"I thought as much," said Mary drearily. "And then they'll give me out again—likely to some one just like Mrs. Wiley. Well, I s'pose I can stand it I'm tough."
"I'm going to pray that you won't have to go back," whispered Una, as she and Mary walked home to the manse.
"You can do as you like," said Mary decidedly, "but I vow I won't. I'm good and scared of this praying business. See what's come of it. If Mrs. Wiley had died after I started praying it would have been my doings."
"Oh, no, it wouldn't," said Una. "I wish I could explain things better—father could, I know, if you'd talk to him, Mary."
"Catch me! I don't know what to make of your father, that's the long and short of it. He goes by me and never sees me in broad daylight. I ain't proud—but I ain't a door mat, neither!"
"Oh, Mary, it's just father's way. Most of the time he never sees us, either. He is thinking deeply, that is all. And I am going to pray that God will keep you in Four Winds—because I like you, Mary."
"All right. Only don't let me hear of any more people dying on account of it," said Mary. "I'd like to stay in Four Winds fine. I like it and I like the harbour and the light house—and you and the Blythes. You're the only friends I ever had and I'd hate to leave you."
