“It is very lovely,” said Mrs. Abbott, as the girls were petting and fondling her, “very lovely in you to care so much for my deliverance from peril. I have not been able to tell you half how dreadful my danger was. I seemed to be looking right at death, and a terrible death, too. My heart is full of thankful love whenever I think of God’s goodness to me then. Perhaps my lips did not utter a word; I know I did not scream, but something within me cried out just as the supreme moment of danger was at hand, ‘Lord, save me, save me, save me!’

“Girls,” continued Mrs. Abbott, solemnly, making an effort to recover herself from the strong excitement with which she had spoken the last words, “God heard me out of the depths of my agony; he sent the angel of his deliverance to my help. Do you wonder that gratitude to the girl who risked her life to save mine makes me wish to make her life happier?”

“It was Mary Ann Stubbs,” exclaimed Lily, throwing her arms around Mrs. Abbott’s neck and sobbing, “and I—I—I have been so mean to her when she saved your life!”

“O, Lily, keep still and let Mrs. Abbott tell us the rest,” said Delia. “Did you faint when they took you out? And when did you find out that it was Mary Ann who held the quilt? I don’t see how she came to think of doing it, anyway.”

“Nor I,” said Bell. “I am afraid I should just shut my eyes and shudder if I were to see a lady being run away with in such a fearful way.”

“I suppose almost any girl would feel as you do,” said Mrs. Abbott. “I am sure I should feel helpless myself in the same circumstances, but Mary Ann is really a very uncommon character.

“Naturally enough, I was sick for some days from the nervous shock of my accident, and in that time I learned much about her from the hotel-keeper’s wife, who used to come in and sit with me. It was not till she told me that I knew who kept the horse from taking that dreadful turn.

“I found that the one great desire of Mary Ann’s life was to have an education. The few books she could get hold of she knew almost by heart, and in the little country school she attended in winter she studied with a vigor that soon carried her beyond the rather slightly educated teacher. During all the work of her busy days she was always committing something to memory, and the results of her application will surprise you when you see her in class.

“It seemed impossible to take away a girl who was the main-stay of her family, for Mary Ann’s earnings in assisting at the hotel a part of every day through the season and water-carrying and berry-picking, moss-basket-making, and several other small employments, counted largely toward her mother’s support. Her father lost his leg by an accident, so his capacity as a bread-winner is greatly reduced; but by the co-operation of the landlord of the Peconough House it has all been arranged, and now I ask your kindness for poor Mary Ann. She is rough, uncouth, and ignorant of every thing that goes to make polish and elegance, but she has a bright mind and a noble heart.

“I have told you of her origin and her almost menial position in order to account for her peculiarities of manner and speech, and I have told you of the bravery that saved my life to enlist your interest in her; and now I ask you if you are willing to overlook the obnoxious points and be friendly to Mary Ann?”

“Indeed we will!” said they all as with one voice; and, loving their teacher as they did, the girls felt a grateful desire to heap benefits on her preserver.

“I can see now,” said Mrs. Abbott, tears starting to her eyes at the evidences of her scholars’ love for her, “that I had better have told you this story before letting you see Mary Ann; but we are all apt to make mistakes. I think I have made another in asking one of you to take her in especial charge, so I withdraw the office from you, Lily.”

“No, no, let me ‘mother’ Mary Ann. Don’t punish me for my contemptible conduct!” cried Lily, red with shame.

“No, dear, it is not for punishment, but because I see ample reason for leaving any one girl free from individual responsibility. I will give her into the care of you all.”

“Make her a kind of child of the regiment,” said Delia.

“Yes, exactly that. You five may consider yourselves in honor bound to look after the interests of poor Mary Ann.”

“I am going to begin by teaching her grammar,” said Bell, at which the others quite laughed, for Bell was very weak on that branch of learning. “Well, you needn’t laugh. I don’t say ‘you be’ and ‘I haint,’ and I don’t think there’s any harm in my telling her not to do it.”

“You will be astonished when I tell you,” said Mrs. Abbott, “that Mary Ann is well grounded in grammar and rhetoric, but she has spent her life where no practical use of them is made in conversation; so the poor girl does not know how to talk; but as soon as she catches the idea that her speech is different from others she will bend every nerve to changing it. Her great ambition is to become a teacher and earn enough to educate her brothers and sisters.”

“Six of them!” groaned Katie.

“How is she to get clothes?” asked Bell, thinking of the thick shoes and the vivid plaid. “She wouldn’t be so bad if she dressed like other folks.”

“I should have attended to that before she came,” said Mrs. Abbott, “but when I recovered I felt unwilling to stay among the mountains, and driving was no longer a pleasure to me, so we went to Narragansett for the rest of the vacation, leaving the care of getting Mary Ann down here in time for school opening with Mrs. Perkins, the hotel-keeper’s wife. I have already set the girl who has been engaged to make Elfie’s dresses to work upon a navy-blue cashmere for Mary Ann, and shoes of a more girlish appearance she shall have this afternoon.”

“And may I bring you some cuffs and collars for her?” asked Bell. “Mamma always packs up such an insane quantity of them for me. I never use half of them.”

“And I can give her lots of hair-ribbons,” said Katie.

“O, please let us fill her top drawer with our superfluities,” said Lily; “she will never know where they came from, and it will be great fun!”

Mrs. Abbott hesitated.

“I do not like to destroy her independence. Her position as occasional helper in the hotel kitchen did not bring her into contact with the guests, so she was never offered presents or fees.”

“I know,” said Lily; “you want her to feel as good as any one.”

“Yes, I do; and if she is to begin by accepting gifts she may get a feeling of inferiority that I don’t wish her to have.”

“Well, wont you put the things in the drawer, and not tell her we gave them? Surely she can take a favor from you,” said Delia.

And so it was arranged. Mary Ann had her raptures over gloves, ribbons, ruffles, and other girlish properties which she had never dreamed of possessing, and the girls who had supplied her out of their profusion were well paid by seeing the improvement in her appearance and hearing her expressions of delight when she told them of the furniture of the top drawer she expected to find empty.

Mrs. Abbott kept her rather out of sight for a day or two, and when school work began in earnest Mary Ann, in her new blue dress, with clean collar and cuffs, nice shoes and dark stockings, was not a conspicuous figure till she opened her mouth to speak.