Marjory forgot about her for the time being. Blanche had so many treasures to show her and so much to say to her that the afternoon passed all too quickly.
They had tea by themselves in the room Mrs. Forester had chosen as a schoolroom--comfortable and cheerful, with windows looking over the garden. A new set of shelves had been put up, and all Blanche's books were arranged on them--her story books on the top and her lesson books on the lower shelves.
Marjory feasted her eyes upon the collection. Here were Blanche's old favourites, amongst them Grimm's "Fairy Tales," and Hans Andersen's, "Alice in Wonderland," "Black Beauty," and many others. One after another she took them down to show to Marjory.
"You must read every one of them," she said, "and then your mind inside will be just like mine."
"I should love to read them all, but I wouldn't be allowed to read the fairy tales," with a sigh.
"What a pity!" cried Blanche. "I wonder why. Do you think he would let you if I were to ask him? I could take him my 'Grimm' and show him what splendid tales they are."
"Would you dare to?" asked Marjory, awestruck by her friend's bold plan.
"Dare to? Of course I should. I can't think why you are so frightened of Dr. Hunter, he looks such a dear old thing. If he were a cow or a bull it would be different," laughing; "but you don't seem a bit afraid of them, with their great horns and bulging, glaring eyes."
"That's just where we're different," said Marjory, laughing too. "You're afraid of animals and not of people, and I'm afraid of people and not of animals."
"Well, anyway, I'm not afraid to ask about the fairy tales. I shall tell him that of course we don't really believe in them in our everyday heads, but they are nice to think about, and to think perhaps some day a fairy thing might happen."
Marjory laughed. "Isn't that believing in them?"
"No, not really. I can't quite explain what I mean."
"I've made fairies for myself," said Marjory. "There are plenty of them in the garden, and I understand what they say. They know me quite well, and I only have to sit very quietly and hardly breathe, and I can hear them. They live in the flowers, and you can hear them ringing their tiny little bells and talking to one another, so low that it is only just a whisper."