appeared in mourning, and the obituaries were there, and these obituaries, could she have read them, would have struck Margaret as the most incredible thing in the world to have happened to her. The statue was a spontaneous thought, and it found spontaneous action. While her people were still talking about her death,
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Cloister at Christ Church Cathedral.
the fund for it was collected; it was ordered and executed; and almost before she was missed there, she was there again before the asylum she had built, sitting on her same old chair that every one knew so well, dressed in the familiar calico gown with her little shawl over her shoulders, not the old shawl she wore every day, but the pretty one of which she was so proud, which the orphans crocheted for her.
