MARGERY 
 MORRIS

 
 OF GMJF. LWWART,
 
 AN OLD FAMILY RETAINER
 
 MARGERY 
 MORRIS 
 
 Illustrated by 
 
 ADA C. WILLIAMSON 
 
 THE PENN PUBLISHING 
 
 COMPANY PHILADELPHIA 
 
 1920
 
 COPYRIGHT 
 
 1917 BY 
 
 THE PBNN 
 PUBLISHING 
 COMPANY 
 
 Morrl*
 
 BETSET-JANE-O 
 
 2129700
 
 Introduction 
 
 MARGERY MORRIS is the story of the experi- 
 ences of a young girl in a quaint old Quaker 
 town in New Jersey. It tells of the friends 
 she makes, of the fun and mishaps she has, 
 and of the great surprise she receives at the 
 end. 
 
 Much against her will she visits her grand- 
 father, whom she has not seen since she was a 
 child, and her visit does not begin happily. 
 But the kindly welcome of the old house- 
 keeper, the jolly comradeship of two boy 
 cousins, and the friendship of a girl of her 
 own age, Polly Jameson, help to remedy her 
 discontent. The boys and girls have much 
 wholesome fun, and Margery blunders into 
 not a few scrapes. Events occur which cause 
 her distress and finally a strange discovery. 
 Through her own trouble she learns the truth 
 of a verse the old doctor teaches her : 
 
 " Two things stand like stone, 
 Kindness in your neighbor's trouble, 
 Courage in your own." 
 5
 
 6 INTRODUCTION 
 
 The following book will tell of the winter 
 Margery spends with her grandfather, her 
 devotion to him, and the jolly times she and 
 Polly Jameson have with the other girls and 
 boys.
 
 Contents 
 
 I. ANOTHER RELATIVE . . . , II 
 
 II. DICK EXPLAINS 22 
 
 III. AT THE FARM . .... 32 
 
 IV. DEBORAH . . . . , 47 
 V. TEMPE WICK 68 
 
 VI. AT OLD ST. PETER'S .... 89 
 
 VII. BENJIE ...... 101 
 
 VIII. SCHOOL 115 
 
 IX. ESTHER 128 
 
 X. THE L. A. L 141 
 
 XI. PUMPKINS 156 
 
 XII. THEY VISIT THE CITY . . . 179 
 
 XIII. THE DEAF-MUTES .... 195 
 
 XIV. " I'M SORRY, DICK " . . . .208 
 XV. THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO . . . 223 
 
 XVI. RESPONSIBILITIES .... 243 
 
 XVII. RICE 260 
 
 XVIII. THE L. A. L. MEETS .... 269 
 
 XIX. "THAT BABY Is ME!" . . .288 
 
 XX. "WHOO? WHOO?" . . . .297 
 
 XXI. MARGERY AND POLLY DINE WITH THE 
 
 DOCTOR 316 
 
 XXII. AT LAST ... . 331
 
 Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 " AN OLD FAMILY RETAINER " . . Frontispiece 
 
 IF ONLY SHE HAD NOT BEEN So HATEFUL . 92 
 "WHY, YOU'VE SOME FUN IN You, AFTER ALL ! " 136 
 " WHAT'S THIS IN THE FRYING-PAN ? " . 265 
 
 A HAND WAS SLIPPED INTO HERS . . . 325 
 
 Margery Morris
 
 Margery Morris 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ANOTHER RELATIVE 
 
 " HELLO, DICK ! I just tried to get you on 
 the 'phone, but they said you were out. I 
 want you to come for supper to-night. Uncle 
 Jack's coming down on this train, and, I 
 say, Dick, you ought to hear him talk ! He's 
 just been made a scout-master, you know." 
 
 The boy addressed dug the point of his shoe 
 into a crack between the boards of the station 
 platform. " Can't," he said, disconsolately. 
 "Sorry, Sam. I've got to meet this train, and 
 take the cousin that's coming on it out to the 
 farm. And then hang around and do the 
 polite, I suppose, worse luck ! " 
 
 Sam whistled. " Another ' dear cousin,' 
 eh ? " he asked with a grin. The never-end- 
 ing stream of relatives who came to visit at 
 
 11
 
 12 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 the Morris farm was a constant source of 
 amusement to the people of Renwyck's Town. 
 " I thought your grandfather was still away." 
 
 " He is." Dick whirled on his heel, and 
 tried putting the point of his other shoe into 
 the crack in the platform. " But this dear 
 relative seems to be coming, whether or no. 
 I think it's a girl, too, worse luck." 
 
 " Anyhow, that's better than five old 
 ladies," consoled Sam, and both boys laughed. 
 The five old ladies who had arrived in a body 
 at the Morris farm, several months before, 
 were still fresh in their minds. " But who is 
 this one ? You're a clam, Dick ! You didn't 
 say a word about her yesterday." 
 
 " Didn't know she was coming ! I suppose 
 Grandfather knows, I've forwarded a lot of 
 letters to him up there in Canada, but I 
 haven't heard a word from him for two 
 weeks. I guess he is pretty well snowed up." 
 
 " How do you know that she is coming 
 now ? " queried Sam, who had a masterly 
 mind for details. Besides, the Morris farm 
 when its owner was away was a paradise 
 for the boys of Renwyck's Town, and Sam 
 felt that he had a right to know something
 
 ANOTHER RELATIVE 13 
 
 about the feminine serpent who was to invade 
 his Eden. 
 
 " Oh, she sent a telegram from the city. 
 They 'phoned it out from the telegraph office, 
 and old Thomas answered the 'phone, so all 
 that we know is : ' dat Miss Margaret Morris 
 done arrived at Philadelphia, and will be 
 down on the five-fohty-foh.' The only Mar- 
 garet Morris that I can think of is Uncle 
 Harry's daughter. They always call her 
 ' Bunnie,' but her real name is Margaret, I 
 think. They were living in Texas last 
 winter, and she was coming on for a visit 
 then ; but something happened ; she had 
 measles, or something, and she didn't come. 
 However, I'll know all about her soon 
 enough," and Dick looked as bored at the 
 prospect as he felt. 
 
 " I hope Deborah doesn't get mad about it, 
 and leave," he added pessimistically. " She's 
 the only housekeeper we've had that's any 
 good since old Matilda died. It's hard on 
 her, our having so much company." 
 
 Sam grinned. " What makes you have 
 such a lot ? " he asked, although he knew 
 perfectly well that Dick's grandfather found
 
 H MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 more congenial society in the score of semi- 
 dependent relatives living at a distance and 
 bound to him by the ties of kinship and 
 gratitude, and the debt due to ungrudging 
 hospitality, than he did in his neighbors at 
 Renwyck's Town, who were not inclined to 
 overlook his crotchets and peculiarities. 
 
 Dick flushed, and dug his toe deeper into 
 the crack. " Well, it's right to be hospitable," 
 he declared, loyal as always to the grand- 
 father who was often needlessly severe with 
 him. " Grandfather believes in ' holding by 
 the family,' he says. As long as anybody has 
 a drop of Morris blood in his veins, he says he 
 is welcome to come as often, and stay as long 
 as he likes, he's kind of crazy over the 
 name, I guess. Besides, he says he hates this 
 modern stingy way of just asking people to a 
 meal in a restaurant. To tell the truth," 
 Dick admitted, " if there weren't so many 
 cousins I'd take more interest in them. 
 Thank fortune, we are only distantly related 
 to most of the Morrises living in Renwyck's 
 Town now. I don't take any stock in Uncle 
 Harry, though," he finished, going back to 
 the subject of the coming visitor, "or in any
 
 ANOTHER RELATIVE 15 
 
 that belong to him. He was so mean to 
 Mother before she died." 
 
 Sam was silent ; he and Dick had discussed 
 before the relations between Mrs. Ball and 
 her brother. " When I 'phoned to you," he 
 remarked after an interval in which both 
 boys idly watched a small dog that, having 
 lost its master, was making a great to-do over 
 the fact, " Thomas wouldn't tell me where 
 you were. He just kept saying that it was 
 his * scanctification ' that you were out." 
 
 " They had a new preacher at the African 
 Methodist Tabernacle last Sunday, he must 
 have used the word ' scanctification,' for ever 
 since then Thomas has been saying it all the 
 time. Don't you remember how he used to 
 say that everything was his 'jurisdiction'? 
 It was his 'jurisdiction ' that it was a cold 
 day, and his 'jurisdiction' that breakfast was 
 ready. Hey, George," hailing a passing bag- 
 gageman, " isn't that train late ? " 
 
 The baggageman pulled out his watch. 
 " Yep, about five minutes. Guess a mos- 
 quito's on the track." He paused for the 
 laugh which, for the past fifteen years, his 
 pet joke had seldom failed to earn. " Ha I
 
 16 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Ha I Yes, I guess a mosquito's on the track. 
 Waiting for some relations, Dick?" he asked, 
 with the familiarity of the small town. 
 
 " Yes," Dick answered shortly ; he was 
 growing rather sensitive about relatives. 
 
 " There's Dr. Huston over there," went on 
 the baggageman, not a bit abashed ; " he's 
 waiting for a doctor from the city, come down 
 to consult with him over old Mr. Henry 
 Morris, over on the Pike, he's pretty sick, 
 they say. Heart, you know. Comes from 
 livin' so many years in foreign countries, I 
 guess. Sakes I Think of the queer things 
 people eat in those outlandish places, no 
 wonder they get sick when they grow older. 
 And I don't want no city doctors, either 1 
 Old Dr. Huston is good enough for me, I tell 
 you what ! Why, the way he brought my 
 wife through that spell of lumbago, yes ; by 
 jingo, Miss Harkinson ! I did forget to check 
 that trunk ! S'long, boys." 
 
 Meanwhile, on the train that shuffled and 
 shook nearer and nearer to Renwyck's Town, 
 Margery Morris was sitting huddled into a 
 corner of the faded, plush-covered car-seat, 
 a thoroughly tired, cross, and resentful girl.
 
 ANOTHER RELATIVE 17 
 
 What a tiresome, pokey train it was ! And 
 what common, stupid-looking passengers 
 how could any sane person wear a hat as 
 hideous as that perched on the scant, sandy 
 locks of the woman in front of her ? She 
 supposed that woman was a fair sample of the 
 entire population of Renwyck's Town. 
 
 The brakeman went through the car light- 
 ing the oil lamps suspended from the ceiling. 
 " Renwyck's Town's next, I guess you'll be 
 glad," he remarked as he passed by. 
 
 Margery nodded coldly and pressed her face 
 closer to the window, staring out with unsee- 
 ing eyes at the melancholy brown fields. 
 
 " Well, anyway," she sulked, " I can dance 
 with the mosquitoes, and hobnob with the 
 whippoorwills. Oh, dear, why couldn't Mamma 
 and Papa have allowed me to spend the winter 
 with Marie Smythe? It was such a perfect in- 
 vitation I And we would have had so much 
 fun ! I don't see why, just because Papa and 
 Mamma had to go to Japan on business, I 
 have to be shipped on here like like a barrel 
 of oranges ! " ^ 
 
 The pretty, high-bred little face that would 
 have been so charming but for the haughty
 
 1 8 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 droop to the mouth grew more sullen and re- 
 sentful still. 
 
 " It mightn't have been so bad," she went 
 on scolding to herself, " if I had waited un- 
 til after Christmas to come East, as we had 
 planned." A long, gusty sigh stirred the 
 sandy locks of the woman in front of her. 
 
 Margery considered that it would have been 
 bad enough to have to go to Renwyck's Town 
 at all, without having to leave home at a mo- 
 ment's notice three months ahead of time, 
 merely because her father had decided that he 
 wanted to sail for Japan immediately. Busi- 
 ness could wait ! And the traveling com- 
 panions she had been given ! Her eyes filled 
 with tears as she thought of her tribulations 
 in traveling with a dull, middle-aged couple, 
 who, instead of escorting her all the way to 
 her grandfather's at Renwyck's Town, as had 
 been planned, must needs consign her to the 
 care of the train conductor, and rush off for 
 the Washington limited ; panic-stricken over 
 the news of their granddaughter's sudden ill- 
 ness at her boarding-school. 
 
 " Renwyck's Town ! Renwyck's Town 1 " 
 bawled the brakeman.
 
 ANOTHER RELATIVE 19 
 
 Her grumbling interrupted for the time 
 being, Margery gathered together her maga- 
 zines, bag and the big box of candy that poor 
 anxious Mr. Van Pelt had thrust into her 
 hand as he put her on the train. 
 
 The arrival of the afternoon train at Ren- 
 wyck's Town was a social event, and a jolly 
 crowd waited on the platform to welcome 
 friends and relatives. Rather dazed by the 
 hubbub, Margery stood stock-still, very much 
 in the way, to the annoyance of a dressy young 
 woman who was eagerly hailing some one as 
 " stranger." Margery gazed at her scornfully, 
 a gaze that was suddenly obliterated when a 
 fat woman bumped into her and knocked her 
 hat down over her eyes, while at the same time 
 a rosy-faced boy walked over her feet in his 
 enthusiasm at meeting some one he called 
 " Uncle Jack." Straightening her hat as well 
 as she could for hands occupied with umbrella, 
 magazines, candy and valise, she limped to 
 one side of the platform and looked about her 
 for her grandfather. 
 
 But where was he? With a worried frown, 
 her eyes eagerly searched the little crowd. ( 
 A tall, white-haired old man with a kind, sad
 
 20 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 face hurried forward. This was he? No, 
 he greeted a pompous, well-dressed man who 
 carried a surgeon's bag, and who hailed him as 
 " Dr. Huston," and they went away together. 
 
 Margery drew back and looked about her 
 almost with despair, oh, why didn't he 
 come? The platform was practically empty 
 now, where could he be? She wished that 
 tall boy with the funny cap on the back of 
 his head would stop staring at her so ; why 
 didn't her grandfather come ? 
 
 " Well," she thought wearily, " I shall have 
 to go to the station-master and see if he can 
 get me a carriage to take me to Grandpapa's 
 house." Picking up her bag, she started 
 toward the ticket office. 
 
 " Pardon me, but aren't you Miss Morris? " 
 Dick stepped forward and lifting his cap, 
 clutched it as though it were a life preserver. 
 
 " Yes," said Margery. 
 
 " Thought you were," and Dick took her 
 bag, and attempted to take the box of choco- 
 lates, which he promptly dropped. 
 
 " Yes, I am Margaret Morris I'm looking 
 for my grandfather, Mr. Morris," explained 
 Margery, in her distress more affable than
 
 ANOTHER RELATIVE 21 
 
 she would ordinarily have deigned to be. " I 
 wonder if you happen to know him and to 
 have seen him about the station. I thought 
 surely that he would come to meet me." 
 
 Dick finished scrambling for the candy and 
 stood up, looking rather red and embarrassed. 
 Just like a girl to have things that would 
 spill all over creation I 
 
 " Yes," he said briefly ; " he's away." 
 
 " Away ? " Margery's knees wobbled and 
 she felt queer and breathless. " Away? " she 
 repeated. 
 
 " We got your telegram all right, though, 
 and I've come to meet you." 
 
 " But what shall I do?" 
 
 " Oh, that's all right. He'll be back soon 
 and there's Deborah, the housekeeper, you 
 know, to make you comfortable. Have you 
 got your trunk checks ? Thanks. Here, 
 George send these out to the farm, won't 
 you ? The carriage is waiting out in front of 
 the station," he finished in a businesslike 
 manner, turning to Margery. " Come on."
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 DICK EXPLAINS 
 
 TIRED and dazed, Margery stumbled along 
 the platform after Dick to the front of the 
 station. 
 
 "There's Benjamin," and Dick nodded 
 toward a runabout in which sat a handsome 
 little boy about seven years old. " Climb in 
 while I unhitch, the horse doesn't stand very 
 well." 
 
 As he caught sight of them, the little lad 
 stood up and grabbed his cap from his curly 
 head. " I'm awful glad you've come," he 
 cried gleefully, holding out his hand, "just 
 awful glad ! An' please 'scuse my hand being 
 dirty," he added with equal cheerfulness, 
 " 'cause I forgot to wash it." 
 
 It was quite evident that he had forgotten 
 to wash it, and disregarding the proffered 
 hand, Margery climbed into the runabout. 
 Dick unhitched the horse and jumped in 
 
 22
 
 DICK EXPLAINS 23 
 
 beside her, while Benjamin settled down at 
 their feet. 
 
 A rapid drive through a wide, pleasant 
 street bordered with quaint red-brick houses, 
 a sedate amble across an old covered bridge, 
 where a sign urged them to " keep to the 
 right, as the law directs," and they were out 
 in the country, a gentle country of broad 
 meadows and white roads lined with willows, 
 silvery now in the twilight. 
 
 Its soft melancholy beauty was lost on 
 Margery, who sat staring straight ahead at 
 the horse's ears, absorbed in disappointment 
 at her grandfather's absence. She felt indig- 
 nant, too. She was used to being treated as a 
 person of importance ; and now to be received 
 in this haphazard fashion. Grandpapa had 
 no right to be away I 
 
 " Rather unexpected, your coming, wasn't 
 it? " Dick's voice broke in upon her revery. 
 
 " Rather." 
 
 Who were these boys who had come to 
 meet her? Margery turned to Dick. "You're 
 the stable-boy, I suppose?" she remarked 
 tentatively. 
 
 " Stable-boy nothing I I'm Dick."
 
 24 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 "Dick?" 
 
 " Yes, your Cousin Dick." 
 
 " Cousin f " 
 
 " Yes, I'm Richard Ball." 
 
 " But I never heard of you ! How can you 
 be my cousin ? " 
 
 " But you've heard of me ? " Benjamin 
 was evidently quite certain that nobody could 
 possibly have lived to be Margery's age with- 
 out having heard of so important a person as 
 Benjamin. " My name is Benjamin Carson 
 Ball." 
 
 " No. I never heard of either of you." 
 
 " I am not surprised," put in Dick, quietly. 
 " Mother and your father weren't on very 
 good terms before she died seven years ago." 
 The little note of sadness that always came at 
 the mention of his mother crept into Dick's 
 voice. 
 
 Her cousins I " Mother and your father 
 weren't on very good terms." What did it 
 all mean? Margery put out her hand and 
 clutched at the reins as though to seize upon 
 reason itself. 
 
 "Hello! What did you do that for?" 
 'asked Dick, astonished. "First thing you
 
 DICK EXPLAINS 25 
 
 know, we'll have a runaway," he added as 
 politely, but firmly, he loosened her hand. 
 
 Margery gazed at him uncomprehendingly, 
 her mind engulfed by this bewildering new 
 thought : her cousins? Dick Ball? Benjamin 
 Ball? Had she ever heard of them? Surely 
 not I She racked her brain ; frowning at the 
 unoffending dash-board, she admitted to her- 
 self that she had paid wonderfully little 
 attention to what her father had to say of 
 friends and relatives in the East. But surely 
 she would have remembered something about 
 her cousins. Oh, yes, she remembered now. 
 Aunt Margaret had died when Margery was 
 very young, and Mamma had worn black for 
 a while, and little Margery had cried for her 
 to take it off; Aunt Margaret must have been 
 the boys' mother. Had she ever heard of Aunt 
 Margaret's boys,-^-she could not remember. 
 
 " Do you live in Renwyck's Town ? " she 
 asked. 
 
 " Yes, with Grandfather." 
 
 "You do?" 
 
 " Yes, ever since Father died." 
 
 "But Grandpapa never talks about you in 
 his letters ! "
 
 26 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Dick tightened the reins. " Your father 
 doesn't seem to approve of our being here," he 
 said in a low voice. " At least he doesn't ap- 
 prove of my being here. I suppose he thinks 
 that I ought to go to work. I am going to 
 work," he added proudly, "just as soon as 
 I'm through school." 
 
 " Our fathers didn't like each other a bit," 
 piped up Benjamin from his place at her feet. 
 " But I don't think that we ought to 'scuss 
 the matter." 
 
 " I'm sure that Papa was right, anyway," 
 was Margery's ungracious response to the 
 friendly little fellow's speech. She had really 
 no conviction that her father was right ; in 
 fact, after the ruthless way in which he had 
 torn her from the arms of her beloved Marie 
 Smythe, she was prepared to think him 
 wrong in everything. The spirit of perverse- 
 ness had entered into her soul, and she told 
 herself that she was not going to give in to 
 anybody ; least of all, to this queer, big country- 
 boy. 
 
 There was much that was winning about 
 Dick's clear, steady blue eyes, and the clean 
 cut of his resolute chin ; in a less querulous
 
 DICK EXPLAINS 27 
 
 mood, Margery might have admitted that he 
 was a handsome, manly cousin to be proud of ; 
 but as it was, stealing a look at him from the 
 corner of her eye, she merely noted that his 
 sweater was a particularly ugly affair. " Com- 
 mon-looking, like a butcher boy's," she told 
 herself, shudderingly. The broad shoulders 
 which Dick's mates and Dick himself, if the 
 truth must be told found so admirable, she 
 despised as taking up more than their share 
 of room in the narrow runabout. 
 
 " Rather unexpected, your coming, wasn't 
 it ? " asked Dick, harking back to the begin- 
 ning of their conversation. 
 
 " Yes," answered Margery, more communi- 
 cative this time. " I didn't expect to come un- 
 til January. Papa and Mamma have gone to 
 Japan on business, you know. They wouldn't 
 take me, because they didn't want me to miss 
 so much school. I had to drop out of school 
 most of last winter, I outgrew my strength, 
 the doctor said. I mightn't have minded it 
 so much if I could have waited until after 
 Christmas, but Papa found that he had to go 
 earlier, they sailed yesterday. I came East 
 with Mr. and Mrs. Van Pelt, unfortunately
 
 28 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 they happened to be coming, so there was no 
 escape for poor Margery." 
 
 Dick switched off the top of a roadside weed 
 with his whip. " Hmmm," he said thought- 
 fully, " did you write to Grandfather ? " 
 
 " Papa did." 
 
 " Well, I guess it's all right. I forwarded 
 a lot of mail to Grandfather yesterday, I was 
 in too much of a hurry to notice particularly 
 where the letters were from." 
 
 " Of course, it's all right." Margery's tone 
 was rather sharp. " But it's awful having 
 Grandpapa away. Where is he?" 
 
 " Canada, Northwestern Territory. He's 
 looking after some farms he has bought up 
 there for an investment. He thinks that 
 there is a mighty big future in Canada, and 
 that eventually ..." 
 
 " It was bad enough, anyway," interrupted 
 Margery, not at all interested in the future of 
 Canada, and very much interested in the pres- 
 ent and Margery, " to have to come here, 
 without having Grandpapa away. I don't 
 think that he ought to have gone, though I 
 suppose that he didn't know I was coming so 
 soon," she added justly.
 
 DICK EXPLAINS 29 
 
 Benjamin twisted around, planting his knee 
 firmly on Margery's instep. " Why, Cousin 
 Margaret, you sound as though you didn't 
 want to come, didn't you ? " he asked, aston- 
 ished. " Why, Renwyck's Town is just a per- 
 feckly lovely place ! " 
 
 " Ouch I You're on my foot. No, I didn't 
 want to come, one little bit. I had a simply 
 perfect invitation to spend the whole winter 
 with my best friend, Marie Smythe. Her 
 mother asked me to stay with them while 
 Papa and Mamma are away. Marie and I 
 would have gone to school, and dancing-class, 
 and our riding-lessons, and everything, to- 
 gether. Marie has two older sisters ; one of 
 them was a debutante last year, and the other 
 is coming out this year. They have awfully 
 gay times, and it would have been such fun 
 to see it all. Marie gets up and sneaks down- 
 stairs to watch what's going on whenever they 
 have people there, often she doesn't get to 
 bed before twelve and half-past. Mamma 
 always makes me go to bed at half-past eight, 
 think of it, half-past eight ! And Marie en- 
 tertains just lots herself, but Papa wouldn't 
 let me accept the invitation, and insisted that
 
 30 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 I spend the winter with Grandpapa, so here 
 I am ! " 
 
 " Perhaps you can persuade your father to 
 let you go back there yet," suggested Dick, 
 with a sudden spasm of animation. 
 
