“She said you would likely have to go back to the asylum.”
“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.”