"Dare say the little doll thinks herself pretty, though," she said. And
then she passed on, and the girls with her, and as they went off they
looked back over their shoulders and laughed again.
Never since has any human creature--not even Alma herself--made me
suffer more than I suffered at that moment. My throat felt tight, tears
leapt to my eyes, disappointment, humiliation, and shame swept over me
like a flood, and I stood squeezing my little handkerchief in my hand
and feeling as if I could have died.
At the next moment Mildred stepped back to me, and putting her arm about
my waist she said:
"Never mind, Mary. She's a heartless thing. Don't have anything to do
with her."
But all the sunshine had gone out of the day for me now and I cried for
hours. I was still crying, silently but bitterly, when, at eight
o'clock, we were saying the night prayers, and I saw Alma, who was in
the opposite benches, whispering to one of the girls who sat next to her
and then looking straight across at me.
And at nine o'clock when we went to bed I was crying more than ever, so
that after the good-night-bell had been rung and the lights had been put
down, Sister Angela, not knowing the cause of my sorrow, stepped up to
my bed before going down stairs for her own studies, and whispered:
"You mustn't fret for home, Mary.
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