Recollect,
Marianne, you mustn't answer if I call you Marianne--only when I say
Susquehanna."
"Yes'm," replied Marianne, very meekly.
For a whole day all went on delightfully. Susquehanna lived in her
wooden box, ate all the apples and the freshest cookies, and was happy.
The two children took turns to steal away and play with the "Baby," as
they called Marianne, though she was a great deal bigger than Clover.
But when night came on, and nurse swooped on Katy and Clover, and
carried them off to bed, Miss O'Riley began to think that the garret was
a dreadful place. Peeping out of her box, she could see black things
standing in corners, which she did not recollect seeing in the day-time.
They were really trunks and brooms and warming-pans, but somehow, in the
darkness, they looked different--big and awful. Poor little Marianne
bore it as long as she could; but when at last a rat began to scratch in
the wall close beside her, her courage gave way entirely, and she
screamed at the top of her voice.
"What is that?" said Dr. Carr, who had just come in, and was on his way
up stairs.
"It sounds as if it came from the attic," said Mrs. Carr (for this was
before Mamma died).
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