 Margery was not too self-absorbed to miss 
 the strong note of hope in Dick's voice ; and 
 she resented it. But he had suggested a de- 
 lightful idea ; perhaps she could persuade her 
 father to let her spend the winter with Marie, 
 after all I Meanwhile, she wished that the 
 horrid little boy wouldn't sit on her feet ; she 
 wished that the big boy wasn't so " queer," 
 and that he didn't take up so much room. 
 Anybody ought to be able to drive a quiet old 
 horse like that without ramming his elbow 
 into people's ribs! She wished that the road 
 didn't lead through such a dark and dreary 
 stretch of pine woods. She leaned back, and 
 composed herself for a thorough fit of ill- 
 humor. 
 
 Margery was rather proud of her ability in 
 that respect. Marie Smythe often declared 
 that such extreme sensitiveness to the bumps 
 of life denoted unusual refinement and tem- 
 perament. Margery's father, with parental
 
 DICK EXPLAINS 31 
 
 frankness, had a way, however, of referring to 
 this sensibility as "grouchiness " ; Margery, 
 although she admitted that her father had 
 many good qualities, and of late an astonish- 
 ing capacity for making money, felt that at 
 times he verged on vulgarity. 
 
 Dick and Benjamin were silent ; as the 
 carriage jogged along, Margery's tired eyes 
 closed, and her tired head under the smart 
 hat nodded wearily. 
 
 " There's the house ! " cried Benjamin, sud- 
 denly, and very wide awake at once, Margery 
 straightened up and looked about her.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AT THE FARM 
 
 THEY turned in between two whitewashed 
 gate-posts ; through the dusk Margery could 
 discern a fine old brick mansion with a high 
 white portico, standing at the end of a drive- 
 way lined with pine trees. Lamplight gleamed 
 through the lower windows and the wide 
 front door, left hospitably open, out across a 
 strip of lawn and big beds of scarlet sage, still 
 untouched by frost. It was plainly the setting 
 for easy, comfortable, old-fashioned living, far 
 removed from the rush and turmoil of modern 
 life. 
 
 As Margery stepped from the carriage, a 
 little woman with a sweet, patient old face 
 came hurrying out of the house. 
 
 " So this is Miss Margaret Morris," she re- 
 marked in a quaint, prim little manner, her 
 head tipped to one side like a bird's. 
 
 " Yes," Margery returned limply. 
 
 " Mr. Morris is away on business, but the 
 32
 
 AT THE FARM 33 
 
 boys and I are glad to make you welcome. I 
 am Deborah Davis, the housekeeper, you 
 know. I'll take you to your room right off; 
 then supper will be ready in a few minutes. 
 I guess you're real hungry." 
 
 Margery vouchsafed no answer, and the 
 housekeeper, after a quick, somewhat sur- 
 prised glance at her, silently led the way up 
 the steep, old-fashioned flight of stairs, across 
 a wide hall, and along a narrow, dark passage- 
 way to a door at the end, which she swung 
 open. Margery was pleasantly conscious of a 
 clean, fresh smell as of linen and blankets 
 that had been folded away in lavender, but 
 beyond a huge, white-canopied bed, her eyes 
 could make out but little in the dim room. 
 
 " Wait," said the housekeeper, "until I light 
 the lamp. I didn't light it before, for fear it 
 might go up and smoke the walls." 
 
 The lighted lamp disclosed to view a hand- 
 some, stiff room filled with the heavy ma- 
 hogany furniture of the late forties. The bed 
 belonged to an earlier period, and reared its 
 tall, carved posts and white dimity canopy 
 toward the ceiling with an air of conscious 
 elegance. Margery looked at it with critical
 
 34 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 but approving eyes ; she knew the value of 
 such antique furniture. 
 
 She pitched her hat onto the bed and began 
 to take off her jacket, then paused uncertainly. 
 " The heat must be turned off," she shivered, 
 " it's very chilly in here. Will you turn it 
 on, please, Deborah you said your name was 
 Deborah, didn't you ? " 
 
 Deborah lowered a window shade until it 
 was on the exact level of its fellow. " Yes, 
 Deborah Davis," she said cheerfully. " I'm 
 afraid it is chilly here you see, the furnace 
 doesn't heat this part of the house. I'll try 
 to have the stove put up some time next week. 
 If we had only known that you were coming 
 we should have had things ready for you. 
 But we will make you as comfortable as we 
 can. I'll have to go down now. There's 
 fresh water in the pitcher on the wash-stand, 
 and clean towels. Supper will be ready in a 
 minute, so perhaps you had better get ready." 
 
 Left alone, Margery plumped down tragic- 
 ally on the side of the bed, ruthlessly rum- 
 pling the heavy Marseilles counterpane. No 
 heat ! Why, she would die I Of course she 
 vrould ! Surely her grandfather wouldn't
 
 AT THE FARM 35 
 
 have allowed her to be put in a barn of a 
 room like this if he had been home. Well, 
 if she took pneumonia and died, Papa and 
 Mamma would be sorry then 1 They would 
 wish, after she was dead, that they had been 
 a little more anxious to please her. And 
 what would Marie Smythe say if she could 
 see her now, and see those dreadful new 
 cousins of hers? At the thought of Marie's 
 critical brown eyes surveying Dick's sweater 
 Margery almost groaned. 
 
 " Supper, Cousin Margaret,'* called a voice, 
 which Margery recognized as Benjamin's. 
 
 Hastily slapping at her curls with a hair- 
 brush and polishing off the middle of her face 
 with the wet end of a towel, Margery hurried 
 down-stairs, finding her way with difficulty. 
 At the back of the wide lower hall two steps 
 led down to the dining-room where Deborah 
 and the boys were waiting for her. 
 
 The country supper, with its platters of 
 fried chicken and sweet potatoes, its tall 
 pitchers of fresh milk, and the molds of 
 delicate pink crab-apple jelly, was really 
 wonderfully good. But Margery, while she 
 ate hungrily of it, could not help feeling how
 
 36 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 shocked Marie Smythe would be at the 
 informal, not to say haphazard, way in which 
 everything was served. 
 
 The boys, too, Margery felt, would have 
 earned Marie's disgust. Benjamin apparently 
 considered, when he had apologized at the 
 station for his dirty hands, that he had done 
 everything for them that was needful, and 
 they still were of a griminess wonderful to 
 see. Dick had had a violent, although 
 friendly, tussle with another boy earlier in 
 the day, and his collar bore evidence to the 
 fact. He ate a good deal, very rapidly, and 
 said little, plainly rather bored at the advent 
 of another visitor, and one who added insult 
 to injury by being a girl, and a rather un- 
 gracious girl, at that. Deborah made an ef- 
 fort to talk, and asked Margery a few ques- 
 tions about her journey, but Margery, feeling 
 that the elegant Marie would consider it the 
 acme of bad taste to dine with " a servant," 
 answered her with a distance designed not 
 only to " put her in her place," but to keep 
 her there permanently. 
 
 The door opened, and a white-haired old 
 negro came in with a fresh platter of chicken.
 
 AT THE FARM 37 
 
 " Des try a little moh of dis yere yard-bihd," 
 he urged, standing beside Margery's chair. 
 " Ah is Thomas, ah rar'ly waits on de table, 
 but de young lady strangahs widin de gates 
 gits mah best scanctification." 
 
 " That will do, Thomas," said the house- 
 keeper, hastily. 
 
 Margery's spirits revived a little at Thomas's 
 entrance. After all, it was like the books to 
 have " an old family retainer " ; life at her 
 grandfather's might prove to be rather 
 romantic, even if it was pokey and uncom- 
 fortable, infested by boy-cousins, and talkative 
 housekeepers. She would write to Marie 
 about Thomas. 
 
 Benjamin, who had been staring at Margery 
 as though she were an ichthyosaurus, or some 
 other prehistoric animal newly returned to 
 earth, suddenly broke the silence with : 
 
 " There must be lots of Indians, and bears, 
 and wolves around your ranch." 
 
 " Oh, mercy no. California is perfectly 
 civilized, as much so as it is here. Besides, 
 we don't go out to the ranch very often." 
 
 " California ? " queried Dick. " I thought 
 that you lived in Texas."
 
 38 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " No, indeed. California." 
 
 " Isn't that funny, I was sure it was Texas. 
 Always get them mixed, anyway," and Dick 
 thoughtfully rolled the remains of his bread 
 into neat little pills. " Whom do you look 
 like ? " he exploded suddenly. 
 
 " My hair is like Mamma's, but my eyes 
 and features are like Papa's." 
 
 " Do they still call you Bunnie ? " 
 
 " They never called me Bunnie. They 
 call me Margery. When I was little I used 
 to insist that my name was ' Dear,' and I 
 wouldn't answer to anything else. Perhaps 
 you were thinking of that." 
 
 " Humph," said Dick, as he filliped one of 
 the bread pills at Benjamin, in spite of 
 Deborah's warning head-shake. 
 
 After supper Benjamin challenged Margery 
 to a game of checkers, and Dick got out a 
 bottle of ink to begin a letter. If one 
 could judge from the contortions with which, 
 in the agony of composition, he wrapped 
 his long legs around the rungs of his chair, 
 letter writing was not a favorite art with 
 Dick. 
 
 " Whom are you writing to, Dick ? " Ben-
 
 AT THE FARM 39 
 
 jamin asked as he captured two of Margery's 
 
 men." 
 
 " Grandfather." 
 
 11 Give him my love," put in Margery, with 
 a brave attempt at airiness. She was feeling 
 anything but debonair ; the tears had come 
 very near the surface, and her efforts at 
 checker-playing grew more and more careless 
 and erratic. 
 
 Her kindly little opponent, seeing her 
 distress, forbore to capture her unguarded 
 " king," and leaning across the table, said 
 softly, " I think I'm going to love you awful 
 much, Cousin Margaret, you're so pretty. 
 I never had anybody so pretty to love before. 
 Deborah's awful nice, but she's old, and not 
 nearly so pretty." 
 
 Benjamin's tact almost unnerved Margery, 
 and the stately young lady suddenly became 
 a tired, homesick little girl. With trembling 
 lips she announced that she would like to go 
 to bed. 
 
 " Wait a minute, I'll call Deborah," Dick 
 said kindly, and took down a small lamp from 
 the high mantel-shelf. 
 
 11 Your room is rather apart from the others,"
 
 40 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 the housekeeper observed, as lamp in hand 
 she led the way up the stairs and down the 
 narrow eerie passageway, " but you're perfectly 
 safe here, and I'm within call if you want 
 anything." She set the little lamp down on 
 the bureau from which it timidly lighted up 
 a small corner of the big, dark room. " You're 
 not nervous, are you ? " 
 
 " N-no," shivered Margery, " but I'm cold." 
 
 " It is chilly here you'd better hurry and 
 undress as fast as you can. You'll be warm 
 as soon as you are in bed. I put the winter 
 blankets on, and that down quilt is fine 
 and warm." Deborah did not add that she 
 had taken it off her own bed, in order 
 that the little stranger's comfort might be en- 
 sured. 
 
 Margery sat down in a big rush-bottomed 
 rocker, and kicked off her tan oxfords. Deb- 
 orah stood waiting uncertainly, but as Mar- 
 gery said nothing and was evidently anxious 
 to be alone, she quietly turned down the 
 bedclothes, and spread the quilt over the foot 
 of the bed. 
 
 " Now ! If there isn't anything more I can 
 do for you, I think that I'll go down-stairs.
 
 AT THE FARM 41 
 
 Be sure to raise the south window the other 
 one opens onto the porch roof. I'll call you 
 in the morning. Good-night." 
 
 She went out, closing the door after her, 
 and with a sob that began at her toes and 
 went all the way up to her throat, where it 
 clutched her tight, Margery began hurriedly 
 to undress. She undid her clothes, pulling 
 off a vital button or two in her haste, and 
 walked out of them, leaving them in a little 
 heap in the middle of the floor. As she tied 
 the pink ribbon on her nightgown, the fare- 
 well promise that she had made to her mother 
 to be " very, very neat " occurred to her. A 
 promise was a promise to Margery, a thing to 
 be kept sacredly, however great the incon- 
 venience or cost. With all her absurdities 
 and faults Margery had that rigid sense of 
 honor, which, alas, we associate more with 
 boys than with girls. Shivering, and sobbing 
 bitterly, she pulled her frock from the heap 
 of huddled garments, and stumbled toward 
 the cupboard to hang it up. 
 
 The closet door stuck, and she had to brace 
 her knee against the door-jamb before she 
 could wrench it open. As with a final tug
 
 42 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 the heavy door swung open on its protesting 
 hinges, there was a rustle in the depths of the 
 great closet and something moved. 
 
 With a scream, Margery slammed the door 
 to, and sank back. Crouching against the 
 bed, her eyes wide with horror, she stared 
 motionless at the door. Who was in that cup- 
 board ? What could she do ? If she shrieked 
 for help the others down-stairs could not hear 
 her. And soon the door would open slowly, 
 slowly, and the something that was back of it 
 would get her by the throat and . . . She 
 shuddered and hid her face in her shaking 
 hands. 
 
 But Margery was not a coward ; after the 
 first recoil of horror, she pulled herself to- 
 gether and bravely considered the situation. 
 
 Well, she decided, she would not submit to 
 being coldly murdered, no matter how much 
 it might please them ! If there was a mur- 
 derer in the room she would fight him while 
 there was a last gasp of breath left in her 
 body. Stealthily, she rose to her feet. A 
 glance toward the hall door ; it was bolted 
 with a heavy, old-fashioned bolt that had 
 creaked and groaned when she had fastened
 
 AT THE FARM 43 
 
 it after Deborah still she might be able to 
 . . . The lamp ! she would fling it at the 
 murderer if he tried to grab her as she un- 
 bolted the door, and then, shrieking, she 
 would dash along the passage to the stairs. 
 She stole across the room to the little lamp, 
 her bare feet making no sound. 
 
 Something stirred again within the closet, 
 and she paused, the lamp held high. Then 
 from within the cupboard's depths came a 
 faint, but unmistakable : 
 
 " Me-o-uw." 
 
 Putting down the lamp, she sprang across 
 the room and opened the closet door again. 
 " Scat I " she cried, and a whirlwind of yellow 
 fur streaked under the bed. 
 
 Half-laughing, half-sobbing, she opened the 
 hall door, and with the aid of her umbrella, 
 persuaded the big old tortoise-shell cat skulk- 
 ing under the bed to depart. 
 
 " Oh, dear," she sighed, " I'd think it was 
 funny if I were home. I wonder how long 
 that poor cat's been shut up there. Oh, dear, 
 it is funny 1 " 
 
 With a feeble giggle she blew out the light 
 and bounded into the middle of the great cav-
 
 44 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 ernous bed, pulling the bedclothes up over her 
 head. But her fright had made her nervous, 
 and she could not get to sleep ; nor could she 
 indulge in the glorious fit of crying which she 
 had been promising to herself all the evening. 
 Wide-eyed and wide-awake, she thought of all 
 the dreadful stories that she had ever heard 
 of people being walled up alive in dun- 
 geons ; of the Man With the Iron Mask, 
 of Marie Antoinette, whose hair turned white 
 in a single night. If she lived until morn- 
 ing she knew that her hair would be snow 
 white. 
 
 She stuck her nose out from under the bed- 
 clothes for air, and rolled over on her side, im- 
 patiently reviewing a conversation that she 
 had overheard a few nights before she left 
 home. Her father and mother had been talk- 
 ing in the room next to hers ; Margery, too 
 sleepy and too indifferent to remind them of 
 her presence, had perforce heard something of 
 their colloquy. 
 
 " You may give a child everything," Mar- 
 gery had heard her mother declare. " Money, 
 and position, and education, all the material 
 things but you don't seem to be able to give
 
 AT THE FARM 45 
 
 it the things of the soul however hard you 
 try. That's the heartrending part." 
 
 " Oh, come, my dear, cheer up. Margery 
 isn't so bad." Margery had grown rather 
 more awake at this. " Papa," she had called. 
 " I'm awake in here ; " but her father had 
 gone on talking. 
 
 " It's partly our own fault. We've sent her 
 to a regular sausage machine of a school : put 
 in a live child at one end ; bring out a dead 
 snob at the other. And then we have allowed 
 her to select as her chosen friend that ridicu- 
 lous Marie Smythe. Marie Smythe, what a 
 name ! I can see, though, why she has a fas- 
 cination for Margery she's so much more 
 worldly wise, so old for her years. I can re- 
 member my own admiration for the bad little 
 boy who taught me to smoke corn-silk ciga- 
 rettes ! Margery has a fine nature underneath 
 her nonsense ; she was a dear, lovable little 
 thing and she is honorable and truthful to a 
 degree now, and she's not a coward. You've 
 planted the seeds of character well, and the 
 flowers are there, j ust the same, though now they 
 are growing under the snow. But some day 
 the snow will melt. Remember the old lines : %
 
 46 M4RGERT MORRIS 
 
 lt l You can glad your child, or grieve it, 
 You can trust it or deceive it, 
 When all's done, 
 Beneath God's sun, 
 You can only love and leave it.'" 
 
 " Yes," Mrs. Morris had said wistfully, 
 " perhaps, as you say, some turn of fate, some 
 piece of hardness endured, will give her the 
 thing I desire for her more than any riches, 
 any talent : a happy, brave and valiant heart. 
 This separation this winter almost breaks my 
 heart I I feel that I couldn't endure it if it 
 were not for the hope that perhaps the simpler 
 life, the being away from us, may help her. 
 Yes, Margery dear, what is it? You want the 
 door closed? You're trying to get to sleep? 
 Very well, dear." 
 
 " Well," thought Margery, as she finished 
 reviewing the conversation, " I'm sure if they 
 could see me now they ought to be satisfied I 
 I'm sure I'm enduring hardness enough ; get- 
 ting all scared up with cats and having no 
 fire in my room and having a horrid little 
 boy sit on my feet and and being neg- 
 lected by my grandfather, and . . ." 
 
 And Margery dropped off to sleep at last, her 
 heart by no means happy, valiant, or kindly.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 DEBORAH 
 
 " GOOD-MORNING ; how did you sleep ? " asked 
 Deborah as Margery came down-stairs to break- 
 fast at half-past eleven the next morning. 
 " We have breakfast at seven, usually but I 
 didn't call you, for I knew that you must be 
 tired after your long journey and it's always 
 hard to get to sleep and a good night's rest 
 in a strange bed." 
 
 Margery groaned inwardly at the thought 
 of a whole winter of early breakfasts stretch- 
 ing endlessly before her, but she accepted a 
 bowl of bread and milk without comment and 
 curled up in a big rocking-chair to take it 
 slowly. The little housekeeper went on busily 
 with her darning ; now and then she glanced 
 up as though she would like to talk, but 
 Margery resolved not to encourage her, and 
 ate away at her bread and milk in an impress- 
 ive and dignified silence. Alas for Margery's 
 dignity, with the final spoonful she curled 
 
 47
 
 48 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 her feet up under her and settled back in the 
 roomy old chair ; too far back, for the chair 
 tipped suddenly on its old-fashioned short 
 rockers ; Margery's feet flew out in a frantic 
 effort to reach the floor, as with a startled 
 squawk she grasped at the air. 
 
 Deborah reached out her hand, and placed 
 it steadyingly on the arm of the chair. 
 " You won't go over," she laughed. " That 
 chair's terrible tricky, but it never goes all 
 the way over. It's the short rockers ; all 
 the old rocking-chairs were made that way. 
 They all have such short rockers that they 
 don't balance properly. I've had a good 
 many laughs out of that chair. When I 
 first came here, the Baptist minister's wife 
 came to call. She's one of these formal 
 women who would put on a bonnet and 
 gloves to go out and call home the cows. 
 It was a real chilly day when she came 
 here ; one of those spring days that go right 
 through you. As I had a fire in the grate 
 here, we sat in this room, though I could 
 see she didn't approve of sitting in the 
 dining-room for a first call. To make mat- 
 ters worse, she sat in that chair. The first
 
 DEBORAH 49 
 
 thing I knew, she was shrieking, her feet 
 were sticking straight out, her arms were 
 waving round, and she was thinking that 
 she was going over, sure ! She was so an- 
 noyed and disgusted at me and the chair 
 that I had an awful time to make peace ; 
 it took a lot of rubbing camphor on her 
 forehead, and fanning, and fruit cake, to 
 bring her round." 
 
 Margery laughed in spite of herself as she 
 climbed out of the treacherous chair, and put 
 down the empty bowl on the table. 
 
 " If you are through now," said Deborah, 
 " you can go up-stairs and make your bed 
 you needn't turn the feather-bed to-day." 
 
 With an air that would have done credit 
 to the most chastened and resigned of early 
 Christian martyrs, Margery left the room. 
 Seven o'clock breakfasts and making beds ! 
 she supposed that she would have to milk the 
 cows next. 
 
 As she went along the hall, she passed the 
 library door ; on an impulse she opened it 
 and peeped in. The cheerful disorder of the 
 evening before had been cleared away, and 
 in the cold morning light streaming in
 
 50 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 through the long front windows, the room 
 looked very prim and substantial, and to 
 Margery dreary. She closed the library door 
 and opened the one directly across the hall. 
 This room, a little less substantial and rather 
 more elegant, was evidently the parlor, sa- 
 credly best. A row of really fine old ma- 
 hogany chairs was ranged solemnly and 
 stiffly along the walls, a mahogany table 
 stood squarely in the center of the room ; 
 but the thing that caught and held Mar- 
 gery's eyes was the pictorial wall-paper, 
 portraying the evidently unhappy love af- 
 fairs of some medieval lady, which had been 
 imported from France about the time that 
 Europe was commencing to enjoy a well- 
 earned repose after the activities of the great 
 Napoleon. Depressed by the stiff grandeur 
 and cold closeness of this state apartment, 
 Margery closed the door and started up-stairs. 
 " Grandpapa's house is exactly what I ex- 
 pected it to be," she thought drearily. " Stiff 
 and country and gloomy, and I suppose life 
 here will be just to match. I wonder why," 
 she added fretfully, " anybody who has trav- 
 eled so much should have so few things that
 
 DEBORAH 51 
 
 are travelly and interesting about except 
 for those snow-shoes and bows and arrows 
 there on the wall, Grandpapa might never 
 have been out of Renwyck's Town." 
 
 She gave a little laugh of exasperation as 
 she thought of her mother's efforts to cast 
 a glamour over the winter she was to spend 
 in Renwyck's Town. How sure she had been 
 that everything would be gay and bright and 
 her grandfather the most delightful of com- 
 rades, worth a dozen Marie Smythes. What 
 surprises she had suggested might be hidden 
 away for her there in Renwyck's Town, wait- 
 ing her coming. " Oh," said Margery, as she 
 reached the top step, " of course, I had for- 
 gotten about the surprises they must be 
 Dick and Benjamin ! Of course ! wasn't I 
 dumb not to think of that ! ' Dear little com- 
 rades ' for me to play with ! " 
 
 Poor Mamma ! How hard she did work to 
 find the silver lining to every dark cloud. 
 What enthusiastic praise she had wasted over 
 the charms of taking milk and eggs, and cod- 
 liver oil, and going to bed early, and study- 
 ing algebra, and all the other things in life 
 that Margery found distasteful. If she were
 
 52 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 here, what pleasures she would try to dis- 
 cover, for Margery, in seven o'clock break- 
 fasts on dark, icy mornings. 
 
 " Well," concluded Margery, " I might just 
 as well make that old bed a little bit more 
 horridness won't make much difference." 
 Stripping the covers off the bed, she began 
 listlessly to remake it. Occasionally, when 
 she was rather younger, and very much less 
 dignified, she had helped the chambermaid 
 at home to thump the pillows or spread the 
 sheets on her own narrow white bed, but this 
 colossal old ark was a very different affair. 
 Toss and tug the bedclothes as best she could, 
 they still persisted in trailing forlornly on one 
 side or the other ; strange lumps rose up un- 
 expectedly, and as fast as she smoothed out 
 one wrinkle, another appeared. In spite of 
 herself she became interested in those lumps 
 and wrinkles ; there was fascination in their 
 very ability to tantalize. It was a triumph 
 when she could force them to subside and 
 could make the bed all smooth and even on 
 the top ; fun to plump up the big fat pillows 
 in their absurdly braided old pillow-cases, and 
 to roll up the puffy down quilt in its funny
 
 DEBORAH 53 
 
 patchwork cover, and put it neatly at the foot 
 of the bed ; best of all to have the happy sense 
 of achievement. 
 
