Mary quite believed that she was living in an enchanted place where she would always be able to have everything she wanted, and even a great many things she did not want in the least. Where there would always be plenty of nice things to eat and drink, and Evangeline to tell her stories as nobody had done before.

She hoped she should never see Mrs. Coppert again as long as she lived, because Evangeline had said that she should not go away until her foot was well again, and although it was certainly better it was not quite well yet.

But there were times when Mary felt just a little afraid, for now and then she dreamed she was back at William Street, where everything seemed much worse than it used to be. And one morning the tall man with the long beard looked at her foot a great while, and when it was covered over again, he quite frightened Mary.

'It is very much better,' he said, 'and there is no reason why she should not try to walk. In fact, the sooner she goes away the better.'

'There now,' said Sister Agatha when he had gone, 'what do you think of that? Won't it be nice to walk again? You will like that, won't you?'

'No,' answered Mary; 'I shan't like it at all. I don't want to walk.'

'Oh yes, you will like it!' said Sister Agatha. 'Now suppose you try to walk across the room.'

Mary rose from her chair, and Sister Agatha held her hand while she limped along by her side. It felt odd to be walking again, and Sister Agatha suggested she should race with her doll. So the doll was placed in a corner, and then Sister Agatha turned the key, which was necessary, she said, because the doll could not eat as Mary did, and the race began. But although Mary seemed to walk much more slowly than the doll, who made a great fuss whenever it walked a few yards, she reached the door first. Sister Agatha clapped her hands, and gave Mary a prize; she gave her a lump of sugar.

But although Mary laughed about the race, she began to look miserable again when she remembered that the tall man had said she was to go away, for of all things in the world she did not wish to leave Evangeline and Sister Agatha. When Evangeline came to see her that afternoon, Mary clasped her small arms round her neck and clung to her, and cried, 'Please don't send me away! Pray don't send me back to Mrs. Coppert!'

'Why, my dear child,' said Evangeline; 'I am not going to send you back. I have never dreamed of such a thing.'

'But he said I was to go away,' answered Mary.

'So you are going away,' Evangeline explained; 'but not to William Street. Sister Agatha and I are going with you, and I think you will like it very much indeed.'

'I shall if you and Sister Agatha go,' said Mary, and now she felt more satisfied, and she spent a happy afternoon with her toys. She went to bed quite happily, but when her head had been some time on the pillow Evangeline entered the room.

'Poor child!' she said, 'is she asleep yet?'

'Yes,' answered Sister Agatha, looking down at Mary's closed eyes; 'she did not lie awake long to-night.'

'How alarmed she was at the idea of leaving us,' said Evangeline quietly.

'And yet,' answered Sister Agatha, 'it is certain she can't stay here for ever. You will have to make up your mind what is to be done before long. Mary will soon be quite well again; besides, you will have other things to think of.'

This conversation made Mary feel uncomfortable again. Of course she ought not to have listened to it; she ought to have sat up in bed, or at least to have called out to let Evangeline know she was not asleep. But the fact was that Mary felt so interested to hear anything about herself that she could not resist the temptation to listen, and after Evangeline had gone downstairs again she still kept her eyes shut, although it was late before she really fell asleep that night.

There were so many other things to think of that she soon forgot all about her fear of going back to William Street, especially when Sister Agatha began to pack a trunk with Mary's clothes and toys. She told her they were going into the country—she and Evangeline and Mary. Of course Mary had no idea what the country could be like, but she tried to find out by asking a great many questions. Sister Agatha said there were fields instead of houses, and trees instead of lamp-posts, but Mary did not understand very clearly what a field was like; still the morning came when they were to start, and Mary was ready first. When she stood before the looking-glass with her new hat and jacket on, really she hardly knew herself. It seemed as if Evangeline must have changed her as Cinderella was changed, for you remember that even Cinderella's sisters did not recognise her at the ball.

Mary Brown stood before the tall glass, and she saw a little girl with a rather pale face; it looked very clean, and her brown hair was carefully tied back with ribbon. She wore tan-coloured stockings and high button boots, and altogether it was a little difficult to believe she was the same Mary Brown who used to wear the ragged dress and to make mud pies in the gutter.

She went downstairs holding Sister Agatha's hand, and on reaching the hall she saw two very tall men in pale blue coats and white stockings. Although they looked quite young men their hair was white, and one of them took Mary in his arms to carry her across the pavement to a carriage that was waiting before the door. It seemed so nice to be out in the sunshine that Mary laughed aloud, but she was soon seated in the carriage with Evangeline and Sister Agatha; then the horses started, and presently they reached a large railway station. Mary knew all about trains, because there was a bridge over William Street, and whilst she played in the road they used to rush by overhead with a noise like thunder. But she had never entered a train before, so that she felt curious to see what it would be like inside. She thought it seemed very nice, with soft blue cushions to sit upon, and windows to look out at.

Presently the train began to move, and looking out at the window Mary saw rows and rows of houses which looked very much like those in William Street. But when the houses were left behind Mary opened her eyes very widely; she thought she had never seen anything quite so wonderful as this! Not even the wonderful things she had seen the night Sister Agatha carried her downstairs had astonished her so much! For there were no houses, and she had never seen ground without houses until now.

She looked upon wide open spaces, with dozens of trees and oxen in green meadows, and the consequence was that she began to ask so many questions that Sister Agatha suggested that she should sit down and try to go to sleep.

'Oh no, thank you,' answered Mary, 'I'm not at all sleepy. I'd much sooner look out of window.'

'I thought perhaps you would like me to tell you a story,' said Evangeline.

'Yes, I should like you to tell me a story!' cried Mary, and she climbed down from the seat and nestled close to Evangeline's side.