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 sharply told her to be done before she spoiled it.

It was a busy Saturday morning which ensued. Sally's duty it was to make the butter, to dip the candles, to sand the floor for the Sabbath, and to clean the brass. Harassed, driven, the girl flew from one task to another, scarcely taking time to eat the dinner of boiled beef and young greens she had helped to prepare. It was about five o'clock that, as Sally knelt with a sharp stick drawing an elaborate pattern in the sand. Mistress Todd, pausing at the foot of the stair, asked carelessly if she had seen little Mary.

"Nay," answered the girl, "I have not seen her recently. Is she not wi' her father, mistress?"

"Mayhap." The mother's tone was calm.

Half an hour passed. Sally finished her task and went out of the house toward the brook that gurgled its way to the valley past the farm. There she bathed her dusty feet and played with a little turtle that went serenely upon its way over the miniature dam she had built in the brook to tease it.

"Hast seen Mary yet?" inquired Mistress Todd, glancing up from her knitting as Sally went through the kitchen. Answering in the negative, the girl passed on up the stairs.

It must have been a vague premonition that made her pause a little later at the head of the stairs before descending to the kitchen. Or perhaps it was the terrible note of alarm in Mistress Todd's