 " It really looks very nice," she gasped, as, 
 Marie Smythe and her various grievances 
 quite forgotten, she stood off with critical 
 head tilted to one side to admire her handi- 
 work, " it really does." And indeed, it did, 
 although as she found out that night when 
 she went to bed the blankets were neatly 
 sandwiched between the sheets. 
 
 Just as she gave her handiwork a last pat, 
 her trunks arrived and Deborah came up- 
 stairs to help her to unpack them. " My, 
 that bed looks nice, it's a hard one to make, 
 too," she admired, and Margery smiled quite 
 pleasantly as she got out her keys and un- 
 locked the trunks. 
 
 With careless hands she was tossing out her 
 clothes onto bed and chairs, when a soft gasp 
 made her turn. There stood Deborah gently 
 stroking a little shell pink muslin she had 
 spread out on the bed. " Isn't it lovely," she 
 murmured, " isn't it just like a flower, a 
 sweet pea, or maybe a rosebud. And soft as a 
 baby's cheek, too. I do love pink," she ex-
 
 54 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 plained, blushing faintly. " When I was a 
 girl I longed for a dainty pink cobweb like 
 this one. But I never got it." 
 
 Margery sat back on her heels, and con- 
 templated Deborah ; anybody who had never 
 had a pink dress was rather interesting. 
 " But why didn't you ? " she queried. 
 " Both my older sisters had red hair." 
 " But what had their red hair to do with it?" 
 Deborah laughed. " I guess you don't 
 know much about big families. We only got 
 a new dress about once in so often, and then 
 my sisters had the first choice which was 
 only right, you see, as they were older. Hav- 
 ing red hair they naturally took blue. I never 
 was very partial to blue, and unless it's a good 
 dark blue, it does get kind of streaky and 
 faded by the time it gets down to a third 
 sister." 
 
 Margery undid a patent leather pump from 
 its tissue-paper wrappings, and put it down 
 on the floor beside her. " And didn't you 
 even once have a pink dress ? " she asked. 
 That any one should have to do without such 
 a trifling thing as a pink dress seemed almost 
 unbelievable to her.
 
 DEBORAH 55 
 
 " No." Deborah slipped the frock on a 
 hanger and hung it in the cupboard. " There, 
 I hung it well back where the light won't get 
 at it and fade it. No, I never once got a pink 
 dress I did save up the money for it several 
 times. Once when I was about your age I 
 picked berries all one July for old Farmer 
 Weygandt ; he was powerfully cross and 
 stingy, too. And a couple of other times I 
 made some money for it doing one thing or 
 the other. But every time just as I got the 
 money saved up, something or other hap- 
 pened Mother had rheumatism, or the 
 kitchen stove needed repairing, or the cow 
 died and the money was needed. Now, of 
 course, I'm making a nice lot of money, for 
 me, and there's nobody really dependent on 
 me but an old lady like me would look fine 
 prancing around in a pink dress, wouldn't 
 she ? I guess a pink dress would have made 
 me too vain, so I wasn't meant to have it," 
 and Deborah laughed softly as she picked up 
 a white blouse, and tenderly stroked a tiny 
 lace-edged ruffle with her work-worn old 
 hands. 
 
 Margery thoughtfully unwrapped the other
 
 56 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 pump. " Didn't you feel bad when you 
 couldn't have the dress? " 
 
 " Mercy, yes. Isn't that hat lovely, now ? 
 It just looks like a young girl those roses, I 
 do believe, are prettier than real ones. Yes, I 
 did feel bad about the pink dress sometimes 
 but it was always a comfort to feel that I * 
 could have had the dress, if only I had had the 
 money for it. Now my cousin, Eliza Moore, 
 who was a Quakeress, or Friend, as they say, 
 had lots of money, but her family were such 
 plain Friends that she couldn't even wear the 
 plain little gold brooch her lover gave her, on 
 the day that they were married and as for 
 her having such a thing as a pink dress, well, 
 that just couldn't be thought of! But though 
 Mother was born a Quaker, she married a 
 Baptist, so they put her out of the Society of 
 Friends, the way they used to do for ' out- 
 going in marriage.' So Mother, though she 
 liked things plain and dainty, didn't have to 
 hold with Quaker ideas of dress. Oh, there 
 are lots of comforting things in life if you 
 only hunt for them long enough." 
 
 " Pretty long hunt sometimes," Margery 
 murmured resentfully, gazing with unseeing
 
 DEBORAH 57 
 
 eyes at a pair of overshoes. She had suddenly 
 remembered Marie Smythe. 
 
 " Here," and Deborah interrupted her rev- 
 ery, " I'll do that unpacking for you. There's 
 no need for you to strain your young back 
 over those trunks. I'll do it for you, if" 
 she hesitated a little " if you'll put on that 
 pink dress and that hat with the roses on it. 
 I'd just like to look at you." 
 
 With a somewhat superior smile, but in- 
 wardly rather flattered, Margery slipped out 
 of her sailor suit and into the pink muslin, 
 and put on the big black hat with the pink 
 velvet roses at the most becoming angle. 
 
 " Well now, if you aren't a picture ! Those 
 roses just match the roses in your cheeks, 
 and that black hat makes your hair all the 
 goldener. It's a treat just to look at you. 
 Sit down there, and don't do a thing but look 
 pretty I'll be through this in a jifiy." 
 
 Margery sat back in a low chair, feeling 
 that Deborah was really very nice, after all, 
 although of course she would have to be kept 
 in her place, and watched the little woman 
 putting away frills and furbelows into cup- 
 board and bureau. Deborah, meanwhile, ut-
 
 58 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 tering soft little clucks of pleasure over each 
 particular piece of daintiness that she laid 
 away in its new home ; and despairing cries 
 when Margery, changing to another chair, in- 
 advertently sat on her second best hat. 
 
 " Well," said Deborah, as she finished ar- 
 ranging Margery's silver brush and comb and 
 mirror on the old mahogany bureau, and 
 spread out her silk kimono over the foot of 
 the bed, " I've almost had my fill for once of 
 handling pretty things. You certainly never 
 know what nice thing is in store for you, do 
 you? I groaned when I knew you were 
 coming. We've had so much company this 
 past summer, and I get so worn out trying to 
 keep things going and looking nice, and doing 
 my best to make everybody happy. But here 
 you turn up as sweet and pretty as a picture," 
 and Deborah's beauty loving eyes rested ad- 
 miringly on Margery, " and with all these 
 lovely things to take care of. Now, I must 
 skip down-stairs I think I'd better be seeing 
 about dinner." 
 
 Left alone, Margery laughed a little uncom- 
 fortably as she took off the big hat and hung 
 away the pink muslin. She wished that
 
 DEBORAH 59 
 
 Deborah wouldn't be so silly but she was 
 rather a nice little thing, after all. 
 
 After the noonday dinner which she had 
 alone with Deborah, as the boys had stayed 
 in the town for a football game, Margery 
 settled down to write to Marie Smythe. But 
 there seemed to be very little te say, that 
 Marie would understand, at any rate. She 
 described Thomas, whom she catalogued as 
 " our old family butler," and mentioned the 
 fact that her grandfather's house had great 
 white pillars in front. After that she paused 
 to refresh herself by eating a piece of nougat ; 
 took up her pen ; put it down again ; then 
 decided that she would investigate the smell 
 of chocolate stealing appetizingly up the stairs. 
 
 In the kitchen she found Deborah spread- 
 ing the icing on a three-layer chocolate cake. 
 In spite of her grown-up airs, Margery was 
 still enough of a child to be interested in 
 chocolate cake, and she at once decided that 
 being in the kitchen was less dreary than 
 sitting alone up-stairs. 
 
 In truth, the kitchen was a cheery place, 
 with the scarlet geraniums with which Deb- 
 orah had indulged her love of beauty bloom-
 
 60 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 ing in the sunny windows, its yellow painted 
 walls and woodwork, and its spotless floor 
 covered with a bright rag carpet. The gi- 
 gantic old fireplace had been bricked up, and 
 a modern range stood in front of it ; but on 
 the mantelpiece an old mahogany clock ticked 
 away, and the brass candlesticks stood sen- 
 tinel as they had done in the long ago days 
 when the United States was a lusty infant 
 barely out of swaddling-clothes. 
 
 With an elaborately detached air, Margery 
 leaned against the window frame and played 
 with a geranium leaf. Deborah looked up at 
 her and smiled as she put the cake to one side 
 and got out a clean old table-cloth which she 
 carefully folded and placed on the table. 
 
 " I like the smell of geranium leaves, don't 
 you ? " Deborah remarked. " Mrs. Smally, 
 the wife of the druggist in town, was telling 
 me that the French women use geranium as a 
 perfume well, I'm sure I don't wonder, it's 
 such a fresh, clean smell. My, but you do 
 remind me of my little sister, standing there 
 with the sun on your curls. She had hair 
 like yours, as golden as gold. When she was 
 little I used to tell her to keep out of the
 
 DEBORAH 61 
 
 fields where the cows were, for fear they would 
 eat her for a buttercup. She was as sweet and 
 pretty as a pink, too, but she died when she 
 was just nineteen of a broken heart," and 
 Deborah took off her spectacles and polished 
 them carefully on a corner of her apron. 
 
 Margery was fast approaching the romantic 
 age when a broken heart appears to be the 
 only appropriate organ to lay claim to. " Oh, 
 tell me," she asked, her face lighting up with 
 genuine interest, " really a broken heart? " 
 
 Deborah settled her glasses carefully back on 
 her nose before she answered. " Yes, really 
 a broken heart. You see, it was this way : 
 first there was Mary, she was the oldest of the 
 family. She had red hair, and red hair wasn't 
 fashionable in those days. And then there 
 was Sally, and she was red-headed, too ; and 
 then I came, and I wasn't anything particular 
 as to looks, and then came the two boys, and 
 then Lizzie. And so, you see, when she was 
 seventeen the rest of us were pretty well along. 
 And as it happened none of us were married 
 which didn't suit Father one bit Father 
 had real decided notions about the way things 
 ought to be. Well, when Lizzie was seventeen
 
 62 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 she got engaged to David Fortescue they had 
 been sweethearts ever since their mud-pie 
 days. But when David spoke to Father, 
 Father said, ' no,' very firm. He said that 
 he wasn't going to have any picking and 
 choosing in his family ; the Lord had sent his 
 children in order, and they would have to go 
 in order. As Lizzie had three older sisters, 
 she'd have to wait until they were married. 
 You see, Father had the old-fashioned notion 
 that it was a disgrace to have the older sisters 
 single when the younger ones were married. 
 And he kept Lizzie as strict as could be, and 
 wouldn't let her see David. We girls all just 
 worshipped the ground that Lizzie walked on, 
 and so we did our level best for her. Mary 
 said she had made up her mind to take the 
 widower with seven children, who had been 
 after her for ten years, and whom she couldn't 
 abide, and Sally even made up her mind to 
 Cranky Bennie Black." 
 
 "Cranky Bennie?" 
 
 " Yes, people called him that because he 
 was so disagreeable. The two boys we didn't 
 bother about for we knew that as soon as we 
 had married off down to them they could
 
 DEBORAH 63 
 
 take care of themselves. There never was a 
 man yet too old, or ugly, or disagreeable, not 
 to be able to get some woman to have him. 
 But all of our planning wasn't any use. Just 
 as Mary got resigned to the idea of the widower, 
 he went and married another woman, a widow 
 with four children and some money. That 
 knocked things right in the head at the start, 
 for of course if Father insisted on our going 
 in order, it wasn't any use then for the rest 
 of us to try anything, if the eldest one was put 
 out of the race, first whack. 
 
 " And then Lizzie began to get thinner and 
 thinner, and she felt so blue and discouraged 
 that she didn't take care of her health, and 
 got a bad cold on her lungs." 
 
 " Why didn't she elope? " interrupted Mar- 
 gery. " Marie Smythe's cousin did." 
 
 Deborah looked at her over the tops of her 
 glasses. " Such a thing as that was never 
 done in our family," she said firmly. " Any- 
 way, by that time she was really too sick to . 
 elope. But if she had only kept well it would 
 have come out all right. Things mostly do if 
 you just give them time enough. For just 
 about that time, Father was cleaning out the
 
 64 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 well, when he slipped and fell in head fore- 
 most. He caught himself by the bucket 
 chain, and so he wasn't in any danger of 
 drowning, but he was in an uncomfortable 
 position. Sally heard him call for help, and 
 she went out to him. And then, she said 
 afterward, it just came to her what she ought 
 to do. You usually could make Father listen 
 to reason if you could only get him so that he 
 couldn't jump up and go out of the room, or 
 begin to wind the clock, or something like 
 that. 
 
 " So Sally sat down at the top of the well 
 and she talked to him, and pointed out to 
 him how his falling into the well was a 
 judgment on him for making Lizzie and all 
 of us so unhappy. And Father finally ad- 
 mitted that he was in the wrong, so Sally 
 called the hired man, and together they 
 pulled Father up. Father sent for David and 
 told him that he and Lizzie could be married 
 any time that they wanted to, and that he 
 would give Lizzie his blessing. But it was 
 too late then," and Deborah took off her 
 glasses and frankly wiped her eyes. " Lizzie 
 had gone too far into a decline and that
 
 DEBORAH 65 
 
 spring she died -just when the fields were 
 yellow with buttercups." 
 
 Margery stood thoughtfully twisting the 
 shreds of the geranium leaf. The homely lit- 
 tle tale had touched the more human side of 
 her nature, the tenderer side that her father 
 felt to be blooming like flowers under the 
 snow. " It's a sad world, isn't it ? " she said 
 at last. 
 
 " That it is, dear, but," the housekeeper's 
 sweet old voice took on a cheerful tone, " I 
 don't believe the dear Lord meant it to be. 
 If we just have patience and faith in Him, 
 things almost always work out right. If my 
 darling just could have kept the faith in her 
 dear heart, and had had the patience and 
 courage to wait, and had taken care of her 
 health, and had not gone around in wet shoes, 
 everything would have worked out all right. 
 But, you see, she was young, and youth is 
 always impatient. I think that life is just 
 like this bread," and Deborah paused while 
 she opened the oven door, and taking out a 
 large bread-pan, carefully emptied out the 
 golden-brown loaves of bread onto the folded 
 table-cloth.
 
 66 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " This is fine bread now," and she touched 
 it with the pride of the artist, " because it was 
 not only stirred right, but baked right. But 
 suppose that half an hour ago I had said, 
 * I'm tired of waiting ; Mrs. Jones' bread is 
 done, and Mrs. Smith's bread is done, and it 
 is getting late, and I am too tired to wait any 
 longer.' And suppose that I had insisted on 
 taking it out of the oven, and slamming it 
 on the table, and trying to cut it. A nice, 
 doughy mess it would have been ! And the 
 worst of bread when it is life is that you 
 can't escape from eating it just because you've 
 pulled it too soon from the oven, and you can't 
 throw it way and say that you will make 
 some more. No, you've got to eat it, and 
 what's harder yet, those who are nearest and 
 dearest to you have to eat it, too ; for there is 
 no such thing as living singly in this world. 
 
 " Or suppose," she went on, as she put the 
 bread-pan in the sink, " that I had gotten dis- 
 couraged, and said, ' That bread is never going 
 to bake 1 I'll just go into the pantry and eat 
 jam to keep my mind from it,' and had gone 
 away in my discouragement and left the bread 
 to burn up. Well, I should probably have
 
 DEBORAH 67 
 
 had to eat the burnt crumbs, and been good 
 and sick from the jam, too I Just as in real 
 life people who do wicked and silly things to 
 forget their wearinesses get sick souls. And 
 now, dear, I'll have to go down cellar after 
 some canned fruit. There are some interest- 
 ing books in the library and you'd better 
 take some of these sweet red apples to eat. 
 Dick will have to see that you meet some of 
 the nice young girls in Renwyck's Town 
 there are quite a number of them and then 
 you won't have to have another dull day with 
 a chattery old body like me." 
 
 " I suppose," thought Margery as she selected 
 " Tom Sawyer," and curled up in a big chair 
 in the library with her feet under her in a 
 comfortable, if inelegant, position, " that 
 Deborah has the cheerful heart that Mamma 
 is always talking about."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 TEMPE WICK 
 
 " TOM SAWYER " proved to be so unex- 
 pectedly interesting, although Margery had 
 a guilty feeling that Marie Smythe would have 
 thoroughly disapproved of such a vulgar little 
 boy, that she started quite violently when 
 Benjamin suddenly put his grubby little hand 
 under her chin, and tilted back her head. 
 
 " Why, aren't you glad to see me?" asked 
 the child doubtfully as she impatiently shook 
 her head free. " I thought you would be." 
 
 Margery was not overwhelmed with de- 
 light, and did not exert herself to conceal the 
 fact as she turned back to the boy in the book. 
 
 The real boy before her backed off to the 
 door, a hurt look in his round blue eyes. 
 "Perhaps, Margery," he said bravely, although 
 his voice quivered a little, " you'd like to 
 come out to the stable. Dick told me to ask 
 you. He's going to take Tempe Wick out to 
 
 68
 
 TEMPE WICK 69 
 
 exercise her and he thought perhaps you'd 
 like to see the stable and the big barn. It's 
 an awful nice barn, Margery, the nicest in 
 the county." 
 
 Margery sighed impatiently. She had 
 caught the quiver in the childish voice, 
 and felt reproached, and therefore annoyed 
 by it. But glancing up, her heart softened 
 at the sight of the wistful little figure stand- 
 ing so manfully by the door. 
 
 " Oh, what a nuisance little boys are ! " she 
 cried, nevertheless tossing her book onto the 
 table. " Come on." 
 
 Although he winced at the term " little 
 boy," Benjamin was all smiles and delight, 
 and as they went toward the stable, gamboled 
 around her as gayly as an excited puppy. 
 
 " Can you ride, Margery ? I can, and so 
 can Dick. Dick ought to exercise Tempo 
 Wick every day, but he doesn't do it. She's 
 Grandfather's saddle horse, and Dick's sup- 
 posed to keep her in good condition while 
 he's away. I can ride an awful big horse, 
 Margery, an awful big one," he boasted, 
 child-fashion. 
 
 " Yes, you're a wonder," laughed Dick,
 
 70 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 pulling his small brother's ear. " Can you 
 ride, Margery ? " 
 
 " Yes, indeed, of course I can ride," an- 
 swered Margery, her tone only a trifle less 
 boastful than that of Benjamin's. 
 
 Dick critically examined the bit of the tall 
 horse that he had just led out of the stable. 
 "All Western girls ride," he remarked judi- 
 cially. Having met three Western girls in 
 the whole of his vast experience, he was well 
 qualified to speak. 
 
 " Then why can't Margery ride Tempe, and 
 show me the way the Indians ride ? Please, 
 Dick, please let her," begged Benjamin. 
 
 " No, kid. Tempe is a pretty ugly customer, 
 you know, when she happens to feel like it." 
 
 Margery looked at the mare, a powerful, 
 raw-boned animal, who was standing now 
 with drooping head ; and kitoVing but little 
 of horse-flesh, decided that she was not nearly 
 so dangerous as the arch-necked, high-step- 
 ping creatures that she had ridden in the 
 riding ring. " Nonsense, Dick," she said 
 loftily, " I can ride her, and I shall." 
 
 " We don't own a side-saddle. Besides, 
 Tempe isn't a ladies' horse Grandfather has
 
 TEMPE WICK 71 
 
 her because she can carry weight he's gotten 
 pretty heavy lately." 
 
 " I always ride astride ; I have a regular 
 costume for it." And indeed, Margery owned 
 a particularly fetching riding-rig of breeches 
 and long coat. " Besides, Professor Riggs 
 taught me, and he's the very best riding- 
 master. Who gave you lessons ? " 
 
 Dick laughed ; he had ridden almost ever 
 since he was old enough to sit up alone. 
 " Never had a lesson in my life. You don't 
 need lessons." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Dick, there are lots of little things 
 that you can't possibly know without lessons 
 Professor Riggs said so." 
 
 " Did he ? Well, I guess I can stick on as 
 well as anybody." 
 
 " Oh, yes, anybody can stick on. But that 
 isn't krfowing the little things and it's the 
 little things that count ; Professor Riggs said 
 
 so." 
 
 " Yes ? Did he ? " answered Dick absently, 
 searching through his pockets for something. 
 " Pshaw ! I've gone and left those arrow- 
 heads in the house." 
 
 " What are you going to do with them,
 
 72 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Dick ? " questioned Benjamin rather anx- 
 iously. " Half of them are mine, you know, 
 Dick." 
 
 " Yep. I'm just going to show them to old 
 Mr. Morris, if he is well enough to see any- 
 body. I'm going to ride over and inquire 
 how he is, anyway. Besides, I want to see 
 him about something." 
 
 " What ? " asked Benjamin, still rather sus- 
 picious on the score of his arrow-heads. 
 
 " Oh, nothing much. He knows a lot about 
 old things, and it's just a good ride over there 
 and back," and tying Tempe Wick to a hook 
 by the stable door, Dick hurried toward the 
 house. " Don't fool with Tempe, either of 
 you two," he called back warningly. 
 
 Margery looked after him with reproachful 
 dignity. She was not going to be told what 
 she could ride, and what she could not, by a 
 boy who had never had a riding lesson in his 
 life, and who could go out looking like that, 
 and she flashed a disdainful glance at Dick's 
 legs as they disappeared through the kitchen 
 doorway ; Dick having merely buckled on a 
 discarded pair of his grandfather's leggings as 
 a preliminary to his ride.
 
 TEMPE WICK 73 
 
 " Benjamin," she announced, untying 
 Tempe Wick, who laid back her ears omi- 
 nously, " I'm going to ride around the house 
 and show Dick." 
 
 " Oh, goody," exulted Benjamin, climbing 
 to a precarious perch on the top of the stable 
 pump. " I can see you finely from up here." 
 
 With the bridle in her hand, Margery stood 
 thinking. She wished that she had time to 
 slip into the house and put on her riding 
 costume ; it would be so much more im- 
 pressive. But before she could do it, Dick 
 would be out of the house, mounted, and 
 away. No, she would have to ride as she 
 was. Her short pleated skirt, and the bloom- 
 ers she wore under it instead of cumbersome 
 petticoats, would do, of course, as an im- 
 promptu riding costume, but it really wasn't 
 much more stylish than were Dick's leggings. 
 Dick's clear whistle came from the house, and 
 dreading lest he should appear too soon on 
 the scene, she hastily led Tempe to the horse- 
 block, from which she proceeded to scramble 
 into the saddle. Tempe had no idea of stand- 
 ing patiently like the horses in the riding- 
 school, and Margery managed the climb with
 
 74 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 so little skill and dignity that she admitted to 
 herself that she was glad Dick was not on 
 hand at that particular moment. The horse 
 started forward, as Margery swung her foot 
 over the saddle and reached for the stirrups 
 which, being arranged for Dick's long legs, 
 she could scarcely touch with the tips of her 
 toes. But she sat up very straight and held 
 her elbows at exactly the angle Professor 
 Riggs had taught her. 
 
 By the second time that she had cantered 
 along the driveway that encircled the house, 
 her confidence came back, and she began to 
 hope that Dick was seeing her and feeling 
 properly impressed. He really needed " tak- 
 ing down, that boy." 
 
 Far from playing the role of awestruck 
 spectator assigned to him, " that boy " was 
 placidly strolling from the back door to the 
 stable, absorbed in something that he was 
 wrapping in a strip of white tissue paper. 
 
 " Look at Ma'rgery," shouted Benjamin. 
 
 Dick looked up and waved to her good- 
 naturedly. "Better get down, Margery," he 
 called. " She's a crotchety beast." 
 
