"Nonsense," he said, rather sharply. "I won't have any workmen tampering with it. Don't let me hear any more about it."
The doctor wanted to keep things as they had been, and did not approve of any alterations in the house, and he was probably afraid that the box might be injured by any attempts to open it forcibly. After this the girls stopped talking about it, but continued to think about it a good deal.
July slipped away and August came. Mr. Forester had invited some friends for the shooting, and the Twelfth saw quite a large party assembled at Braeside. Dr. Hunter forbade Marjory to go while the strangers were there. He gave no reason for so doing. He did not wish her to go, and that was enough. He expected Marjory's implicit obedience, without question on her part or explanation on his. The truth was that the doctor was afraid that some casual stranger, seeing Marjory, and perhaps hearing her story, might put two and two together, as the saying is, and convey to Mr. Davidson the information which had been so long and so carefully withheld.
Marjory felt rebellion in her heart, and for a day or two returned to her old sullen mood with her uncle. Blanche came and begged that her friend might be allowed to go just once to a picnic luncheon on the moor, but the doctor was firm in his refusal. He himself was invited to dine at Braeside, but he declined the invitation, courteously but firmly. So there was nothing to be done but to submit. Blanche came to Hunters' Brae as often as she could, but Marjory was very glad when the visitors went away, and she was able to go in and out at Braeside as before.
These were the happiest weeks the girl had ever known. The two friends spent long sunshiny days together, but though it was very delightful to ramble about with Blanche, and to show the town-bred girl some of the sights and pleasures of the country, Marjory secretly longed for the eighteenth of September and the commencement of those lessons she so ardently wished for. It was quite certain that Blanche had no such longings, for she constantly expressed her satisfaction in the extra week of holidays, and wished it were longer. Blanche was a good and industrious scholar during lesson times, but she was honestly glad when they were over, and sorry when they began again. She had not that thirst for knowledge which was almost a pain to Marjory, and for her part she was inclined to wish that these lovely summer days might last, if not for ever, at least for a very, very long time. She would be quite content to do nothing but roam with Marjory about the park and gardens, to visit Mrs. Shaw at the Low Farm, and to wander about the house at Hunters' Brae, examining its many treasures. There was the loch, too, and its pleasures of boating and bathing. Every day she went with her mother and Marjory to bathe in the cool, clear water, and Marjory was teaching her to swim. Then, in the evenings, sometimes the doctor would take them for a sail, and she would sit wondering at the clever way in which Marjory carried out his orders, pulling this rope, slackening the other. It all seemed most bewildering to Blanche, and she admired her capable friend the more. These holidays were full of delight. Lesson hours would come again all too soon for Blanche.