This letter had set the doctor thinking. First, he was nettled by his friend's use of the words "poor little thing." Why should Marjory be pitied as a poor little thing? Had he not done everything he possibly could for her? Then came one of those painful stabs of conscience which insisted now and then on being felt. What about her father? Have you done right in that matter?
He salved his conscience for the time being by making up his mind to go and see the Foresters, and if they were indeed all that his friend had said, there could be no reason why he should not encourage a friendship between the two girls. Marjory certainly had been very quiet and inclined to mope of late, and it would be a good thing for her to be roused by this new interest. The child was seldom out of his thoughts for long together; he loved her as his own; and yet Marjory was not happy--she was lonely, she did not understand her uncle and misjudged him, and he found her cold and unresponsive. There was something wanting between them; both were conscious of this want, yet neither knew how to supply it and so mend matters.
"Have hope, though clouds environ now, And gladness hides her face in scorn; Put thou the shadow from thy brow-- No night but has its morn."--SCHILLER.
Things had come to a climax that afternoon. Marjory had driven by herself to the village to get some things that Lisbeth wanted, and also to buy some stamps for her uncle. Peter usually accompanied her on these expeditions, but to-day he was busy in the vine-house, and excused himself from attending upon his little mistress. She was quite accustomed to driving, however, and Brownie, the pony, was a very steady, well-behaved little animal, and a great pet of Marjory's; so she started off in good spirits, Silky running beside the cart as usual. She did her errands in the village, finishing up at the post office, which was also the bakery and the most important building in the place. Mrs. Smylie, the baker's wife and postmistress, served her with the stamps, and Marjory was about to say good-afternoon and leave the shop, when Mrs. Smylie opened a door and called out,--
"Mary Ann, here's Hunter's Marjory; maybe ye'd like to see her." And turning to Marjory, she explained, "Mary Ann's just hame frae the schule for a wee bit."