 For answer Margery struck her mount a
 
 TEMPE WICK 75 
 
 stinging blow with her little palm, hardened 
 by gymnasium work. 
 
 The nervous, high-strung animal sprang 
 forward with a suddenness that nearly cata- 
 pulted Margery out of the saddle. Her right 
 foot slipped out of the stirrup, and she felt 
 herself falling. With a shriek she dropped 
 the reins, and clutched at Tempo's mane, a 
 proceeding which Tempe resented even more 
 than the slap. With her ears laid back 
 viciously, and her wicked eyes showing the 
 white all round, she bounded violently for- 
 ward again. Margery, her whole being sud- 
 denly merged into an agonized endeavor to 
 stick on, forgot Professor Riggs and the im- 
 portance of the " little things," and sprawled 
 along the side of the mare, one foot waving 
 defiance in the air. Around the house, and 
 round again flew the incensed Tempe, and 
 nearer and nearer toward the ground slipped 
 Margery, and straighter toward the sky 
 pointed her right foot. Her arms grew weak, 
 her breath grew short, she gathered together 
 the remnants of her strength for a despairing 
 plunge to earth, hoping vaguely to miss the 
 cruelly flying hoofs.
 
 76 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Suddenly some one whistled, a loud clear 
 whistle that Tempe seemed to recognize. She 
 slackened her pace, and the ears laid back so 
 wickedly were raised. The lessened pace en- 
 abled Margery to perform one more acrobatic 
 feat, and with a last, supreme effort she hauled 
 herself back into the saddle. 
 
 Again the whistle sounded, and Margery, 
 limply clinging to the bridle, was carried 
 toward the stable porch, where Dick stood 
 with his cap full of oats. With a futile, but 
 instinctive, effort to recover her lost dignity, 
 Margery brushed back the flying witch-locks 
 from her crimson face, rearranged the folds 
 of her skirt, and sat up very straight, 
 trying to look as though riding with one 
 foot pointing toward the sky was quite a la 
 mode. 
 
 Dick quietly hitched Tempe to a post. 
 " Shall I help you down now, Margery ? " he 
 asked gravely, although his eyes twinkled, 
 and he swallowed hard as a burst of laughter 
 almost overtook him. 
 
 Benjamin was candidly delighted. " You 
 were just like the man at the circus, Mar- 
 gery," he whooped, clinging to the top of the
 
 TEMPE WICK 77 
 
 pump like a particularly lively little monkey 
 on a stick. " Oh, but you were funny ! " 
 
 Dick gave him a warning glance as he 
 swung Margery down from the saddle, and 
 she stumbled to a stool providentially near. 
 " Would you like to see my Indian arrow- 
 heads, Margery ? " he asked as though noth- 
 ing had happened. 
 
 Margery nodded ; she couldn't speak just 
 then. 
 
 " Here they are," and Dick drew a little 
 package from his pocket and unwrapped a 
 handful of some reddish, pointed stones. 
 " I'm going to take these over to Mr. Morris 
 he knows a lot about old things. They 
 were made by the Indians that were here 
 long before the first settlers came, nobody 
 knows just how old they may be. See, you 
 can tell how each one has been chiseled to a 
 point by some sharp instrument, probably 
 another piece of stone. Every once and a 
 while somebody finds some ; Denis O'Flan- 
 igan, that's the farmer, found these in the 
 south meadow the other day." 
 
 " Yes, they are very interesting," mur- 
 mured Margery, her face still red.
 
 78 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Well, I must go, or it will be too late," 
 and Dick jumped onto Tempe's back, and in 
 spite of his lack of knowledge of the " little 
 things " taught only by Professor Riggs, rode 
 off with considerably more style than Mar- 
 gery had been able to achieve. 
 
 Benjamin scampered off to play with the 
 dilapidated puppy which was the pride of his 
 heart, and Margery went back to her book 
 feeling decidedly out of tune with life and 
 with Dick in particular. 
 
 "That horrid boy!" she fumed. "He 
 might have laughed." Illogically overlook- 
 ing the fact that she would have been deeply 
 offended if Dick had laughed. 
 
 She read on for a page or two, her mind 
 more on that humiliating episode of the 
 wildly waving foot than on the whitewash- 
 ing of Tom Sawyer's fence. " Well, anyway," 
 she comforted herself as she put down her 
 book and went in search of Deborah's more 
 soothing society, " Dick doesn't count at all 
 Papa's always so stuck on anybody that's 
 related to us that I'm sure if Grandpapa had 
 thought much of Dick Papa would have 
 talked reams about him. Of course, Mamma
 
 TEMPE WICK 79 
 
 makes the best of it, and pretended that they 
 would be a pleasant surprise ; r but I'm sure 
 that the boys' father was an awful black 
 sheep, and broke Aunt Margaret's heart. 
 And I'm sure that they are really afraid that 
 the boys are going to be like him. Benjamin 
 mayn't he's so young perhaps he can be 
 taught something yet but I'm sure Dick is 
 going to be a black sheep." And having 
 settled Dick's future 'to her satisfaction, she 
 pushed open the door of the dining-room, 
 where Deborah was arranging a vase of 
 bright autumn leaves on the table. 
 
 At the supper table Benjamin was full of 
 Margery's exploit. In vain Dick reached 
 out a long leg and kicked him under the 
 table. " You just ought to have seen her, 
 Deborah," he persisted. " She was awfully 
 funny ! " 
 
 Her face scarlet, Margery hurried to change 
 the subject. " Why is that horse called Tem- 
 evic ? " she asked. 
 
 " It isn't Temevic it's Tempe Wick," ex- 
 plained Deborah, Dick and Benjamin in chorus. 
 
 " Short for Temperance Wick," Deborah 
 explained as Margery looked bewildered.
 
 8o MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 "You see, Margie, she's named after " 
 
 began Benjamin. 
 
 " Better let me tell the story, kid," inter- 
 rupted Dick. 
 
 " Tell your old story, then I " cried Benja- 
 min. 
 
 " Boys, boys," cautioned Deborah, " don't 
 forget yourselves. If it gives you much 
 pleasure, Dick, I guess that you had better 
 tell the story." 
 
 " Well, Margery," Dick began, looking 
 rather shamefaced, " Grandfather named her 
 after a girl that lived up in Jersey, during 
 the Revolution. Her name was Tempe Wick, 
 short for Temperance Wick. Anyway, she 
 had a horse named General that she was 
 daffy over. One day when she was out rid- 
 ing, didn't a whole crowd of soldiers jump 
 out on the road from behind some bushes and 
 demand that she give them General at once, 
 as they were badly in need of horses." 
 
 " British soldiers, of course," put in Mar- 
 gery. 
 
 " No-o, they were American," Dick admit- 
 ted, regretfully. " You wouldn't think that 
 Americans would do a mean thing like that,
 
 TEMPE WICK 81 
 
 would you? Anyway," he went on, " Tempe 
 was bound that they shouldn't get General, 
 so she gave him a crack with her whip and 
 off he bounded ! The men chased them, but 
 old General flew like a cracker-jack until 
 they reached home. Then Tempe was in a 
 fix, for she knew that the soldiers would fol- 
 low, and take General away from the stable. 
 So what do you suppose she did ? " 
 
 "What?" asked Margery with flattering 
 interest ; anything was better than having 
 the conversation dwell on her riding. 
 
 " Well, the back kitchen door was open, so 
 she just rode straight on in and through the 
 house to the guest room which was on the 
 ground floor. When she got old General in 
 there, she hitched him to a bed post, drew the 
 shutters to and bolted them, and went out the 
 door, locking it after her. Then she saun- 
 tered out into the yard, as cool as you please. 
 Just as she got there, up came the soldiers 
 looking for General. They looked for him 
 high and low ; in the barn, in all the sheds, 
 through the woods, but of course it never oc- 
 curred to them to look in the house. The 
 next day, back they came I But Tempe had
 
 82 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 the sense to keep General still hidden in the 
 room. And she kept him there until the sol- 
 diers had left that part of the country, and 
 never once did old General give himself away 
 by stamping or neighing." 
 
 As Dick finished his story, Deborah set 
 down a plate of doughnuts on the table. 
 
 " Can you cook? " she asked of Margery. 
 
 " No, indeed." 
 
 Dick looked surprised. " Can't you ? Why, 
 that's funny! I remember perfectly, and it's 
 the chief tfhing I do remember about Uncle's 
 letters, that your father said you were a won- 
 derful cook for a young girl." 
 
 " Can't you really cook ? " Benjamin added 
 reproachfully. 
 
 Deborah laughed. " You may be sure," she 
 said, turning to Margery, "that these perpet- 
 ually hungry boys will try to wish you into a 
 first-class cook. I wish that I could discover 
 something that they would get enough of for 
 qpnce. No, Benjie, dear, no more doughnuts 
 to-night bad dreams, you know. Wake up, 
 Dick ; what are you mooning about? " 
 
 Dick looked up from the little pile of bread 
 pills that he had manufactured; a habit of
 
 TEMPE WICK 83 
 
 which Deborah had vainly tried to break 
 him. 
 
 " Did I understand you to say that you 
 were to stay all winter, Margery?" 
 
 Margery sighed. " Yes, the whole long 
 winter." 
 
 " Had your father said anything about 
 school?" * 
 
 " Yes, he wrote to Grandpapa about it, I'm 
 to go to the Quaker school, or some such funny 
 sort of place. The boys and girls go to school 
 there together I just despise the idea of going 
 to school with boys. At home I went to Miss 
 Spencer's ; that's the very best school in the 
 whole state of California. Where do you 
 go ? " she finished. It had not occurred to her 
 before to wonder where the boys got their 
 schooling. 
 
 " We go to the Quaker school Friends' 
 school, they call it here. ' Society of Friends,' 
 you know. Grandfather was a Friend when 
 he was a young man, and he still likes their 
 ways. Besides, it's the only good school in 
 town." 
 
 " It sounds awful," commented Margery, as 
 they got up from the table. " I know I'll
 
 8 4 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 loathe it. But I think that I'd better go on 
 Monday. It's awfully dull out here, besides, 
 I don't want to lose any more time than I 
 have to. I don't want to drop back a class 
 when I go home, I suppose that I'll be way 
 behind anyway, studying at -such a little 
 country school," and Margery looked very 
 much martyred and despairing. 
 
 Dick and Benjamin went out to look after 
 Benjamin's puppy, which had cut its foot, and 
 Margery slipped into the darkened library, 
 where she curled up on one of the wide win- 
 dow seats. The stillness of the country night, 
 broken only by the melancholy hooting of an 
 owl, seemed almost terrifying to her, and she 
 wondered uneasily if her father and mother, 
 far out on the ocean by this time, were safe. 
 The owl's hooting seemed to waken all sorts 
 of mental spectres. She had left her parents 
 in the fierce heat of resentment, but now, ac- 
 customed, if not reconciled, to her new home, 
 the resentment died down, and she longed to 
 tell her mother about Deborah and to be 
 praised and petted for having made a bed so 
 beautifully, and to ask her father all about the 
 boys and her Aunt Margaret and the boys'
 
 TEMPE WICK 85 
 
 father, and to have him pull her curls and 
 call her " mischief." She was sorry, she 
 thought, that she had been so horrid when she 
 left, she would write to-morrow the loveliest 
 letter imaginable. 
 
 Lost in her thoughts she almost screamed 
 with fright when some one close by stumbled 
 over a chair in the dark. 
 
 " Are you there, Margery ? " came Dick's 
 voice. 
 
 " Gracious, yes, is that you ? " Severely, 
 " You gave me an awful fright." 
 
 Dick struck a match and lighted the lamp. 
 " What are you doing here in the dark ? 
 Ouch ! That did burn my fingers I The 
 puppy scratched me up pretty well, too," and 
 Dick ruefully examined his injuries. " Well, 
 that doesn't matter. I say, Margery," he 
 blurted out, seizing the back of a chair, and 
 settling himself astride of its seat, " I want 
 to ask you some questions." 
 
 " All right. Go on." 
 
 " When did you decide to come here?" 
 
 Margery sighed ; the elaborately patient 
 sigh of the impatient. " I explained all that 
 to you yesterday ; shall I do it again in words
 
 86 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 of one syllable ? I came because Papa and 
 Mamma are going to Japan. Papa had busi- 
 ness there, something to do with banking. 
 They found that they would have to go ear- 
 lier; so I got shipped off. I wanted to stay 
 with Marie Smythe, as her mother asked me 
 to do. But Papa wouldn't let me. If my 
 presence worries you so much, I'll write to 
 Grandpapa and have him give me a certificate." 
 
 The shy boy flushed crimson under his tan, 
 clear up to the roots of his light hair, almost 
 the color of Margery's own, but he stood his 
 ground manfully. " And you really come 
 from California, not Texas ? " 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 " Where did you address your letters when 
 you wrote to Grandfather?" 
 
 Margery hesitated. She rather disliked hav- 
 ing to admit how seldom she had written to 
 her grandfather of late, and how much prod- 
 ding it had taken from her mother to make 
 her write the few letters she did achieve. 
 " Oh, I don't remember," she stammered, 
 " b-box 68, or 86, or some such number, 
 Renwyck's Town. But I usually just put my 
 letters in with Mamma's."
 
 TEMPE WICK 87 
 
 " Oh, I say, Margery, wouldn't it be a joke 
 if you didn't belong here at all, if you be- 
 longed to some of the other Morrises." 
 
 Margery gasped with indignation. " You 
 don't want me here, Dick Ball, 1 could see 
 that plainly enough yesterday. But* even if 
 you don't want me, I think that you might 
 be gentleman enough to behave as one, and 
 not to act as though you thought I was an 
 impostor come to steel the family spoons I " 
 
 " Very well," was Dick's quiet answer. " I 
 shall never ask you anything more I'll leave 
 everything to Grandfather." The two glared 
 at each other like a pair of angry kittens. 
 
 Dick recovered himself first. " I beg your 
 pardon, Margery," and he held out his hand. 
 " I didn't mean to hurt your feelings." 
 
 " I'll forgive you, but I do get so tiped of 
 answering questions ! " 
 
 Dick carefully turned down the lamp, which 
 was beginning to smoke. " All right. An- 
 other thing, you were great the way you stuck 
 to Tempe this afternoon, a real sport. If you 
 want to ride I can borrow a saddle for Will- 
 iam Rufus, that's the sorrel that brought you 
 from the station yesterday, and we can go out
 
 88 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 riding together. Another thing, we all try 
 to help Deborah, sometimes. You see, she's 
 old, and she has a lot to do, and we have 
 had such a heap of company ever since she's 
 been here. The farmer's wife and daughter 
 are supposed to come in and help her every 
 day, but they aren't much good and we have 
 to help out. We often help Thomas about 
 the yard, too, he's so tottery. Everything 
 here but Grandfather is old. He's really the 
 oldest, but he is spry. Come along, let's crack 
 some nuts for Deborah now, she wants them 
 for a cake, or something." 
 
 As they cracked away at the nuts, Margery 
 decided that Dick had rather a nice side to 
 him, after all. They grew confidential, and 
 discovered that they liked and disliked the 
 same characters in history and fiction. When 
 Margery gravely asserted that, " Richard the 
 Third, aside from his murders, was a very 
 nice man," Dick laughed so uproariously that 
 Thomas stuck his head in at the pantry door. 
 
 " Laugh and grow fat," he beamed. " Dat's 
 my best scanctification."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 AT OLD ST. PETER'S 
 
 " ' Here lies the body of Margaret Morris, 
 She was lovely and pleasant in this life, 
 And in death she was mourned,' " 
 
 Margery read aloud as she leaned over an old 
 table-tombstone in the churchyard the next 
 morning. With the boys she had arrived too 
 early for church, and now they were filling in 
 the time wandering in the quaint old grave- 
 yard that stretched out behind the little old 
 church of St. Peter. It was very peaceful and 
 quiet in that final resting-place, with only the 
 soft rustle of the falling leaves and the distant 
 pealing of a church bell to break the Sabbath 
 stillness, and Margery felt sad, with that 
 pleasant sadness that comes when one is 
 young and has nothing to be unhappy about. 
 " It makes you feel queer to see your name 
 on a gravestone," she remarked pensively. 
 " I wonder if anybody would ever put ' she 
 
 89
 
 90 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 was lovely and pleasant in this life ' on my 
 tombstone?" 
 
 Dick looked dubious, but Benjamin threw 
 his arms around Margery's waist. " I will, 
 Margie," he declared, " I will, and and I'll 
 make them put a lady with a trombone, like 
 this one, on it," and he pointed to a dropsical 
 angel blowing the final trump, carved on an 
 old tombstone beside him. 
 
 Dick and Margery glanced at each other, 
 and laughed. " You'll see your name on 
 plenty of stones here," Dick remarked, idly 
 scraping with his knife the moss from the 
 table-stone on which he was sitting. " The 
 whole place is full of Morrises. Grandfather 
 belonged to the Quaker branch of the family, 
 but they are all descended from the same old 
 Henry Morris he was one of the first govern- 
 ors of the state, and he had a very pretty 
 daughter named Margaret " 
 
 " Oh, yes," interrupted Margery, " I re- 
 member her husband was killed fighting a 
 duel, and she died of a broken heart lots of 
 people seem to have died of a broken heart," 
 she finished, thinking of Deborah's sister. 
 
 " Lots," agreed Dick cheerfully. " Crazy
 
 AT OLD ST. PETER'S 91 
 
 thing to do. Look here, Margery, the old 
 chaps that are buried here are Morrises, too. 
 Just wait until I finish digging the moss out 
 of these letters there ! " 
 
 " Oh," cried Margery, leaning over his 
 shoulder, " oh I " 
 
 "What's the matter?" 
 
 " Nothing." 
 
 In queer straggling old letters the tomb- 
 stone announced that under its flat surface 
 lay sleeping all that was mortal of Henry and 
 Elizabeth Morris. Her parents' names. It 
 had been mildly interesting to see her own 
 name carved in stone, but it came as a shock 
 to see those of her parents. Suppose, she 
 thought with a little catch in her breath, 
 those names really did mean her father and 
 mother instead of some long ago ancestors. 
 How could she stand it then? For the first 
 time in her life, it occurred to her that her 
 parents must needs be mortal, and that some 
 time they might be taken away from her. 
 She had always thought of them as of neces- 
 sity existing for her comfort and pleasure, a 
 duty which they often performed with indif- 
 ferent success.
 
 92 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 "There's the last bell," said Dick. " Stop 
 staring so soberly at that stone, Margery, and 
 come on." 
 
 The day was warm, and through open door 
 and window the autumnal sunshine streamed 
 into ' the dark church. Through the open 
 window across the aisle Margery could see the 
 leaves dropping softly down from a scarlet 
 and gold maple tree, and a Virginia creeper 
 glowing against the dull old brick of the 
 quaint churchyard wall. "We have left un- 
 done those things which we ought to have done, 
 and we have done those things which we 
 ought not to have done," she prayed mechanic- 
 ally with the congregation, her eyes on those 
 softly falling leaves. She wished that she had 
 not left undone so many things ; if only she 
 had helped her mother with the packing; if 
 only she had done so many things. If only 
 she had not been so hateful about staying with 
 Marie Smythe, of course they were all wrong 
 about that ; but still she might have been 
 nicer about it. ... 
 
 " Get up, Margery, get up ! " whispered 
 Benjamin, anxiously. " Everybody's been 
 standing up ever so long."
 
 IF ONLY SHE HAD NOT BEEN SO HATEFUL
 
 AT OLD ST. PETER'S 93 
 
 As Margery scrambled to her feet, and 
 joined hastily in the anthem, she caught the 
 eye of a tall girl across the aisle, who smiled 
 at her in such a friendly fashion that involun- 
 tarily she nodded back. Did that girl go to 
 the Friends' school, Margery wondered as she 
 fluttered the leaves of her prayer-book ; she 
 hoped that she did. 
 
 The congregation settled itself at last for its 
 sermon-time nap, and Margery looked about 
 her with interest. She wondered if the people 
 there knew who she was, and if they would 
 come up and speak to her after church. She 
 had a vague feeling that they ought to feel 
 impressed that she was among them. She 
 glanced at Dick, sitting bolt upright on the 
 bench on the opposite side of the old square 
 pew, his arms folded, and a preternaturally 
 solemn expression on his frank face. His 
 clear profile was outlined against the dark 
 wainscoting of the wall beyond, and Margery 
 noted with surprise how handsome he looked. 
 She wished suddenly that Marie Smythe could 
 see him now that he was dressed up and didn't 
 have on that dreadful gray sweater ; after all, he 
 might be a cousin of whom she could be proud.
 
 94 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 With a long, windy sigh, Benjamin put his 
 head down on her knee and dropped off to 
 sleep. With a new tenderness she shaded his 
 eyes with her prayer-book, and smiled to her- 
 self as she noticed the very clean little paw 
 tucked under his cheek. Deborah had con- 
 fided to her that morning with some amuse- 
 ment the arguments he had used against the 
 scrubbing on which she had insisted : first, he 
 couldn't wash his hands, they were sore ; 
 second, it was walnut stain, and wouldn't 
 eome off; third, it was the natural color of 
 his skin ; fourth, his hands weren't dirty at 
 all, it was just a shadow on them. 
 
 After church there were many friendly nods 
 for Dick, and still more smiles for Benjamin, 
 for the handsome, affectionate little boy was a 
 general favorite, but nobody seemed to pay 
 much attention to Margery, to her surprise. 
 
 " Who's your pretty girl, Dick ? " asked a 
 fat man on the church porch. 
 
 "Cousin," returned Dick with his usual 
 laconicism. 
 
 "Another visitor, eh?" continued the man, 
 with what Margery mentally catalogued as a 
 " grinny smile."
 
 AT OLD ST. PETER'S 95 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " I hope those Baptists are through," re- 
 marked Dick as they got into the carriage. 
 " We have to wait an age for Deborah some- 
 times." 
 
 The Baptists were " through," and the 
 housekeeper was waiting on the curbstone for 
 them as they drove up. " Now then," she 
 said gayly as she settled herself beside Margery 
 with Benjamin sitting bodkin-fashion between 
 them, " I want my special Sunday treat. 
 Drive home the long way, Thomas. It's the 
 loveliest ride," she explained, turning to 
 Margery. " We go through part of the Sheep 
 Town woods they are much prettier than the 
 woods near us. Last spring when I first came 
 to Renwyck's Town I come from up the 
 state, where the woods aren't so fine, you 
 know, I thought they were the loveliest 
 things I had ever seen. Such masses of pink 
 and white bloom as you would admire to see, 
 laurel, you know. And then a little later 
 the air was that sweet with swamp magnolias 
 and wild honeysuckles. Oh, it was lovely," 
 and she leaned back with a smile of reminis- 
 cent pleasure.
 
 96 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 They jogged along in a comfortable midday 
 Sunday silence, broken only by Dick's point- 
 ing out to Margery the objects of natural in- 
 terest along the road. " That," he would say, 
 pointing to some old hen that, contentedly 
 scratching on one side of the road, must needs, 
 at the approach of the carriage, hurl herself 
 with a great squawking and flapping of wings 
 across the road under the horse's hoofs, " is 
 an ostrich. They are quite common about 
 here." Or, " That, Margery," waving toward 
 a little chipmunk that chattered impudently 
 at them from the corner of a fence, " is a 
 camel. See that? " a pig roaming at will in 
 an orchard, " well, that's an elephant, we 
 must teach our visitor some natural history, 
 Benjamin." 
 
 " And that," said Margery at last, indicat- 
 ing a particularly tall and raw-boned horse 
 that hung its long head over the fence, " is a 
 Jersey mosquito, I suppose." 
 
 Dick collapsed, and said no more. 
 
 The road turned into the woods, winding 
 between dark pine trees, and here and there 
 a flame colored hickory, or scarlet sweet 
 gum. " Winter is coming sure," commented
 
 AT OLD ST. PETER'S 97 
 
 Dick as they crossed a little stream of clear, 
 dark brown cedar-water. " Hear those birds 
 they are flying south, now. Winter will 
 be here before we know it, hope we have 
 some decent skating this year." 
 
