She set out bravely the next day with Mrs. Forester and Blanche. Her heart beat very quickly as the carriage stopped at the post office.
"Why, Mary Ann, if this is no Hunter's Marjory in the carriage with thae new folks frae Braeside," exclaimed Mrs. Smylie to her daughter as she saw the party arrive. "After a' I telt the leddy yesterday too."
"Good-afternoon, Mrs. Smylie," she said shyly. "Can I see Mary Ann?"
Mrs. Smylie did not return her greeting, and without looking up from the stamp desk called to Mary Ann.
"What is it?" cried Mary Ann from the parlour behind the shop.
"Come an' see," was her mother's reply. "_I_ canna tell ye."
Mary Ann came sauntering into the shop. When she saw Marjory she stopped and stared.
"Hallo!" she said mockingly. "Want some more of what you had last time?"
Marjory flushed, and then with an effort, and speaking very quickly, she said,--
"I've come to say I'm sorry I called you an ugly name, but I think you were unkind in what you said."
"Do you suppose I care whether you call me names or not?" And the girl gave a hard laugh.
"No; but I care. I am ashamed of myself."
Mrs. Smylie looked on and listened, curious to see how the affair would end.
"You are a queer little kid," said Mary Ann. "Any one can see you haven't been to school. No girl in our school would come and eat humble pie like this. Well, I believe I did say a lot of stuff just to rub you up, and if you're sorry I'm sorry too, so we'll shake hands--eh?"
The girls shook hands, and Marjory, again saying good-afternoon to Mrs. Smylie, left the shop.
Mrs. Smylie replied by a nod. She was a little disappointed at the turn things had taken. She rather enjoyed having a grievance, and Hunter's Marjory and her "tantrums" had been a fertile subject for gossip during the last few days.
"Ye needna hae gien in sae sune," she remarked to her daughter when the carriage had driven off.
"That was my business," replied Mary Ann, with a toss of her head.
"Hoots, lassie, ye needna haud yer head sae high wi' yer mither. I was but thinkin' ye micht hae held it higher wi' yon chit."
"I'll never be like her, not if I live to be a hundred and go to fifty schools--so there." And Mary Ann banged out of the shop, leaving her mother silent with amazement.
