iron yonder," Sally told her, nodding toward the andirons. "I bent over to reach the back log—methought it was smouldering overly much—and snip! I heard my gown go as I straightened up. Oh, me, was ever maid so unfortunate!