 " I wish winter wouldn't come," lamented 
 Benjamin, " 'cause Grandfather always makes 
 me wear heavy woolen things, and they 
 prickle so. And I can't go swimming, or eat 
 watermelons. I wish it was spring coming, 
 don't you, Deborah ? " 
 
 " Yes indeed, but never mind, dear. Think 
 of Thanksgiving and Christmas, and the 
 mince pies I'm going to make you. And 
 remember, dear, spring has already started. 
 All nature is getting ready for it now." 
 
 Benjamin peered out of the carriage as 
 though he expected to see spring, in rosy 
 kirtle and flower-garlands, dancing through 
 the woodland glade. " Oh, Deborah," he 
 scoffed, " you're funny." 
 
 " No, I am not, the buds have started on 
 the trees already. Just look at a lilac bush 
 carefully, and you'll see. Pull up a hepatica, 
 that's the deadest thing in the fall that I 
 know, and yet, away down by the roots, tucked
 
 98 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 away, you will find the buds all formed for 
 spring. Sometimes, when I el blue and 
 downhearted, and there doesn't seem 'to be 
 anything bright whichever way I look," Deb- 
 orah went on, talking more to herself than to 
 the others, " it is a great comfort to think 
 of the hepaticas. It makes you realize, even 
 when life does seem dead and hopeless, that 
 tucked away in the future God has something 
 bright and happy waiting, though you can't 
 see it at the time." 
 
 " Like having you come and take care of 
 us," suggested Benjamin, thoughtfully. 
 
 " Yes, you nuisance, like you," and Deb- 
 orah gave the child a hug which he endured 
 with a fair show of composure, and not too 
 much wiggling, as Dick fortunately had his 
 back turned and couldn't see the indignity. 
 
 They came out of the woods into the open 
 sunlit country, and Dick announced gran- 
 diloquently, " Behold, Margaret I Behold 
 the domicile which Deborah has claimed as 
 hers." 
 
 On a knoll overlooking the creek stood a 
 large rambling white house, surrounded by a 
 group of elms and chestnut trees. A beau-
 
 AT OLD ST. PETER'S 99 
 
 tiful lawn, divided by a driveway bordered 
 by elms, " the last elms left in the county/' 
 Dick explained, rolled up to the house. On 
 the south, protected from the north winds by 
 the house, was a large box-bordered garden, 
 with here and there a late rose nodding 
 above the high hedges. On the other side 
 stretched innumerable stables, carriage-houses 
 and offices. 
 
 " I call it my house," laughed Deborah, 
 " because I like it so much ; it does me good 
 just to look at it. I don't see why we feel 
 that we have to own things before we can 
 enjoy them. I can get lots of pleasure out 
 of other people's pretty curls, and their hats, 
 and fine houses." 
 
 " I rode over here yesterday," Dick re- 
 marked, " to see Mr. Morris, but he's too ill 
 to see anybody. It's pretty serious, I guess." 
 
 " I'm sorry to hear that, Dick. I have a 
 great admiration for Mr. Morris ; he's one of 
 the few people who know how to be a beau- 
 tiful Christian character without overdoing 
 it. They say that for all his wealth there 
 isn't a kinder, more unassuming man on the 
 face of the earth, and as full of fun as he can
 
 ioo MERGER T MORRIS 
 
 be. He came over to see your grandfather 
 one day this summer, and he was just as com- 
 mon as you or me," and Deborah sighed sym- 
 pathetically, as she voiced that bit of praise 
 supreme to country minds. 
 
 Margery took a final look through the 
 tiny square window in the back of the car- 
 riage at the home of the gentleman who knew 
 how to be a beautiful Christian character 
 " without overdoing it," and said in her most 
 superior manner : 
 
 " Now, that's the sort of place Mamma made 
 believe that Grandpapa's would be like, but 
 of course I knew better." 
 
 " Why, Margery," cried Benjamin, indig- 
 nant at her tone. " Our house is lots nicer, 
 it's older, and and and" he cast about 
 for a point of superiority " and it's got a 
 lots nicer chicken yard. It has, too," he 
 maintained stoutly, as the rest laughed. " Mr. 
 Morris said so hisself."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 BENJIE 
 
 AFTER dinner Deborah slipped off to enjoy 
 her Sunday afternoon nap, and Margery and 
 the boys drifted out to the front portico. The 
 October sun shone warm, and they lingered 
 there on the steps, idly watching a squirrel 
 in the oak tree across the driveway. 
 
 " I bet you don't often see bluer skies than 
 this in California, Margery," remarked Dick 
 with a sigh of contentment, as he settled 
 himself with his back against one of the 
 pillars. 
 
 " Not often," Margery admitted. " Oh, just 
 look, that squirrel is coming down the tree I 
 Isn't it cunning? " 
 
 Benjamin extracted from his pocket the 
 battered remains of the crackers with which 
 he had fortified himself against any possible 
 pangs of hunger during church-time, and 
 stealing softly toward the tree, crouched on 
 one knee, with the cracker-crumbs held tempt- 
 
 101
 
 102 M4RGERT MORRIS 
 
 ingly in his outstretched hand. The squirrel 
 stood still, its tail neatly folded against its 
 back, and its tiny nose quivering with excite- 
 ment. At last, apparently satisfied that Ben- 
 jamin was quite harmless, it dropped down on 
 all four little paws, and crept nearer to the 
 alluring crumbs. Suddenly it paused, turned, 
 and with a startled whisk of its tail, darted 
 up the tree. 
 
 " Oh, I'm sorry I startled the little chap," 
 came a voice from behind the shrubbery bed 
 on the right, and Sam Bennet appeared. " I 
 didn't see what you were' doing until I got up 
 close, or I should have waited." 
 
 " Sam, this is my very own cousin Mar- 
 gery, and she's going to live with us all win- 
 ter," announced Benjamin, assuming the du- 
 ties of master of ceremonies. " Margie, this 
 is Sam Bennet, Dick's per-per-per-tikler 
 frie-nd." 
 
 Sam laughed and held out his hand. Mar- 
 gery recognized him as the boy who had 
 walked over her feet at the station on the 
 day of her arrival, and her greeting was cor- 
 respondingly reproving, but Sam's smile was 
 so friendly and unconscious, and his bow and
 
 BEN J IE 103 
 
 hand-shake so polite, that she relented and 
 made room for him beside her on the step. 
 
 Sam, who knew but little of the meaning 
 of the word " shyness," sat down beside her, 
 and at once began a rattling account of the 
 trip he had made the day before to the city 
 with his much idolized young uncle. " It 
 was fine," he laughed, " and I had a peach of 
 a time, until about three o'clock, when Uncle 
 Jack insisted on going to an afternoon con- 
 cert. He said he had promised to go, so as to 
 hear the fiance'e of one of his friends sing. 
 Well, I was big enough goat to go, too. It 
 was awful," and Sam groaned tragically, "one 
 of these highfaluting, tra-la-la affairs. The 
 only part that I enjoyed was when a great 
 big fat woman, she must have weighed at 
 least two hundred sang, in a way-high-up 
 soprano, ' I- am a butterfly, perched on a 
 
 rose ! ' 
 
 Margery, who liked mentally to catalogue 
 and label people, decided that Sam himself, 
 with his rosy cheeks, short neck, and wide 
 shoulders looked like an apple on a mantel- 
 piece, but she liked him and considered him 
 far more mannerly than Dick. Sam had
 
 104 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 four sisters, two maiden aunts, and several 
 girl cousins, and had not only achieved but 
 had thrust upon him more polish and urban- 
 ity than had the other lads whose sister-less, 
 aunt-less, cousin-less state he envied. 
 
 All too soon for Margery the conversa- 
 tion strayed toward football. Feeling rather 
 bored, she slipped away to the library to write 
 the Sunday afternoon letter, which she had 
 promised, rather indifferently, to send to her 
 father and mother every week. There was 
 much to tell them : the trip across the con- 
 tinent, which Margery had found wearisome ; 
 the illness of Mr. Van Pelt's granddaughter ; 
 and her own arrival at Renwyck's Town ; 
 her grandfather's absence, and Deborah and 
 the boys. She sat down intending to make 
 her letter reproachfully dignified, to make 
 quite clear, without saying so in so many 
 words, the unhappy situation into which they 
 had forced her, and to paint the contrasting 
 picture of how happy and well-cared for she 
 would have been if she had been allowed to 
 remain in the company of Marie Smythe, in 
 the most glowing colors. But as she spread 
 out her paper, and dipped her pen in the
 
 BEN J IE 105 
 
 queer old inkstand made from half a can- 
 non-ball, she felt again as she had felt that 
 morning in the quiet old church. 
 
 She regretted those hours of parting, when 
 coldly and reproachfully she had said farewell, 
 and regarded so condescendingly the tears that 
 would roll down her mother's cheeks. 
 
 She dipped her pen again in the ink and 
 began : 
 
 " Dear Papa and Mamma. I am sorry I 
 was horrid when I came away. I don't like 
 it a bit here. Aunt Margaret's boys are here, 
 too, and Dick is not especially agreeable, and 
 he is very stuck-up about his riding, but I 
 try to make the best of things. Grandpapa 
 is away, somewhere up in Canada, and the 
 housekeeper runs things in a way that isn't 
 especially good form, but I think that you 
 would like her because she has such a cheer- 
 ful heart. But I wouldn't mind things 
 if only you were here. I want to see you 
 so much, oh, Mamma dear, I miss you so, 
 and I'd just give anything to hear Papa 
 laugh " 
 
 Her pen slipped and made a blot, and a big 
 tear rolled down beside her hose and fell on
 
 io6 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 the blot as if to wash it out. With some- 
 thing very like a moan, she put her head 
 down on her stiff little epistle and began to 
 cry. Benjamin, who had followed her in 
 from the portico and who had been busily 
 engaged in catching flies on the window-pane, 
 slipped out of the room to the boys. 
 
 " Margery's crying," he announced in an 
 awed whisper. " My, but she looks funny." 
 
 Dick quietly entered the library, and put- 
 ting his hand on Margery's heaving shoulder, 
 said, " Come on, Marge, leave the letter until 
 evening and we will take a walk. Perhaps 
 the frost the other night was enough to ripen 
 the persimmons." 
 
 " W-what a-a-are persim-mons ? " gulped 
 Margery, in a desperate effort to appear at 
 ease, and to act as though wildly sobbing 
 with one's head in the ink-well were a usual 
 Sunday afternoon relaxation. 
 
 " Great Scott, don't you know ? Come on 
 then. Here, take my cricket blazer, it's get- 
 ting cooler. We'll go over the back meadow 
 and you won't see a soul, so never mind 
 prinking." 
 
 Without a word, Margery obediently donned
 
 BEN J IE 107 
 
 the red and orange striped blazer, and choked 
 back her tears as best she could. She wasn't 
 going to have " that boy " see her cry I 
 
 As they walked across the meadow in 
 silence, Dick absorbed in stripping a willow- 
 wand of its bark, and Margery lost in her 
 thoughts, a>*toud whistle made them turn. 
 Sam and Benjamin were hurrying toward 
 them, waving to them to wait. 
 
 " Well," grumbled Sam, as he caught up, 
 " of all the cool things I To go off calmly and 
 eat up all the persimmons without saying a 
 word to anybody. But you didn't fool us, 
 we knew what you were up to when we saw 
 you heading in this direction I If Miss 
 Morris will allow it," and Sam courteously 
 looked at the sky, and the trees, and a distant 
 cow, anywheres but at Miss Morris's tear- 
 stained cheeks and red-rimmed eyes, " this 
 humble personage would fain accompany her 
 to gather the aforesaid delicious fruit." 
 
 Dick laughed. " All right, we'll give him 
 the first green one we find, won't we, Margery ? " 
 
 Unfortunately, Margery, to whom persim- 
 mons were a novelty, picked the first green 
 one.
 
 io8 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Ha ! Ha 1 " shouted Benjamin. " She looks 
 as though she had a drawing-string tied round 
 her mouth ! Have another one, Margie, do 1 " 
 
 But Margery, declaring that it would take 
 the rest of the day to get her mouth un- 
 puckered, declined to take any further inter- 
 est in persimmons, and wandered on toward 
 the creek. Here the boys pointed out the 
 swimming-hole, and showed her the diving- 
 board they had made. Benjamin ran to the 
 end of it, inviting her to " come and see how 
 nice it is." 
 
 Not to be outdone in grace and agility, 
 Margery ran out to the end of the narrow, 
 slippery board, and together she and Ben- 
 jamin bounced it up and down. 
 
 " Hasn't it a dandy spring ? " Benjamin 
 exulted. " Just look at me, Margery ! " 
 
 But alas, he gave a too vigorous jump, and 
 after balancing a moment with outstretched 
 arms, he made a desperate clutch at Margery 
 and they struck the water with a splash. 
 
 Margery had been carefully taught to swim 
 in a swimming-pool, and as she rose to the 
 surface she struck out for the shore. But she 
 found the cold creek a different matter from
 
 BEN J IE 109 
 
 the marble tank, her wet skirts were heavy 
 and in the way, and there was no swimming- 
 master to count encouragingly, " One, two, 
 thr-r-ree, one, two, thr-r-ree." 
 
 Despairingly, she reached out, her hands 
 encountered Benjamin's curls, and grabbing 
 them wildly, she pulled him under with her. 
 
 After what seemed an eternity a distant 
 voice somewhere beyond the rush of waters 
 seemed to say, " You're all right. I've got 
 you, and Sam's got the kid." 
 
 A moment later she and Dick were stand- 
 ing, wet and shivering, on the bank, where 
 Sam and Benjamin were already shaking 
 themselves like a pair of huge Newfoundland 
 dogs. 
 
 " Well," laughed Sam, " what were you 
 two kids trying to do ? Show off? Come on 
 now, you'll have to leg it, or you'll get a cold. 
 Scoot ! " 
 
 He grasped one of Margery's hands, Dick 
 took the other, and they started off on a run 
 for the house, Benjamin bringing up the rear. 
 
 Regardless of Deborah's clean kitchen and 
 immaculate hall, through the house they ran, 
 dripping water as they went.
 
 I io MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Gracious," cried Deborah, appearing at 
 the head of the stairs, one shoe on, and 
 agitatedly trying to smooth her disheveled 
 hair with the other. " Is anybody hurt ? 
 What has happened? You've just fallen in 
 the creek ? Thank goodness, if that's all I 
 Oh, Margery, are you injured? " 
 
 Startled, they all turned and gazed at 
 Margery. Margery herself gave a scream as 
 she discovered streaks of red running down 
 over her white serge froek. Dick shouted 
 with laughter. " Cheer up, Marge," he cried, 
 " it isn't gore, it's only the red from my 
 blazer I " 
 
 " Oh," and Deborah laughed with relief, 
 " if that's all we can make the best of it. 
 Now go change your clothes at once. You'll 
 have to lend some to Sam, Dick. Better 
 let him have that gray suit. Don't stand 
 there shivering, Margery, and come, Benja- 
 min, I hope you don't get your death of 
 croup." 
 
 Margery felt a little chilly from her im- 
 promptu dip, even after she had changed 
 her clothes, and her wet hair had been well 
 dried before the kitchen fire, so after supper
 
 BEN J IE 1 1 1 
 
 Dick built a fire of pine-knots in the library 
 fireplace, and the young people settled them- 
 selves with their books to enjoy its glow. 
 Benjamin stretched himself out on the hearth- 
 rug with a battered volume before him, from 
 which he read to himself, half aloud, with the 
 absurd mouthings of the beginner at reading. 
 With a sudden little nervous pang, Margery 
 looked down at him, lying there so rosy in the 
 firelight. Suppose she had pulled him down 
 when she clutched his curls so wildly in that 
 cold creek ; suppose that now he were lying 
 all white and still ; suppose, it made her feel 
 very uncomfortable, and Margery hated to be 
 made to feel uncomfortable. With a shudder 
 she leaned over him. 
 
 " ' Aha, my men,' " he was reading in a 
 whisper, " ' Aha, my ' (Dick, what does 
 h-e-a-r-t-i-e-s spell ? Oh !) ' Aha-my-hearties- 
 
 are-you >' (Margery, what does c-o-w-a-r-d-s 
 
 spell ? Oh !) ' Are-you-cowards-I-will-do-the- 
 brave-deed ' " 
 
 " What are you reading, Benjamin ? Let 
 me see it." 
 
 Benjamin rolled over on his back like a 
 lazy kitten, and obediently handed the grimy
 
 ii2 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 volume to Margery. As she took it, Margery 
 shuddered even more than she had done at 
 the thought of Benjamin's possible watery 
 grave, and carefully held it by the extreme 
 tips of her fingers. It was a book far too old 
 for him, which he had borrowed from another 
 boy at the price of three nearly new wire- 
 nails, and a spent tennis-ball ; one of those 
 remarkable publications on which so many 
 youthful minds are fed, in which incredibly 
 brave and wise boys of fifteen or sixteen per- 
 form deeds on land and sea, in the air, and 
 the waters under the sea, such as mortal never 
 essayed before. And not only do they accom- 
 plish these marvels, but as a side issue they 
 foil an unbelievably wicked villain ; win the 
 gratitude of a middle-aged admiral or general 
 for teaching him his business ; rescue a start- 
 lingly beautiful maiden, and restore her lost 
 millions to her; all with an airy nonchalance 
 overwhelming to contemplate. 
 
 " I think," said Margery, as with fastid- 
 iously upturned nose she gingerly turned the 
 torn leaves, " that I have a nicer book up- 
 stairs. It's cleaner, at any rate. Wait a min- 
 ute, I'll go up and get it. And," she hesitated,
 
 BEN J IE 113 
 
 then went bravely on, " I'll read to you, for 
 a little while." 
 
 Benjamin scrambled up, all eagerness. 
 "Will you, Margie? Goody, it's awful hard 
 work I have to spell out so many words." 
 
 The Jungle Book appealed to Margery as 
 the most suitable among the books her mother 
 had insisted on packing, and when she and 
 Benjamin were cozily settled on the old hair- 
 cloth sofa before the fire, she began the story 
 of Rikki-tikki-tavi. 
 
 As the reading commenced, Benjamin sat 
 bolt upright, with his brow knitted in a very 
 grown-up manner copied from Dick, but little 
 by little he crept closer and closer to Margery, 
 and at last snuggled his head down on her 
 shoulder like the little boy he really was. In 
 her heart, Margery was tired and homesick, 
 and his nearness was comforting ; she slipped 
 her arm around him and leaned her face down 
 on his curly pate with a half-formed wish that 
 she, too, had a little brother. Tick, tock, tick, 
 tock, droned the tall old clock in the corner, 
 and with each swing of the pendulum a little 
 more sweetness, a little more womanliness 
 crept into Margery's nature, although she read
 
 114 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 on all unknowing, unconscious as people are 
 in those quiet big moments of their lives. The 
 backlog fell with a shower of sparks, and 
 Margery, finishing one of the few unselfish 
 deeds of her life, closed the book with a bang. 
 
 " That's the very end of the story, honey. 
 And it's lucky that it is, for my voice is used 
 up." 
 
 " Bed, Benjie," announced Deborah, appear- 
 ing at the door at that moment. 
 
 Benjamin yawned, and slid down from the 
 sofa. " Oh, Deborah, I'm not a bit sleepy, and 
 
 I don't have to go to bed yet, I " The 
 
 rest of the words were lost in another yawn. 
 
 " Come along, young man." 
 
 Recognizing the inevitable, Benjamin met 
 it manfully. " All right then, I'll go up, 
 and you needn't come, Deborah, until I call 
 you to put out the lamp." He stopped before 
 Margery on his way to the door, and throwing 
 his arms around her neck, planted a kiss 
 squarely between her nose and her left ear. 
 " Well, I don't care," he said defiantly to Sam 
 and Dick, over his shoulder, " I'm glad Mar- 
 gery has come, for I love her awful much ! "
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 SCHOOL 
 
 IT was cold and rainy the next morning 
 when Margery woke to find Deborah stand- 
 ing by her bedside. 
 
 " Come, dear," said the housekeeper, open- 
 ing the shutters, "it is half-past six. You 
 had better get up, if you feel that you want 
 to go to school to-day." 
 
 With a final word as to the advisability of 
 a warm frock, Deborah left the room, and 
 Margery, drawing the bedclothes closer under 
 her chin, cuddled down deeper in the snug 
 hollow under the covers. She did not feel at 
 all like getting up ; her back ached, her neck 
 was stiff, and she had a bad cold in her 
 head. 
 
 " I can't get up," she whimpered softly. 
 " I'm tired and I've got a cold. Mamma 
 would never let me go out on a day like 
 this." 
 
 115
 
 n6 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 Her aching eyelids closed, and she drowsed 
 off again. 
 
 A tremendous bang at the door awoke her 
 with a start. 
 
 " I say, Margery," Dick's voice came through 
 the panels, " aren't you ready yet? We've 
 eaten most of the hot cakes." 
 
 With a bound Margery landed on the floor. 
 
 " Yes, Dick I'm almost dressed." 
 
 Her truth-loving nature aghast at the fib 
 she had just involuntarily uttered, she scurried 
 around to make it a fact. Dashing frantically 
 into her clothes, she smoothed back her curls 
 with a few vigorous strokes of the brush, 
 stuck her face into a basin of cold water, and 
 ran down the stairs, tying the silk scarf of her 
 blue serge sailor suit as she went. 
 
 The scramble set her blood going, and the 
 glow lasted until breakfast was over and she 
 was well down the road with the boys on the 
 way to school. It had stopped raining, but 
 the sun had not succeeded in pushing its way 
 through the clouds, and where their path led 
 through the woods the air seemed icy cold, 
 and every breath of wind sent a spatter of 
 raindrops down from the dripping trees. The
 
 SCHOOL 117 
 
 sandy road was wet and heavy, and the chil- 
 dren trudged along in silence. Dick was try- 
 ing to study his history lesson, and walked 
 along with his eyes on his open book. Ben- 
 jamin lagged behind looking for chincapins 
 and gathering pine-cones to throw at the 
 chipmunks that scampered along the tops of 
 the worm fences. Margery felt chilly and 
 miserable, and wished that she had not stood 
 out so obstinately against Dick's suggestions 
 at the breakfast table that she postpone her 
 school career until his grandfather came home. 
 Several times she was on the verge of announc- 
 ing that she would give up the idea of school 
 for the present, and of turning back to the 
 house, where at least she could be warm, and 
 possibly amused ; but the dread thought that 
 the following winter when she returned to 
 Miss Spencer's she might .have to drop back 
 into a class below Marie Smythe and her circle 
 gave her courage. Besides, Margery was not 
 a shirker, and once having set out to ac- 
 complish a thing it was seldom that she 
 turned back before the end was gained. 
 
 " Well, it's no use," Dick declared after he 
 had zigzagged off the path into a burr-patch,
 
 n8 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 "I'll just have to bluff history to-day," and 
 he closed his history book with a bang. " Are 
 you sure," stooping to pull off some dried 
 burrs sticking to his ankle, " that you really 
 want to begin school to-day sure you hadn't 
 better wait ? " 
 
 Her secret falterings sharpened the edge to 
 her voice as she replied, " Of course I want to 
 begin school now." 
 
 " All right, then, I suppose I had better 
 take you to the principal, and you can make 
 your little speech to him." 
 
 They had reached the town by this time, 
 and a few minutes' walk brought them to the 
 school. Renwyck's Town was one of the last 
 strongholds of the old American life, changing 
 now so rapidly under the influx of new people 
 and new ideals. Settled before the coming of 
 Penn to Pennsylvania by a little band of Eng- 
 lish Quakers who sought in the New World 
 the life of their Vision, added to a few years 
 later by another group, Church of England 
 people, who, being made welcome, gave their 
 share to its well-being, the little town still re- 
 tained in the twentieth century some of the 
 dignity and simplicity of that earlier life. In
 
 SCHOOL 119 
 
 the Friends' School, the only private school 
 in the town, the old ideas and ideals of those 
 first Quaker settlers still found expression. 
 
