ell sie ae Zaks IMA eB OND:

le the kitchen of a tenement house in a
rural part of the city of Woburn, Mass.,
on a hot July afternoon four years ago,
the little girl whose picture you see
here was washing dishes.
She was eleven years old. Her name
vie VY was Lizzie Bond; “Lizzie May,” she
=A ll was called. Her father and mother were

=|. =n .
I" Miva, in the hay-field not far from the house,

ly J Uf, and she had been left in charge of the
| LWW four younger children playing outside.
ty Y,
// /

s FTO .
oN

  
 
 

Janie and Herbert, the older ones,
were whistling with grass. Martha
and Cynthia, the three-year-old baby,

Bei Se were trying to whistle, too. There was
an old well in the yard. Round the boards that covered it, the grass
grew high, and it was there the children were pulling the blades.

They were making such a noise the little girl did not notice when
the shouts and whistles changed to screams; but all at once came
hurrying feet and Martha’s voice crying as she ran: “ Oh, Lizzie
May! come quick! Cynthia! quick!”

Before the words were out, Lizzie May had rushed out of the house
and past her. She saw the boards pushed away from the well-open-
ing. In an instant she was kneeling on the edge, calling, “ Cynthia!”

There was no answer. “She is dead!” sobbed Martha. “She fell
over backwards and I tried to catch her dress and couldn't.”

“ Get father and mother, quick!” Lizzie May said.

They were already coming running across the fields, Janie and
Herbert on before. Mr. Bond rushed to the nearest house for help.
- The others, hurrying, had hardly reached the gate when Herbert who
~ was ahead raised a cry of alarm: “ Lizzie May’s going down the well!”
Lizzie May had just swung herself over the edge She could climb