"He died, and you came in a carriage; but didn't cry,--nobody cried but Mary." It was in vain that Mary tried to explain to her that Mrs.Campbell was her sister,--once the baby Jane.

Sally was not to be convinced.

To her Jane and the little Alice were the same.

There was none of her blood in Mrs.Campbell's veins, "or why," said she, "did she leave us so long in obscurity, me and my niece, _Mrs.George Moreland, Esq.!_" This was the title which she always gave Mary when speaking of her, while to Ella, who occasionally spent a week in her sister's pleasant home, she gave the name of "little cipher," as expressing exactly her opinion of her.

Nothing so much excited Sally, or threw her into so violent a passion, as to have Ella call her aunt.
"If I wasn't her kin when I wore a sixpenny calico," said she, "I certainly am not now that I dress in purple and fine linen." When Sally first went to Boston, George procured for her the best possible medical advice, but her case was of so long standing that but little hope was entertained of her entire recovery.