 The school building itself, like most of 
 Renwyck's Town, was old ; a square, red, box- 
 like affair. A high whitewashed fence en- 
 closed the school and protected it from the 
 profane gaze of the rare passer-by. The 
 young people from the Morris farm turned in 
 between the gate-posts, and Dick led the way 
 up a short flight of stone steps, worn into hol- 
 lows by the restless feet of five generations of 
 school children, and knocked at a door 
 marked " Office." 
 
 The rather stern old Quaker principal was 
 busily slipping into his overcoat and gather- 
 ing up various papers preparatory to hurrying 
 off to the city where he was to address an 
 educational meeting, as Dick and Margery 
 entered. With an absent-minded air he 
 listened to their explanations, but he smiled 
 kindly as he said, " Thy grandfather's grand- 
 daughter is welcome here. Just hand me that 
 portfolio, will thee please, Dick? Thee says 
 thee's fifteen, Margaret ? Oh, just fourteen. 
 Well, Dick, I think that thee had better take
 
 120 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 her to Teacher Rachel," and putting on his 
 broad-brimmed Quaker hat, he hurried off. 
 
 " Come on," said Dick, and Margery, her 
 spirits having revived in the warm school- 
 house, skipped nonchalantly up the stairs back 
 of him, all unconscious that she was entering 
 upon the most galling and unhappy days of 
 her short life. There was nothing about the 
 big many-windowed room to suggest that it 
 was a Valley of Humiliation ; yet for poor 
 Margery, from the moment that she crossed 
 its threshold and dipped a graceful curtsey 
 to Teacher Rachel, and a faint but unmistak- 
 able snicker had rippled over the class of boys 
 and girls, life there became something to be 
 lived through with clenched teeth and 
 tightened lips, and if the truth were told, often 
 with tear-brimmed eyes. 
 
 In her own school she had held a con- 
 spicuous place, her grace and beauty had been 
 made much of, and she had moved in a happy 
 vacuum whence all but the homage given to 
 her father's wealth and her mother's social 
 gifts had been withdrawn. Here and there, 
 some daring and anarchistic spirit had dubbed 
 her " stuck-up," but to the rest of Miss
 
 SCHOOL 121 
 
 Spencer's pupils she was " exclusive," and her 
 smiles and favors eagerly sought, and her in- 
 timates envied. It was not pure good-nature, 
 as Mr. Morris perfectly well recognized, which 
 led the ambitious mother of Marie Smythe to 
 urge that Margery spend the winter under her 
 care, but other considerations which made her 
 long to wear this choice rose in her button- 
 hole, as it were. 
 
 But Margery Morris at Miss Spencer's and 
 Margery Morris arriving a stranger, " un- 
 honored and unsung," at the Friends' School, 
 Renwyck's Town, seemed to be two different 
 people. In vain she let the glories of her life 
 at home be known to her schoolmates. Was 
 she, indeed, the daughter of a successful and 
 prominent man in the West? She was also 
 the granddaughter of old Mr. Morris in the 
 East, with whom their grandmothers and 
 grandfathers had gone to school, and known 
 all their lives, and who they themselves knew 
 to be a worthy man, but a most eccentric one, 
 much given to disputes with neighbors over 
 boundary fences. 
 
 Not that her schoolmates disliked Margery, 
 harder to bear by far, they merely considered
 
 122 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 her a joke. To them, as to the rustic or 
 youthful mind so often, what was unusual ap- 
 peared to be comic ; Margery's style and 
 manner was different from anything that they 
 had ever known before, therefore, it was 
 ludicrous. Her graceful curtseys were thought 
 to be a highly entertaining piece of affectation, 
 and her " English accent," carefully drilled 
 into her by a teacher from Chicago, was re- 
 garded as the acme of the ridiculous. What 
 damsel so dull that she could not pass for 
 witty by saying languidly, " Ahmaandah, 
 please pahss me the rubbah "; or what boy so 
 lumpish and uninteresting that he could not 
 shine in the girls' eyes by a cautiously ex- 
 ecuted curtsey behind Teacher Rachel's back ? 
 Not that they were really spiteful, or meant 
 to be unkind ; but they were young and 
 thoughtless, with that peculiar light-hearted 
 cruelty of youth, and they were carried away 
 by their own wit. Indeed, most of them 
 could have said with Lady Teazle, " When 
 I say an ill-natured thing, it is from pure 
 good nature." 
 
 Margery held her head higher and looked 
 haughtier than ever, and told herself that she
 
 SCHOOL 123 
 
 did not care what a " parcel of country 
 bumpkins " said, or did. And the " country 
 bumpkins," meeting her cold glances and un- 
 gracious manner, in turn revenged themselves 
 by wilfully neglecting her, and so the gap be- 
 tween them grew wider and wider. However 
 superior one may feel, it is not pleasant at 
 fourteen to sit by a window feigning a deep 
 interest in the boys' football practice in the 
 school-yard below, while across the room a 
 group of happy girls spend their recess perched 
 on their desks, chattering like the happiest of 
 birds, and sharing those delightfully sticky 
 cinnamon buns dear to schoolgirl hearts. 
 The more she told herself that she did not 
 care, the more she did care ; she had to admit 
 to herself that they were a likable lot of young 
 people, and that she should be glad to be on 
 good terms with them. 
 
 It was mortifying, too, to have Dick see 
 her humiliation, and to suspect that the sud- 
 denly improved behavior of several young 
 gentlemen had been effected by Dick and 
 Sam, and the school pump. 
 
 Only in Deborah, who suspected so much 
 of how things were going at school, and
 
 124 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 wisely said so little, did she find comfort ; 
 and in Benjamin, who lavished his affection 
 upon her and paid her tribute with the dear- 
 est of his treasures : a dried hoptoad, a ball 
 of putty, a carved peach stone, a lame chicken, 
 several arrow-heads, and an electric torch that 
 had neither bulb nor batteries. 
 
 " Why don't you try to make friends with 
 Polly Jameson, Margery ? " suggested Dick 
 as they walked to school together on Friday 
 morning ; " she's got more sense than all the 
 rest of the girls put together. She's the 
 most popular girl in the school, too ; all the 
 girls think she's ' simply perfect ' " Dick 
 minced affectedly in what he took to be a 
 girl's voice " and all the boys like her, too," 
 he finished more naturally. " She looked at 
 you last Sunday as though she would like to 
 know you. Funny, everybody likes Polly." 
 
 Margery hung her head and did not an- 
 swer. She knew in her heart of hearts that 
 she might have had Polly Jameson as her 
 friend and champion if she had not snubbed 
 her so unmercifully that first morning at 
 school, when Polly, all smiles and blushes, 
 had come forward to meet her and to make
 
 SCHOOL 125 
 
 her welcome. Margery had liked her appear- 
 ance when she had first seen her in church, 
 and had thought that if Polly went to the 
 Friends' School she might be a pleasant ac- 
 quaintance ; but accustomed as she was to 
 being courted, Margery had felt that she was 
 the one to make the advances. Accordingly, 
 she had found Polly's eager friendliness pre- 
 mature, and had treated her with a politeness 
 so freezing that the other girl, who was proud 
 and sensitive, made no further attempts at 
 cordiality. 
 
 " Why don't you try making friends with 
 Polly ? " prodded Dick as Margery did not 
 answer. 
 
 " I'll I'll try," mumbled Margery, meekly. 
 " Why, there she is now." 
 
 Tall, and as she herself expressed it, 
 " skinny as an umbrella rib," Polly carried 
 herself with a certain air of energy and inde- 
 pendence that was decidedly attractive. She 
 had a good square chin and a rather long 
 nose, just now very much sunburnt at the 
 tip. Her chief claim to beauty lay in her 
 sparkling brown eyes, which she herself 
 scorned. (All her favorite heroines boasted
 
 i 2 6 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 large, languid, forget-me-not blue orbs.) 
 Her thick black hair alone pleased her, and 
 of that she was rather vain. She usually 
 wore it braided into a long pigtail, which to 
 emphasize its length was ornamented at the 
 extreme tip by a flaunting scarlet bow. 
 
 When Margery entered the cloak room, 
 Polly was standing before the mirror, trying 
 with much twisting to see the back of her 
 waist. " You poor fish," she was muttering 
 wrathfully to herself, " you are a sight, with 
 all those safety pins showing in your belt 
 and nary a belt ribbon to cover them, you 
 can't go up-stairs looking like that." 
 
 Margery hesitated a moment ; should she 
 attempt to make friends with Polly now ? 
 Something told her to try, and she stepped 
 forward with a new timidity. " You've lost 
 your belt ribbon, haven't you ? " she began. 
 
 " Oh," shrieked Polly, wheeling around 
 wild-eyed. " Mercy," she laughed, as she saw 
 Margery, " you did startle me, do forgive me 
 for yelling at you like that! I didn't hear 
 you come in. I've a crazy habit of talking 
 to myself, -just like our old colored cook. 
 Yes, I've forgotten to put on my belt ribbon,
 
 SCHOOL 127 
 
 and I won't have time to go home for 
 
 one." 
 
 " I can help you, I think," said Margery 
 eagerly. " I can perfectly well get along 
 without my hair ribbon, and it will do for\a 
 makeshift belt, fortunately, it's black, so 
 that it won't show so much." 
 
 Polly looked at Margery's flushed, eager 
 face, evidently puzzled. What had suddenly 
 come over this cold, distant stranger with the 
 somewhat affected manner and haughty airs ? 
 Suddenly Polly smiled, a friendly, under- 
 standing smile. " You're a jewel," she said 
 heartily. " If you're sure that you can spare 
 the ribbon, I should appreciate it ever so much." 
 
 Together they untied Margery's hair ribbon 
 and wrapped it around Polly's waist, where it 
 made an inoffensive, if not particularly ar- 
 tistic, belt. Just as they had finished pinning 
 it the bell rang. 
 
 " Gracious, Margery," Polly exclaimed, 
 " there's doom ! Come on." As they ran up 
 the stairs, Polly slipped her arm through 
 Margery's. "Sit with me at recess to-day," 
 she whispered. " I have some extra-sticky 
 buns."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 ESTHER 
 
 " THEE may go to the board," said Teacher 
 Rachel to Polly Jameson, who sat beside her 
 half-hidden by the table, " and write out the 
 declension of domus." 
 
 Polly sat still. 
 
 " Yes, Teacher Rachel," she answered 
 sweetly at last. 
 
 Teacher Rachel waited. " I don't believe 
 that thee understood. I want the declension 
 of domus written on the board." 
 
 A sound of thumping came suddenly from 
 under the table. 
 
 " Yes, Teacher Rachel," murmured Polly 
 with unaccustomed meekness, but still not 
 getting up. 
 
 " Hurry, child ; thee is very slow to-day." 
 
 There was more thumping, and Polly turned 
 scarlet and squirmed uneasily, but still failed 
 to rise. 
 
 11 Hurry, Polly ! " 
 
 128
 
 ESTHER 129 
 
 " Yes, Teacher Rachel." 
 
 " Polly ! " 
 
 " Yes, Teacher Rachel." 
 
 " Polly, go to the board at once." 
 
 " Yes, Teacher Rachel." 
 
 " Polly, I do not understand thee to-day, 
 thee is usually so obedient. Now I want thee 
 to stop saying, ' Yes, Teacher Rachel,' and do 
 what I say at once." 
 
 " Yes, Teacher Rachel," and Polly ducked 
 under the long table-cover. 
 
 " Mary Jameson ! " 
 
 The bumping and thumping became violent 
 and prolonged. 
 
 " Mary," cried the now thoroughly ex- 
 asperated teacher, " come out from under that 
 table." 
 
 The table heaved convulsively, then settled 
 down again. 
 
 A suppressed, half-scared titter rippled over 
 the class. Teacher Rachel rapped with her 
 ruler for order, and settled back in her chair 
 with a sigh. 
 
 " We are waiting, Mary," she announced as 
 the table heaved again. 
 
 A final thump, and, giggling and confused,
 
 I 3 o MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 Polly reappeared from under the table, and 
 with a do-or-die expression on her crimson 
 face hopped to the blackboard, both feet 
 firmly wedged in Teacher Rachel's neat, lady- 
 like little scrap-basket. 
 
 Poor Teacher Rachel, whose sense of humor 
 had been sadly shrunk in the bitter waters 
 of two decades of teaching, frowned at the 
 hilarious class and rose with dignity. 
 
 " Will thee explain this astonishing per- 
 formance?" she requested of the now purple 
 Polly. 
 
 " It it was this w-way," stammered the 
 performer, screwing round scrap-basket and 
 all, " I I well, I never did care very much 
 for Latin, and and well," with a sheepish 
 grin, "I just thought that it would be fun 
 to put my feet in the scrap-basket. I'm sure I 
 don't know why I happened to think of it, 
 except that the basket was there. But really, 
 Teacher Rachel, I never dreamed I'd get stuck, 
 really I didn't." 
 
 " Remove thy feet." 
 
 Polly hesitated, glanced at Dick, who 
 winked at her, giggled hysterically, and 
 snickered out :
 
 ESTHER 1 3 1 
 
 " I I can't 1 They're stuck it's so nar- 
 row at the bottom." 
 
 "Sit down." 
 
 There was a world of warning in that tone, 
 and looking rather scared, Polly hopped to 
 the nearest chair and plumped down, and 
 her disgusted teacher yanked off the offend- 
 ing footgear. 
 
 " Now, Mary, leave the room. The class 
 will please come to order." 
 
 Polly sidled out of the door with osten- 
 tatious meekness, and the class subsided ; 
 although every now and then some one would 
 give vent to something that began suspiciously 
 like a chuckle, but which always ended dis- 
 creetly in a cough. 
 
 Polly disappeared directly school was over, 
 and Margery, who took her luncheon at school, 
 started on the walk home without seeing her. 
 
 It was a glorious day ; old Dame Nature 
 seemed bent on giving a farewell gala per- 
 formance before she should retire under soft 
 white blankets for the winter. The sky was 
 brilliantly blue ; here and there roly-poly 
 little white clouds chased each other across 
 it like frolicsome kittens. As she skipped
 
 132 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 and slid along the woodland path, slippery 
 with pine-needles, Margery suddenly realized 
 that she was happy ; happy as the little gray 
 squirrels that chattered in the tree tops and 
 leaped from branch to branch as if they could 
 not contain themselves for joy. A little brown 
 rabbit scampered across the path, and she 
 stopped to watch it. 
 
 " Dick," she said softly, "doesn't that bunny 
 remind you of Deborah ? There's something 
 awfully nice about her, isn't there?" and she 
 fcmiled to herself as she thought how pleased 
 Deborah would be to hear of her encounter 
 with Polly that morning, and of the latter's 
 friendliness. 
 
 " You bet, Deborah's a peach," Dick 
 agreed, stopping to shy a pine-cone at a 
 squirrel, which whisked out of sight with a 
 contemptuous flirt of its tail. 
 
 " And isn't Polly fun ? " Margery went on. 
 " She was ever so nice to-day, more like the 
 girls at home. We are going to have our 
 desks together, if Teacher Rachel will let us. 
 Where do you suppose she disappeared to after 
 school?" ' 
 
 As if in answer came a distant cry of
 
 ESTHER 133 
 
 " Polly, put the scrap-basket on ! " They 
 turned ; gleaming between the dark tree 
 trunks they could catch a glimpse of scarlet 
 wheels. 
 
 " It's Polly I " whooped Dick. " Just wait 
 until you see the horse she's driving, Marge. 
 His real name is Spy, but the fellows call 
 him Spry, he's so slow 1 Sit down and take 
 it easy, they'll get here in half an hour, 
 maybe." 
 
 With an exaggerated expression of patience, 
 Dick seated himself on a fallen tree trunk. 
 
 " Hello ! I thought maybe I'd overtake 
 you. Won't you get in, Margery ? " invited 
 Polly, as she drew up in a showy red-wheeled 
 cart pulled by a sleek, fat horse. " I am go- 
 ing over to see Esther Crowell, and I thought 
 you might like to meet her. She has the 
 place next to yours, and she is awfully nice. 
 You may come, too, if you want to, Dick," 
 she added with a laugh. 
 
 " Thanks, I'm a brave man, but I'm afraid 
 that Spry might run away with me," de- 
 clined Dick. " But Margery may go. Hop 
 up, Marge. Don't let Spry gallop too hard," 
 he warned as Polly shook the reins and
 
 134 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 clucked like an anxious hen, and the viva- 
 cious Spy moved slowly off. 
 
 " By the way, Cinderella-Polly," Dick called 
 after them, " your new slipper seemed quite 
 stuck on you." 
 
 " Wasn't it awful, Margery ? " Polly moaned. 
 " The most unromantic things are always hap- 
 pening to me I " 
 
 She sighed and flapped the reins up and 
 down on Spy's back. " I've just been back 
 apologizing to Teacher Rachel, she was per- 
 fectly sweet about it, too. I was awfully 
 ashamed of myself, really, for I know that 
 she suffers from neuritis terribly lately, and 
 it's mean to make her any more trouble than 
 we can help. But Agag just got hold of me 
 and put my feet in that scrap-basket ! Some- 
 times I get so tired fighting Agag that I 
 almost give up ! " 
 
 "Agag?" 
 
 Polly laughed. "Don't think that I am 
 crazy; it's something Mother told me about 
 one day when I had done something or other 
 particularly awful, even for me. Agag's your 
 worser self, you know, and you have to keep 
 fighting him all the time. It's from some-
 
 ESTHER 135 
 
 thing General Gordon said, he called it 
 Agag, and told some one that he had had 
 an awful time that morning ' hewing Agag 
 before the Lord.' I don't seem to be able to 
 1 hew ' very well, or rather, Agag jumps up 
 and catches me, before I have time even to 
 think of hewing him! Wasn't it unromantic, 
 though ! " she went on, flying back to the 
 subject of the scrap-basket. " Those people 
 who get into a scrape only once in a while 
 can afford to think that it's funny, but I'm 
 in a scrape almost all the time, and really, 
 Margery, it does get awfully mortifying some- 
 times." 
 
 Margery smiled absently, but made no an- 
 swer ; she was thinking. 
 
 " Promise that you won't tell a soul," Polly 
 demanded after they had jogged along quite 
 sixty seconds in silence. " Cross-your-heart 
 hope-to-die? Well," as Margery made the 
 required sign, " I'm writing a story about a 
 beautiful Russian countess named Olga, I've 
 simply got to have some romance in life I" 
 
 "Yes?" said Margery vaguely; she was 
 puzzling over Polly. What a queer girl Polly 
 was to think of such things as Agag ; yet she
 
 136 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 wasn't the least bit goody-good ! She won- 
 dered if she herself had not a " worser self," 
 as Polly called it, to fight. The idea of hew- 
 ing Agag appealed to Margery's rather mili- 
 tant spirit. 
 
 " Here's where Esther lives," Polly inter- 
 rupted her musing. " She doesn't go to school, 
 her mother needs her at home. I thought 
 it would be nice for you to know her she's a 
 whole lot pleasanter than some of those fishes 
 at school." 
 
 Margery's dormant sense of humor stirred a 
 little, as though some day it might awake. 
 " Anyway," she smiled, " she won't be able to 
 make curtseys at me behind Teacher Rachel's 
 back, because Teacher Rachel won't be 
 there," she added in case Polly might miss 
 the point of her small joke. 
 
 Polly laughed delightedly. " Why, you've 
 some fun in you after all," she said admiringly, 
 if somewhat outspokenly. " It isn't every girl 
 who can see a joke on herself! " 
 
 They turned into a private lane, and drove 
 up to the front of a rambling frame house, 
 surrounded by tall cedar trees which had been 
 trimmed bare of branches except a cluster
 
 WHY, YOU VE SOME FUN IN YOU, AFTER ALL
 
 ESTHER 137 
 
 at the very top, so as to let more sunshine get 
 through to the house, and which resembled 
 nothing so much as the shaved tails of French 
 poodle dogs. Margery had a confused feeling 
 that a whole family of gigantic canines must 
 have been buried alive and their tails left 
 sticking straight out. 
 
 " Polly," she said, and pointed to the trees. 
 
 Polly giggled as she jumped out of the cart, 
 and hitched her horse to a ring in one of the 
 trees. " Yes, aren't they killing ! Come on," 
 she added mysteriously, her finger on her lips. 
 
 As they tiptoed in at the open front door, a 
 sweet-faced woman met them ; she smiled 
 meaningly and pointed to the stairway ; Polly 
 smiled and nodded back, and seizing Margery's 
 hand began to run swiftly up the stairs, cau- 
 tioning her in a whisper not to make any 
 noise. At the top of two flights of steep, old- 
 fashioned stairs, they found a ladder leading 
 to a trap-door. Up the ladder Polly scram- 
 bled, pushed aside the door, and disappeared 
 with a wild flourish of heels. In a second her 
 flushed face appeared again, and she explained 
 to Margery that by resting her stomach on the 
 edge of the door-casing, balancing her feet out,
 
 138 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 and squirming round a bit, she could get up 
 quite easily. It did not sound easy to Mar- 
 gery ; but she kicked valiantly, rocked pre- 
 cariously on her fifth rib, clutched Polly des- 
 perately, and in a moment found herself 
 kneeling on the floor of a large, old-fashioned 
 garret. 
 
 As she panted for breath, she looked around 
 her with eyes wide open with astonishment. 
 She had never dreamed of such a place as that 
 garret. Indeed, it was a wonderful place ; 
 one that would have driven a collector wild 
 with joy. Furniture ran in the Crowell fam- 
 ily as pug-noses or irritable dispositions run 
 in others. At the time of their marriage Mr. 
 and Mrs. Crowell had set up housekeeping 
 with a house full of fine old heirlooms ; so 
 full that when Mr. Crowell's widowed cousin, 
 and later his spinster great-aunt had died and 
 the contents of their large, well-stocked houses 
 had been left to him, there was nothing to do 
 but to pile the extra furniture into the garret. 
 To sell it would have seemed to the Crowells 
 an insult to the memories of its former own- 
 ers ; although Mrs. Crowell, pressed by bills 
 and the needs of a large family of young chil-
 
 ESTHER 139 
 
 dren, thought wistfully, at times, of the sums 
 that old mahogany might have brought. 
 
 In the center of the garret a fine old carved 
 bed post leaned against an ancient high-boy 
 of quaint and rare design, and by a candle 
 stand sprawled a great wool spinning-wheel, 
 while behind them were piled a medley of old 
 Windsor chairs, high chests of drawers, and 
 tables of every degree of substantialness or friv- 
 olity. From the rafters old hoop-skirts dan- 
 gled cheek by jowl with great bunches of wild 
 bergamot and rosemary hung there to dry by 
 the careful housewife. At one side of the 
 attic a pile of old-fashioned trunks, covered 
 with calfskins with the hair left on, rose to 
 the low dormer roof. 
 
 "Hello, Polly?" called a voice from be- 
 hind the structure. 
 
 " Yes, my lady, 'tis Polly. Oh, ouch, 
 ouch I " In closing the heavy trap-door Polly 
 had pinched her finger. Sucking the injured 
 digit, she was rocking backward and forward 
 with the pain, when her eyes fell on Margery. 
 " Oh, Esther, come out quick," she begged. 
 " I've got Margery Morris here, I wish you 
 could see her face ! Oh, dear," she gasped
 
 140 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 rolling over, " it's too funny ! I forgot to ex- 
 plain about the garret, and now she looks so 
 bewildered. It's no wonder." 
 
 " No, indeed, it isn't," laughed a roly-poly 
 black-eyed girl, with a jolly, easy manner, 
 who came out from behind the pile of trunks. 
 " Neither of us is crazy," she explained, hold- 
 ing out her hand rather formally to Margery 
 as Polly introduced them. " It is just that I 
 have so many little brothers and sisters, they 
 won't give me a minute's peace, so when I 
 want to be quiet, I just hide up here. There's 
 a big door and a regular stairway that leads 
 down from here into the guest-room, but Polly 
 likes to come up by the ladder." 
 
 " It's shorter," declared Polly, wrapping her 
 finger in her handkerchief. " Besides, it's more 
 exciting, I'm always scared to death that some 
 of the kids will catch me on the way up." 
 
 '"Kids/" teased Esther. "Now, Polly, 
 what does Teacher Rachel say to thee about 
 the ' inelegancies ' of thy language ? Isn't 
 4 kids ' somewhat inelegant ? " 
 
 " That depends on the kids," grinned Polly. 
 " Come on now, Esther, do show Margery 
 your den."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE L. A. L. 
 
 MARGERY was surprised to find that the pile 
 of trunks partitioned off a little room from 
 the rest of the garret. Here Esther and her 
 mother had arranged a retreat where the 
 studious girl might read or study, safe from 
 interruption from the brood of little brothers 
 and sisters who loved her so dearly and who 
 imposed so upon her. 
 
 Only very keen eyes could have discovered 
 from the other side that there was anything 
 back of the pile of trunks but the home of 
 Mrs. Spider and Miss Mouse. But once inside 
 the den it was a cozy place. A rug was spread 
 on the floor and a gay Paisley shawl covered 
 a comfortable old-fashioned lounge. A big 
 mahogany desk was fitted up with a clean 
 blotter and writing materials, and gay pictures 
 were pinned to the quilts hung to hide the 
 trunks. Through a low dormer window, 
 
 141
 
 142 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Margery could see a wide vista of scarlet and 
 gold woods and lush meadows and far off the 
 blue creek winding its way to the river. 
 
 " Isn't this fun, Margery ? " Polly de- 
 manded. "Don't you just adore garrets? 
 It must have been awfully dull in the stone- 
 age." 
 
 The other girls laughed. " Now, Polly," 
 Esther asked, " what have garrets got to do 
 with the stone-age ? " 
 
 " Why, don't you see, they didn't have 
 garrets in the stone-age, therefore it must 
 have been very dull then. Half the fun of 
 life, when you are growing up, is to have a 
 garret to browse around in, and to dream in, 
 and to plan all the things you are going to 
 be, and never are, wait a minute before 
 we begin to talk, I stopped at Jimmie's on 
 the way out." 
 
 " Then we certainly won't be able to talk. 
 Old Jimmie is a Renwyck's Town institution," 
 Esther explained to Margery. "He keeps 
 the funniest little store, has a little bit of 
 everything in it, and makes the most luscious 
 home-made caramels that you ever had. Do 
 sit on this end of the sofa. The springs are
 
 THE L. A. L. 143 
 
 rather broken at that end, and you can get 
 a better view from the window here." 
 
 Well supplied with caramels, Margery 
 curled up in the corner of the old sofa, from 
 which she could watch a hawk wheeling 
 through the air, while Polly rehearsed for 
 Esther's benefit the tragedy of the scrap- 
 basket. 
 
 " Agag got the upper hand to-day, didn't 
 he, Polly ? " teased Esther. " Pretty Polly, 
 have a scrap- basket? " 
 
 " Oh, my dear, the struggles I have with 
 that Agag ! Oh, good lack-a-day I Look 
 what I've done ! " Polly, heedlessly jumping 
 up to show Esther exactly how she had had 
 to hop to the board, had dropped the bag of 
 caramels and scattered its contents over the 
 floor. " Most of them are under the sofa, 
 too ! " she lamented. " Well, never mind, 
 I'll do the groveling," and her head and 
 arms disappeared under the sofa. 
 
 " Girls," came a muffled voice, " I've a per- 
 fect plan wait until I get out from under 
 here, and I'll tell you." 
 
 " All right, we'll wait," and Esther leaned 
 over slyly to tickle the back of Polly's ankle.
 
 I 4 4 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Stop that, you villain ! There ! I think 
 I've got the last one," and Polly's face, red 
 and somewhat dusty, reappeared. " It didn't 
 hurt the caramels a bit, each one is covered 
 with paper, anyway. Well, as to my plan, 
 or ' to return to our muttons ' as the poet hath 
 it, it just struck me, under the sofa, and I 
 want you to agree to it," and she threw a 
 meaning look at Esther. 
 
 " All right, I agree," Esther chimed in. 
 She adored Polly, and usually followed where 
 she led. 
 
 " Don't you think that it's fun up here, 
 Margery ? " continued Polly. 
 
 " Indeed I do," Margery agreed sincerely. 
 After her unhappy week at school, the cozy 
 little den and these courteous, amiable girls 
 seemed very pleasant to her. 
 
 "Well," went on Polly, "don't you think 
 that it would be fun if we had a little club, 
 and met here once or twice a week ? " and 
 she glanced meaningly at Esther again. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," Esther acquiesced, as com- 
 manded by the look. 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Margery, unconscious of 
 Polly's signals. " What kind of a club ? "
 
 THE L. A. L. 145 
 
 " We'll decide that later, first, I must have 
 a staff of office as promoter. Come help me 
 get one, Esther." As the two girls disap- 
 peared into the outer garret, Polly whispered 
 to Esther, " The girls at school are hateful to 
 her. We have just got to help her, and see if 
 we can't make things so that she won't be 
 quite so lonely. She seems awfully nice, if 
 she is rather airyfied." 
 
 " Sshh," cautioned Esther ; " she will hear 
 you. Yes, Sam told me the other day that the 
 girls were inclined to make fun of her. How 
 long is she to stay with the Morrises ? " 
 
 " All winter, I think." 
 
 When Polly reappeared she carried a huge 
 old green cotton umbrella, tied around its 
 waist with a piece of string, which she pounded 
 dramatically on the floor as she announced : 
 
 " It having been decided upon that a club 
 shall be formed, the object of the club will 
 now be sat upon. Our distinguished visitor 
 shall have first choice." 
 
 " I think that a social club would be nice," 
 Margery suggested, as distinctly as she could 
 for laughing, " and we could give dances and 
 things."
 
 146 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 Polly groaned. " Niver. The shpectacle 
 of me sproightly silf doin' the ' loight 
 fantastic ' would be enough to make the ould 
 cow die of hysterics. No, we'll have to have 
 somethin' proivate and select-loike." 
 
 " I think a club for the suppression of 
 Polly's mischief would be a good thing, 
 only we'd all die of overwork," and Esther 
 dodged the caramel that Polly threw at her. 
 
 Polly knocked violently on the floor with 
 the umbrella. " We must be serious, do 
 let's think, don't you think that a literary 
 club would be nice? It would help us with 
 our careers, too." Polly's modest ambition 
 was to be the greatest living author, and as a 
 side issue, when resting from turning out the 
 Great American Novel, to be something of an 
 improvement on Reynolds and Gainsborough 
 as a portrait painter. 
 
 Margery demurred. " I couldn't write a 
 story if my life depended on it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, you could. Polly and I write 
 lots of them; they are perfect!}' crazy, of 
 course, but we have lots of fun doing it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, Margery," Polly added her voice, 
 " you know you can, you could give a tone
 
 THE L. A. L. 147 
 
 to our humble efforts, write us some stories 
 of socoiety-loife." 
 
 Margery laughed, and gave in. 
 
 " The motion is put that this be a literary 
 club, will somebody please second the mo- 
 tion ? " Polly had once read a book on 
 parliamentary rules of order. 
 
 " I'll second it," Esther dutifully complied. 
 
 " I third it," Margery contributed, and was 
 promptly ruled out of order by Polly. 
 
 Polly banged the umbrella against the 
 floor. " Now, for the name." 
 
 " I think that we ought to have something 
 in it about a tower-room," suggested Margery, 
 who had been much impressed by the romance 
 of the little hidden room. 
 
 " To be, or not tower be." This dreadful 
 pun from Esther aroused Polly's ire, and she 
 waved the umbrella menacingly, as she im- 
 plored them, " Please be serious ! " 
 
 " All right. What would you suggest, 
 Pollykins ? " 
 
 " Don't know, haven't an idea, never 
 have when I want one." 
 
 " Oughtn't we to name it after somebody ? " 
 Margery asked. " Shakespeare, or somebody
 
 148 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 like that or or " certain Lenten readings 
 of her mother's coming to her mind 
 " Maeter Maeter Maeterlinck, or some of 
 those funny people." 
 
 Esther agreed. " Yes, I think that a lit- 
 erary club ought to be named after a writer." 
 
 But " after what writer ? " was the problem, 
 and suggestions ranged all the way from 
 Mother Goose to Homer and Mark Twain. 
 
 " I have it," Polly cried at last. " She had 
 a tower-room, too, so that brings in Margery's 
 tower." 
 
 " Who did ? " 
 
 " Lady Anne Lindsay, of course." 
 
 Esther and Margery looked blank. 
 
 " Please enlighten us, Polly," Esther re- 
 quested. " Was Lady Anne Lindsay a 
 writer, an historical character, or a race- 
 horse? You never can tell with Polly," she 
 explained to Margery ; " for days she raved 
 about a lovely Lady Jane, finally, it came 
 out that the mysterious Lady Jane was a 
 dachshund that she had seen at the dog- 
 show." 
 
 Polly was dignified. " Lady Anne Lindsay 
 was the author of ' Auld Robin Gray ' I'm
 
 THE L. A. L. 149 
 
 surprised at your ignorance. Ever since yes- 
 terday I've known that she wrote it." 
 
 " Oh, you mean the song," and Margery 
 Bang, " I wish I were dead, but I'm no like to 
 dee," words that chimed in well with her 
 sentiments during much of her stay, so far, 
 in Renwyck's Town. 
 
 Polly beamed approval. " That's it. I 
 wish that I could sing the way you do ! I 
 can't even carry a tune. Well, Lady Anne 
 Lindsay really did have an interesting life 
 especially when she was a girl. Cousin 
 Elizabeth is visiting us, and she read about 
 her to Mother and me last night. Perhaps 
 you have heard of Cousin Elizabeth, Mar- 
 gery? She's Elizabeth Hoover, the writer, 
 you know." 
 
 Margery had heard of Miss Hoover, who 
 happened to be the novelist and playwright 
 of the moment, and who had even been so 
 fortunate as to win the high approval of 
 Marie Smythe, who had voted one of her 
 lighter dramas " perfectly sweet." Margery 
 looked at Polly with new respect. 
 
 " Tell us about this Lady Mary Lindley, 
 Polly," Esther requested.
 
 1 50 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Lady Anne Lindsay ! Treat the lady with 
 respect, remember that you are to be named 
 after her. Well," Polly took a deep breath 
 and began, " she lived a couple of hundred 
 years ago in a lonely castle away up on the 
 east coast of Scotland. And though they 
 lived in a castle and had titles and all that, 
 they were really awfully poor. And the girls 
 had to have their frocks made out of strips of 
 their mother's wedding dress, pieced out with 
 some blue gauze that they had which must 
 have gotten awfully in the way when they 
 rode on the pig's back. . . ." 
 
 " Did they have to ride the pig because 
 they were so poor?" put in Esther, at her 
 favorite game of teasing Polly. 
 
 " Of course not, goosie. For fun, they 
 were up to anything. Their father was 
 terribly old," Polly continued, " and he was 
 awfully funny. He wore a wig with three 
 pigtails hanging down over his shoulders, but 
 he had beautiful manners, and he was so 
 polite that he wouldn't hurt a fly. One day 
 he caught an old woman stealing his turnips 
 from one of his fields, he started to scold her, 
 but he ended by lifting the big bag of stolen
 
 THE L. A. L. 151 
 
 turnips for her, because it would not be polite 
 to let a woman lift anything heavy. But 
 their mother was awfully cross one day they 
 all ran away." 
 
 " Why ? " questioned Margery. 
 
 " Well, they just ran away. They said 
 that their mother made their home ' horrious.' 
 They went in a procession, in single file, the 
 biggest one at the head with the baby on his 
 back, and the littlest toddler bringing up the 
 rear. Their old shepherd, Robin Gray, ran 
 to their mother and said, ' Oh, my lady, all 
 the ledies, an' all the young gentlemen, an' 
 all the dogs is run awa' ! ' So their mother 
 sent after them, and they were caught and 
 brought home, and then," Polly finished with 
 a laugh, " their mother gave them an awful 
 dose of medicine all round, to make home 
 seem pleasanter to them." 
 
 " Go on. What happened to Lady Thinga- 
 mabob when she grew up ? " Esther probed. 
 As Sam said, Esther always got " at the root 
 of the matter, if it took the last pig in the 
 pen." 
 
 " Oh, she grew up, and became a great belle 
 in Edinburgh when she went there to visit.
 
 1 52 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 And one day, up in her tower-room, she wrote 
 ' Auld Robin Gray.' There, I'm tired of talk- 
 ing, for once ! " 
 
 Margery leaned forward eagerly. " Oh, it 
 was fine, Polly, do let's call the club the 
 Lady Anne Lindsay Club," and Margery 
 looked at Polly admiringly. Polly had an 
 unusually sweet speaking voice, and a dra- 
 matic way of telling the simplest story, as 
 well as an unconsciousness and naturalness 
 that were very winning. Margery was shocked 
 to find himself thinking that Marie Smythe 
 was insipid beside this vivid creature. 
 
 " We can call the club the L. A. L. for 
 short. And we won't let the boys know a 
 thing about it. Remember, Margery, don't let 
 it out to Dick. Now, Margery, it's your turn 
 to give us a story. I'll get some pears as my 
 part of the entertainment, I'm too dumb for 
 anything more ' high brow,' as Polly says," 
 and Esther brought some of the biggest and 
 juiciest of the pears that had been spread 
 to ripen slowly between old quilts on the floor 
 of the outer garret. 
 
 Margery felt embarrassed ; she hated to ap- 
 pear as a stupid, uninteresting sort of person
 
 THE L. A. L. 153 
 
 before these clever girls. " I can't think of a 
 thing to tell you," she regretted, as she bit 
 into her pear. " I wish I could." 
 
 " Oh, just try," urged Esther. 
 
 Polly got up. " I'm sorry, but the shadows 
 are getting pretty long, and if I'm to drive 
 you home, I'm afraid that we had better be 
 going." 
 
 Margery got up too, rather reluctantly. 
 She was putting on her jacket, when a thought 
 struck her. " Oh, I do remember something 
 to tell you," she cried, standing with one arm 
 half in her jacket sleeve. " It's some verses a 
 Scotch lady that was visiting us one time 
 taught me. They're written by an old Scotch- 
 man. The first poem is very sad. It's called 
 a ' March Day.' ' She began solemnly : 
 
 11 l First it frizz, and then it thew, 
 Soon it rained, and then it snew, 
 And then it blew, most horrid ! ' " 
 
 " Oh, Margery,"' Polly cried, delightedly, 
 " that's a gem ! You'll have to come and 
 recite it to Cousin Elizabeth, she's crazy 
 about things like that." 
 
 " Did he mean to be funny ? " askedi Esther. 
 
 " No indeed. He thought that he was a
 
 154 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 great poet, as great as Robert Burns. There's 
 another one ' The Hen,' it's called : 
 
 " ' The heii it is an awful beast, 
 It plays about our door, 
 And every day it lays an egg, 
 Or one, or two, or three, or four, 
 Or so, or more. ' ' ' 
 
 " Dear me," laughed Esther, who got the 
 " egg money " of the household poultry-yard 
 as a perquisite, " I wish that our hens could 
 lay like that." 
 
 "Do you know any more?" demanded 
 Polly, holding Margery's jacket and doubling 
 her arm into the sleeve as though Margery 
 had been a baby. 
 
 " Only one." 
 
 " Proceed." 
 
 Margery beamed. " This one was written 
 when the Ayr bridge fell down," she an- 
 nounced. " Here it is : 
 
 " ' The brig fell doon, wi' sic a stoon, 
 The fishes ran frae toon tae toon, 
 Ah, what a day that nicht !' " 
 
 " Don't forget the L. A. L. ! " reminded 
 Esther as, still laughing, she accompanied her 
 friends down the stairway that led from the
 
 THE L. A. L. 155 
 
 garret into a quaintly furnished guest-room, a 
 somewhat tamer mode of descent than the 
 trap-door. " I'm awfully glad that you have 
 come to Renwyck's Town." 
 
 Margery smiled with the winning gracious- 
 ness she knew so well how to assume, when 
 she happened to feel like it. " Thank you," 
 she returned sweetly. Then raising her eyes 
 to the frank faces of the two girls standing 
 arm in arm on the steps above her, she added 
 sincerely, " I've had an awfully jolly time this 
 afternoon, and do you know, I really believe 
 that I'm going to like Renwyck's Town, after 
 all."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 PUMPKINS 
 
 " WE won't let the boys know a thing about 
 it beforehand ! Be sure you don't let it out to 
 Dick, Margery." 
 
 " Honestly, Esther, I don't believe that he 
 would hear me if I did. He's too busy fuss- 
 ing because Grandpapa doesn't answer his 
 letters." 
 
 " Still, you had better not run any risks." 
 
 " Right you are, Esther," commented Polly, 
 sliding gracefully backward off the arm of 
 the sofa onto its broad seat. " If any of the 
 boys even look inquisitive, I shall say, 
 4 Avaunt, false knave ! Tremble and cower ! 
 Know ye not that ' " 
 
 " Now, Polly. ' do be serious,' " interrupted 
 Esther, wickedly quoting the expression so 
 often on Polly's lips. 
 
 But Polly refused to notice the gibe. 
 " Look out, Esther," she warned with mock 
 
 156
 
 PUMPKINS 157 
 
 solemnity, " some of these days a nice little 
 joke will come up to you, and if you aren't 
 careful, it might, well, it might bite you." 
 
 Esther laughed good-naturedly. " You 
 goose I " she murmured. 
 
 "What thinkest thou, fair Margaret?" 
 Polly chanted, waving one foot elegantly as 
 emphasis, " of ye jack-lanterns made ut of ye 
 golden pumpkins, which we purpose, on ye 
 hobgoblin occasion which ye vulgar hath 
 termed ' Hallowe'en ' 
 
 " I've a toofache in my tummy ! " wailed a 
 small voice. " Sister, I wants you I " 
 
 Margery poked her head out of the window 
 of Esther's little den, where the girls were 
 spending the afternoon on the Monday follow- 
 ing Polly's escapade with the scrap-basket. 
 " It's a little boy," she reported, " sitting 
 under the apple tree, the picture of woe." 
 
 " It's Jimmie," Esther sighed. " He's the 
 baby of the family, you know. I suppose 
 that he has been eating those apples again. 
 You'd think that he would have learned 
 better by this time." 
 
 " Poor kid ! " laughed Polly, getting up. 
 " I can sympathize with him. Come on, my
 
 1 58 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 young Christian friends, we had better go 
 down." 
 
 On cross-examination, Jimmie admitted 
 that the " toofache " was more a matter of 
 loneliness than of apples. His brothers and 
 sisters had gone off to hunt chestnuts, he 
 sobbed, and left him " ahind," and he was 
 correspondingly low in his mind. 
 
 The girls regarded him ruefully. They 
 had intended going to a neighbor's for a load 
 of pumpkins with which on Hallowe'en they 
 were to surprise the boys with a fine array of 
 jack-lanterns. 
 
 " Well, I'm afraid that I shan't be able to 
 go," Esther announced as she tenderly wiped 
 away the last tear trickling down Jimmie's 
 fat cheeks. " We can't take him, of course, 
 so I'll have to stay home and take care of 
 him. Mother has gone to Grandmother's, 
 and I suppose old Sarah is busy. She isn't 
 much use in looking after the youngsters, 
 anyway." 
 
 Polly scratched her nose meditatively with 
 a piece of apple twig. " I don't see why we 
 can't take him," she reflected. " He can sit 
 in the bottom of the wagon. Oh, my good-
 
 PUMPKINS 159 
 
 ness!" she screamed, jumping to her feet. 
 " Esther 1 There goes Jake with the wagon 
 now I Whoa I Whoa ! " 
 
 " Whoa 1 Whoa 1 " shrieked the others 
 frantically. " Oh, Jake, stop ! " 
 
 But Jake, the Crowells' " hired man," 
 could not, or would not, hear, and the cart 
 rattled out of the front gate, and down the 
 road. 
 
 " Well," said Margery, after a final, de- 
 spairing shriek, " that's always the way when 
 I try to have any fun." 
 
 " It's a shame," agreed Esther, forgetting 
 her own disappointment in sympathy for 
 Margery. 
 
 Polly leaned her back against the apple 
 tree, and continued thoughtfully to rub her 
 nose with a twig. " I wonder," she pondered 
 aloud, " if people often do get any fun when 
 they just expect it to drop from the skies into 
 their laps. In a sort of a way that's what we 
 are doing now. Really, the fun of having 
 fun is to have fun when there isn't any fun to 
 have. Now, I'm going down to the barn and 
 get a horse and cart, and we will get the 
 pumpkins yet."
 
 160 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Polly's philosophy found little response m 
 Esther. " I'm afraid, Polly," she demurred, 
 " that there isn't a horse or cart left in the 
 barn." 
 
 " There's Spy." 
 
 Esther smiled. " Now, Polly, do you really 
 suppose that we could carry any pumpkins in 
 that shaky brake-cart of yours? They'd all 
 roll out ! " 
 
 " I'll find a way to fix them." 
 
 " Bet you can't ! " 
 
 '* Bet I can, too," and with a laugh and 
 a little face at the girls, Polly disappeared 
 toward the barn. 
 
 Margery sfat down disconsolately on an 
 upturned peach-basket, while Esther knelt 
 before Jimmie, the pride and darling of the 
 Crowell family, trying to put him through 
 the paces of his accomplishments. "Now tell 
 Margery, Jimmie dear, what you saw at the 
 circus." 
 
 " Bears an' lelfunts." , 
 
 " Yes, 'dear, and you saw pretty ladies on 
 white horses, didn't you, dear?" 
 
 Jimmte's description of the pretty ladies 
 who rode the white horses at the circus was
 
 PUMPKINS 161 
 
 considered the most distinguished of his social 
 graces. 
 
 " Bears an' lelfunts." 
 
 " Yes, but Jimmie dear, weren't there any 
 pretty ladies ? " 
 
 " Bears an' lelfunts." 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie, you rascal I Can't you tell 
 Margery about the pretty ladies ? See, she's 
 waiting to hear about them." 
 
 Jimmie folded his fat little hands on his 
 fat little stomach, and sat down with a jounce 
 that would have been trying to any one fur- 
 ther away from the ground. " No," he said 
 firmly, " I'se told all my told, an' I'se got no 
 more told to told." 
 
 " Aha, ladies," came an exulting shout from 
 the barn. " Who said there wasn't a oart left ? 
 Look at this ! " 
 
 Dragging the fat and panting Jimmie with 
 them, Margery and Esther raced around the 
 corner of the house to the barn. There stood 
 Spy harnessed to a particularly old and rickety 
 dump-cart, two-wheeled, and painted a lan- 
 guishing pale blue, which, in its younger and 
 palmier days, had been used to haul gravel. 
 On the high front seat Polly sat cracking her
 
 162 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 whip over Spy, who turned his head now and 
 then to regard with mild astonishment this 
 strange vehicle which had been fastened upon 
 him. 
 
 " Hop up, ladies and gentlemen ! Hop 
 up ! Here, Marge, give me your hand. Oh, 
 clumsy ! Put your foot on the wheel. That's 
 the ticket. Now then ; boost Jimmie up 
 there now I've got him. All right, Esther? 
 Well, then, go on, Spy." 
 
 The road leading to the neighbor who had 
 offered them the pumpkins was a lonely one, 
 and only one person met them on the way to 
 be amused at their quaint vehicle. That 
 was old Dr. Huston who, scorning auto- 
 mobiles as inventions of the evil one, still 
 clung to his ancient steed, an animal only 
 less slow than Spy. He and Polly were great 
 friends, and many a good-natured race did 
 they run. 
 
 " Beat you this time, Polly," he called as 
 he came up beside her. 
 
 " 'Deed you won't ! " she called in answer, 
 giving a grand flourish to her whip. " Here 
 goes ! " 
 
 Bumpity, bumpity, bump, rattled the cart,
 
 PUMPKINS 163 
 
 the three girls clinging to the seat and to 
 Jimmie, laughing and shrieking shrill little 
 shrieks of feminine enjoyment, while Spy 
 humped along, struggling to keep abreast of 
 his ancient rival. But success was with the 
 doctor to-day, and he turned down a cross- 
 road, waving back a derisive hand at them. 
 
 " Well, we should have had to stop, any- 
 way," said Polly, always quite willing to 
 admit her own faults, but sensitive on the 
 subject of those of her pet. " Spy could beat 
 his old horse any day, but here's the field." 
 
 The girls scattered to search out the smaller 
 pumpkins that could easily be carried back to 
 the cart, and Margery, wandering across the 
 wide field, found herself shut off from the rest 
 of the world by long aisles of tall, yellow corn- 
 shocks. A crisp, October breeze, warmed by 
 the sun and coming from the ocean across 
 miles of redolent pine-barrens, rustled the 
 dried stalks, and a southward-bound thrush 
 paused to sing of the joys of the summer that 
 was gone. As Margery lifted her head to let 
 the wind blow through her curls, the spell of 
 the quiet, peaceful old land fell upon her, as 
 it has fallen upon many another, and although
 
 164 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 she was too young to analyze, or to under- 
 stand, she vaguely felt that no matter how far 
 she might wander, her heart would always 
 turn back to its woods and fields, and its 
 kindly, courteous people. 
 
 " I wish that I hadn't been so horrid about 
 coming," she thought. " I believe that there 
 is something in what Polly says about having 
 to fight Agag, I suppose that my Agag is 
 wanting to have my own way all the time. 
 I wish that I could do something big and 
 wonderful, something that would make the 
 whole world better and happier, and that 
 would make me famous," and like many an- 
 other girl, Margery dreamed of the great things 
 that she might do some day for the world at 
 large, and never once thought of the com- 
 monplace, little things that she might have 
 done at the present to make her own small 
 world a happier, smoother place : the cour- 
 teous answers that she might have given to 
 Dick's questions ; the frocks that she might 
 have picked up, and not left carelessly on bed 
 or chairs for Deborah to hang away ; the extra 
 petting that she might have yielded mother- 
 less little Benjamin.
 
 PUMPKINS 165 
 
 " Margery I Marg-ery ! " Polly's voice came 
 faintly on the breeze. 
 
 " Yes, coming ! " Hastily gathering up 
 her skirt, which fortunately was of good, stout 
 serge, to form a sort of bag, Margery filled it 
 with the smallest pumpkins that she could 
 find, and ran as speedily as she was able for 
 the heavy load bumping against her knees, 
 through the avenues of corn-shocks back to 
 the road. 
 
 " Margery ! " called Polly, as she drew near, 
 " what do you suppose we've done ? We've for- 
 gotten the tail-board ! Isn't that a mess I What- 
 ever shall we do ? " 
 
 " Tail-board ? What's that ? " 
 
 " The board that goes in the back of the 
 cart and holds things in. The pumpkins will 
 roll out without it, what shall we do ? " 
 
 " Can't we find another board ? " 
 
 " Nary a board to be found, we've 
 looked." 
 
 " Go back after it." 
 
 " Get us home too late." 
 
 " We're doomed," lamented Margery, feel- 
 ing that fate was most cruelly insisting on 
 making a martyr of her.
 
 1 66 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Esther laughed and pulled one of Margery's 
 curls, temptingly near. " There are more 
 ways of killing a cat than choking it to 
 death. You don't really suppose, do you, 
 Margery, that three such brilliant damsels 
 as we are going to be stumped by a little 
 thing like a tail-board ? I'll be tail-board." 
 
 " You f " 
 
 " Yes, I'll sit across the end and keep the 
 pumpkins in. See?" scrambling up to dem- 
 onstrate. " I can sit with my back braced 
 against this side, and my feet against that, 
 like this." 
 
 " Sure you won't tumble, Esther ? " queried 
 Polly. 
 
 " Pos-i-tive. Why, just look," and Esther 
 leaned back against one side of the cart, and 
 dug her heels into the other, with an expres- 
 sion of grim determination that was highly 
 impressive. 
 
 " All right, friend o' me heart," and Polly 
 picked Jimmie up in her arms. " Climb up, 
 Margery, you'll have to hold Jimmie, I 
 guess. Esther can't, of course, and I can't 
 hold him and drive, too. Here, take him." 
 
 But Margery shrank back. Jimmie was
 
 PUMPKINS 167 
 
 i 
 
 fat, and rather dirty, and very restless. She 
 had not enjoyed his proximity on the way to 
 the field, and she did not relish the idea of 
 bumping home again, over the rough roads, 
 in the springless cart, with the heavy child in 
 her lap. Besides, she wanted to continue 
 those beautiful, uplifting thoughts which she 
 had had in the corn-field ; and how is one to 
 make noble plans for elevating the world and 
 making one's self famous with a squirmy 
 child in one's arms? 
 
 " We-1-1 " she began lamely, with a 
 
 critical glance at the front of Jimmie's di- 
 minutive blue linen blouse. During the day 
 Jimmie had eaten a piece of bread and butter 
 and molasses ; had made some delectable 
 mud-pies ; had crawled under the back 
 kitchen after his escaping kitten ; had bor- 
 rowed some coal from the kitchen with which 
 to play coal-man ; and had shared its kennel 
 with the watch-dog ; to which facts his attire 
 bore circumstantial evidence. 
 
 Esther, hardened by custom to Jimmie's 
 decorations, and conscious that twice a day 
 he arose pearly-white from the bath-tub, 
 caught the expression of distaste on Margery's
 
 1 68 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 face, fleeting as it was, and her pride took fire 
 at once. Was the pride and darling of the 
 House of Crowell to be flaunted by a chit of 
 a girl from California ? Never. " Give him 
 to me, Polly," she said imperiously. " / will 
 hold him. I wouldn't think of allowing any- 
 body else to do it." 
 
 Polly looked puzzled. " Why, what's 
 struck you ? " she asked. " I don't think 
 that you ought to hold him, Esther. You 
 might drop him. Why don't you let Mar- 
 gery hold him ? " 
 
 If such a thing had been possible, big- 
 hearted Polly would willingly have dandled 
 the inmates of an entire orphan asylum on 
 her knee, and filled in the chinks between 
 children with half the lame puppies and stray 
 cats in the county. 
 
 But Esther was not to be moved. " No, 
 Polly, I'll hold Jimmie," she persisted. " I 
 have my reasons," she whispered, nodding 
 toward Margery. 
 
 Margery knew that she had wounded Es- 
 ther by her evident repugnance to the adored 
 Jimmie, and that she ought to make amends 
 by cordially offering to take charge of him,
 
 PUMPKINS 169 
 
 but self and self s comfort were dear, so she 
 merely shrugged her shoulders, and sat 
 watching a distant flock of sheep with a re- 
 markably detached expression. 
 
 Polly whistled softly. "Oh," she said, 
 with another glance at Margery. " So that's 
 it, is it ? But don't be silly, Esther. If Mar- 
 gery doesn't want to hold him, he can sit on 
 the seat beside her, and she can just steady 
 him, so that he won't fall off." 
 
 Margery felt herself grow hot with embar- 
 rassment ; she wished that she had said cor- 
 dially that she was willing to hold Jimmie ; 
 but now perverseness seemed to keep her 
 tongue-tied, and she sat silent, looking more 
 detached than ever. 
 
 Polly made a final attempt. " Do be sen- 
 sible, Esther. Of course Margery wants to 
 hold him ; you don't expect her to rave about 
 it, and beg for it, do you ? You want to hold 
 Jimmie, don't you, Margery ? " 
 
 But Margery was silent, and Esther was ada- 
 mant. " No, I'll hold him," Esther replied 
 with dignity, a hauteur that had its edge 
 blunted by the fact that Jimmie himself burst 
 into roars of grief. " I wants to sit wif Mar-
 
 170 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 gie ! " he howled. " I wants to sit wif 
 Margie ! " 
 
 The social atmosphere was somewhat cool 
 as the girls started on the homeward journey. 
 Esther and Polly were thoughtful, and Mar- 
 gery sat quiet, ashamed of the perverse spirit 
 which had betrayed her into the display of 
 selfishness, and seeking to justify herself in 
 her own eyes with the plea that Esther and 
 Polly were entirely unreasonable. 
 
 But the afternoon was too beautiful for any- 
 body to harbor hurt feelings, and the little 
 strain wore away as the girls bumped along 
 the road, Esther shrieking like a steam siren 
 every time that a rut sent the pumpkins roll- 
 ing against her, and Jimmie, in her arms, 
 laughing as though it were the greatest joke 
 that had ever happened. " Sing, Margery," 
 Polly commanded, and Margery started " My 
 Bonnie lies over the ocean." Esther and 
 Polly joined in, and even Jimmie lifted up his 
 shrill little pipe in, " Hey diddle, cat V fid- 
 dle," to a tune of his own invention. 
 
 " Oh isn't this fun ! " chanted Polly. 
 "Is is isn't it a lark?" And indeed, 
 as it was of their own volition that they were
 
 PUMPKINS 171 
 
 rattling over a rough road in a springless cart, 
 they found it a joyous adventure. If any 
 stern teacher or parent had required such a 
 thing from them they would have thought 
 themselves most cruelly used. 
 
 " When first I saw sweet Margery," warbled 
 Polly, " 'twas on a market day. A low-backed 
 car she rode in Whoa ! Spy ! Whoa 1 " 
 
 " Aha ! We've caught you, girls ! " shouted 
 Dick and Sam, who had jumped from behind 
 the hedge, and were prancing beside the cart 
 like a couple of wild Indians. " We've caught 
 you, pumpkins for jack-lanterns. Gee whili- 
 kens, Esther! Are you hurt?" 
 
 Spy had reared suddenly, and Esther, Jim- 
 mie, and the pumpkins lay in an ignominious 
 heap on the ground. 
 
 Esther sat up and rubbed her elbow. A 
 long smear of crushed pumpkin was on her 
 right cheek, and shreds of yellow decorated 
 her from head to foot. Around her lay the 
 pumpkins, broken and split open by their 
 fall, with their long strings of seeds spilled out 
 in the dusty road. " No, I'm only surprised," 
 she declared ; then, shaken and a little hys- 
 terical from her tumble, she began to laugh.
 
 172 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Reassured the others joined in. " When 
 first I saw sweet Esther," gasped Dick, " 'twas 
 on a market day a low-backed car she fell 
 out of upon a load of pumpkins ! " 
 
 " Elizabeth, Eliza, Betsy and Bess," chimed 
 in Sam, " all went out to rob a pumpkin 
 field " 
 
 But Esther had stopped laughing, and was 
 leaning anxiously over Jimmie. " Jimmie, 
 dear," she implored, giving him a little shake. 
 " Open your eyes and look at Sister, dear." 
 
 But the big blue eyes did not open. 
 
 Frightened, Esther looked up at the others. 
 " Something is wrong," she said in a low 
 voice. 
 
 Polly jumped down from the cart. " Baby 
 dear," she implored, bending over the uncon- 
 scious little form, " wake up oh, do wake 
 up!" 
 
 But Jimmie lay white and still. 
 
 Terror-stricken, the children looked at each 
 other. 
 
 " Oh, Jimmie, Jimmie," wailed Esther. 
 
 " We'll have to get a doctor as soon as we 
 can," said Sam, practically. 
 
 As though in answer to his words, Dr. Hus-
 
 PUMPKINS 173 
 
 ton, returning from his call, turned into the 
 lane from the crossroad ahead of them. 
 
 " Oh, there's the doctor now," shouted 
 Dick. " Hey, doctor, wait ! " 
 
 The doctor drove on. 
 
 " Hey 1 Wait ! " 
 
 Polly ran to the front of the cart, and scram- 
 bled up beside Margery, who had sat still 
 throughout the accident, frozen with horror. 
 " I'll get him," she cried. " He's too deaf to 
 hear us, but I'll overtake him ! " 
 
 She whirled her whip around Spy, and Spy 
 humped his back, and rocked a little in imi- 
 tation of a gallop, then settled down into hig 
 every-day, steady jog. The doctor heard the 
 approaching hoof-beats, and looked around. 
 
 " Aha ! I'll beat you again," he shouted as 
 he recognized Polly, and he whipped up his 
 horse. 
 
 11 Doctor ! Doctor ! Wait I Please wait I " 
 
 The doctor heard the shouts this time, but 
 he was too deaf to catch the words. " Don't 
 get ahead of the old man this time, you 
 don't ! " he yelled back gayly. 
 
 " He thinks we are trying to race him," 
 wailed Margery.
 
 174 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Harder came the whip on Spy's back. Spy 
 rocked again, but his rival was gaining, 
 
 " Doctor I " shrieked Polly, standing up in 
 her eagerness. " Wait ! Wait ! " 
 
 Her voice could not carry over the widen- 
 ing distance between the vehicles, and leaning 
 out for a mocking wave of his hand back at 
 them, the doctor whirled around a bend in 
 the road. " I beat you again ! " he roared, as 
 he disappeared. 
 
 Again the whip came lashing down on 
 Spy's back, but to no purpose. 
 
 " It's no use," sighed Polly, as she pulled 
 Spy in, and began to back the cart into a 
 clump of elder-bushes, in order to turn in the 
 narrow lane. " We had better go back, and 
 see if there is anything we can do." 
 
 " Oh, Polly," Margery wailed, " if only I 
 had held Jimmie all this wouldn't have hap- 
 pened. It's all my fault." 
 
 " We mustn't think about that now," 
 Polly answered quietly. " We are all to 
 blame." 
 
 " Oh, but I must think I must do some- 
 thing ! Polly I I can see the doctor going 
 along the road now, there where it has turned
 
 PUMPKINS 175 
 
 so. I can see the wheels through the bushes 
 if I cut across the fields I may catch him." 
 
 At the risk of breaking her neck, Margery 
 jumped down from the cart, and diving 
 through the elder-bushes, hurled herself over 
 the worm-fence, and started running across a 
 wide corner of the fields toward the road along 
 which the wheels of the doctor's carriage were 
 fast disappearing. The fields had been freshly 
 plowed for wheat, and the soft earth gave with 
 every step. Slipping, stumbling, falling once 
 her full length, she plunged on. Her breath 
 came in gasps, and as with every step forward 
 she seemed to fall back two, she felt as though 
 a knife were sticking into her side. But 
 crueller than the pain was the agonizing 
 thought that through her fault little Jimmie 
 lay dying, dear little Jimmie. . . . She 
 reached the other side of the field and with a 
 last effort she crawled through the fence. As 
 she scrambled to her feet a tall, tattered figure 
 rose from the tree-stump where he had been 
 sitting. With a faint scream Margery stood 
 stock-still ; he had already been pointed out 
 to her as " Loony Joe Morris," the town idiot. 
 
 " Oh, Joe," she panted, recovering her
 
 i/6 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 courage, " catch him ! " pointing to the reced- 
 ing carriage. " It's the doctor." 
 
 " Loony Joe " looked at her, his head on one 
 side. " Gimme ten pennies ? " he asked. 
 
 Margery nodded. " Yes, yes, anything." 
 
 " All right, I catches him ! " 
 
 With a shout, Joe started down the road. 
 " Whoa, there I Who-aaa ! Whoaaa ! " 
 
 However weak Joe's brain might be, his 
 legs were long and strong and there was a dif- 
 ference between his base bellow and the girls' 
 little soprano shrieks. As he gained on the 
 carriage, he bellowed lustily, and the doctor 
 stopped and looked around. 
 
 " Come back," ordered Joe, in a mighty 
 roar. " The gal wants you." 
 
 " What girl ? " 
 
 " The gal back there. She wants you bad," 
 and Joe pointed with his stubby forefinger. 
 
 Obligingly, the doctor turned around and 
 hurried back to Margery, Joe gamboling be- 
 side the carriage, cheerily shouting about his 
 " ten pennies." 
 
 " What's that you say, child ? Little 
 Jimmiie hurt? Bad business, a bad busi- 
 ness I " ejaculated the doctor, as Margery told
 
 PUMPKINS 177 
 
 her story. " Hop right in, and we will go 
 back to him as quickly as we can. What's 
 the matter with you, Joe ? What's that you're 
 making such a noise about ? Oh, your ' ten 
 pennies.' Well, here, take them." 
 
 While Margery had been pursuing the 
 doctor, Polly had gone back to Jimmie. She 
 found that the boys had carried him to a little 
 grove by the roadside, where a tiny brooklet 
 meandered, and were using such first aids as 
 considerable experience of mishaps on the 
 football field had taught them. By the time 
 that Margery and the doctor reached him, 
 Jimmie was beginning to come to. 
 
 The doctor felt him over carefully. " Not 
 a bone broken," he said, reassuringly. " But 
 he's had a bad shaking up, and been stunned. 
 I don't think, though, that there's any injury 
 to the head, in a day or two he'll probably 
 be as chipper as a bug in a rug." 
 
 As the doctor straightened up, Margery 
 slipped around to Esther and put her hand on 
 her arm. " It was a-11 my fault," she said 
 humbly. " I ought to have said that I would 
 hold Jimmie." 
 
 Esther's face was white and strained, but
 
 178 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 she managed to smile. " Why no, Margery, 
 it was my fault. For really I oughtn't to 
 have been so silly and proud. I ought to 
 have had you hold him whether you wanted 
 to or not. Yes, doctor, I'm coming." 
 
 " Here, Esther," commanded the doctor, " I 
 want you to drive to your home with me and 
 Jimmie, you'll have to hold him. He's go- 
 ing to be all right now, I hope, but I don't 
 trust you children," with a glance at the 
 crestfallen group, " not to try any more tricks. 
 
 " Oh, cheer up, child," as Esther suddenly 
 burst into tears. " You've been as brave as 
 could be, and now you want to frighten 
 your mother into fits by going home boo- 
 hooing like that. Climb in, child." 
 
 Esther gulped her tears down bravely, and 
 clambered into the carriage. Jimmie, still 
 rather white and dazed, was put in her lap, 
 and Dr. Huston tucked the lap robe around 
 them. 
 
 As he gathered up the reins, a thought 
 struck him. " Why under the sun," he de- 
 manded, " when you children saw me turn 
 into the road ahead of you, didn't you make 
 some effort to stop me ? "
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 THEY VISIT THE CITY 
 
 " DEBORAH," began Margery that evening 
 after supper, " did you ever do things that 
 you wished afterward that you hadn't done ? " 
 
 Deborah looked up from the splinter she 
 was taking out of Benjamin's finger. " Haven't 
 I ? " she laughed. 
 
 " I mean have you ever kept from doing 
 something oh, maybe just some little thing 
 for somebody, just because it was easier not 
 to do it, and then been sorry that you hadn't 
 done the something, and the somebody had 
 gotten hurt, or something ? " 
 
 Deborah caught the drift, if not the exact 
 meaning of the involved sentence. With her 
 kindly understanding she realized that Mar- 
 gery's spirit, childishly self-centered though 
 it was, was beginning to ask for light. 
 
 " Yes," she said gently, " that comes to 
 most of us, I guess. Getting old would be 
 .179
 
 i8o MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 the loveliest thing I know if it wasn't for 
 that. When you get old you have a chance 
 to see the meanings of all the things in your 
 life that have seemed so hard, and so un- 
 necessary. And you find out that, after all, 
 things have worked out for the best it's 
 real fascinating like reading in a November 
 magazine the answers to the puzzles that came 
 out in the May numbers. But just that one 
 thing spoils it ; the having to remember all 
 the mean little things, and all the selfish little 
 things you have done ! There, Benjie, that 
 splinter's out now ; go and put some witch- 
 hazel on your finger. There's a bottle of it 
 on the little table in my room. 
 
 " Yes, being old," she went on, as Benjamin 
 left the room, " would be the loveliest thing 
 if it wasn't for the memories of the mean 
 things ! I wish I could just go up and down 
 the land preaching, like some of those fellows 
 of the olden times, to all the young people, 
 that selfishness doesn't pay one little bit, and 
 that when they get old they will have to find 
 it out." 
 
 Margery made no answer, and rising, Deb- 
 orah brought a great basket of stockings to be
 
 THET VISIT THE CITY 181 
 
 mended, and settled down again in the glow 
 of the lamp to finish her weekly darning. 
 
 " Dear me, this stocking looks as though 
 Benjamin had been playing with a wildcat. 
 Margery, you are so sleepy that you can 
 scarcely hold your eyes open. Are all your 
 lessons done? Well, then, you had better go 
 to bed right off. Be sure to gargle your throat 
 well with the salt and water, I don't like 
 the way your cold is hanging on." 
 
 Almost too sleepy to make the effort, 
 Margery dragged herself out of the chair, and 
 lighted her little bedroom lamp, which stood 
 with those of the others on a table in the 
 corner. With a gigantic yawn she opened 
 the door, and turned to remind Deborah that 
 she was to have hot chocolate for breakfast. 
 As she spoke to her, something in the patient 
 weariness of the little housekeeper's attitude 
 as she sat toiling over the big pile of stockings 
 touched her. Unobservant as Margery habit- 
 ually was, she had not been able to escape 
 seeing how faithfully Deborah, but ill-assisted 
 by the farmer's daughter and old Thomas, 
 and burdened by the inconveniences of the 
 big, badly contrived old house, worked, from
 
 182 M4RGERT MORRIS 
 
 early morning until late at night, to make 
 the little family comfortable. 
 
 Margery stood stock-still in the doorway, 
 thinking ; thanks to her mother's insistence, 
 she knew how to mend very neatly, should 
 she propose to assist Deborah with the darning 
 on the morrow ? She opened her lips to 
 speak ; still, the sacrifice seemed unnecessary, 
 and she might want to spend to-morrow after- 
 noon with Polly ; besides, she concluded, darn- 
 ing was the work that Deborah was paid to do. 
 She went out, closing the door behind her. 
 
 At the foot of the stairs she paused again. 
 " I suppose," she thought with a wry little 
 smile, " that Deborah really does lots of things 
 for us that she isn't paid to do, things she 
 does just because she is so good-natured. I 
 suppose, too, Polly would call my my 
 having other plans than darning a case of 
 Agag on the rampage." 
 
 She decided to compromise, as, alas, we so 
 often do. Going back, she opened the library 
 door and stuck her head into the room. 
 " Deborah," she said kindly, "you look very 
 tired if I were you I'd go to bed early, and 
 get a good night's rest."
 
 THEY V '1 SIT THE CITY 183 
 
 There was destined to be but little sleep for 
 Deborah that night. Scarcely, it seemed to 
 her, had her head touched the pillow, before 
 she was awakened by somebody shaking her. 
 
 " Oh, no," she muttered, clutching the 
 bedclothes tighter under her chin, " it is not 
 morning yet." 
 
 " No, no," whimpered a little white figure 
 beside the bed ; " wake up 1 Do please wake 
 up ! " 
 
 " Gracious ! What is the matter ? I always 
 knew that Dick, the way he reads in bed, 
 
 would set something on fire " Awake 
 
 now, Deborah jumped out of bed, and began 
 to fumble for matches. 
 
 " No, it's my tooth," sobbed Margery. " It's 
 aching so." 
 
 " Dear me, child, why didn't you say so at 
 first ? My sakes," she continued, as she 
 lighted the lamp, " what are you doing stand- 
 ing there in your bare feet? Get right back 
 into your bed. I'll get you something that 
 will stop your toothache in a jiffy." 
 
 A quaint little figure Deborah looked in 
 an old-fashioned nightgown that made up for 
 what it lacked in length and width by an
 
 1 84 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 extraordinary amount of goffered ruffling 
 about the neck and wrists. But to Margery, 
 although we suppose that angels do not 
 usually have little gray pigtails tied with a 
 shoe-string, she seemed an angel of comfort as 
 she deftly tucked her up in bed and brought 
 what remedies the house afforded. 
 
 But the hot iron wrapped in newspaper, 
 and clapped^ to her feet; the bag of hot salt 
 applied to her cheek ; the wedge of cotton 
 soaked in oil of cloves and plugged into the 
 aching tooth ; the hot drink to send her into 
 a perspiration ; even the final remedy recom- 
 mended by the almanac, a mustard plaster on 
 her left elbow, all failed. 
 
 " There's nothing for it but the dentist," 
 sighed Deborah as at last the dawn, not 
 " rosy -fingered," as the poets have it, but 
 pale green, leered through the windows at 
 Margery's swollen jaw. 
 
 Worn out by the pain and lack of sleep, it 
 was a very woebegone little figure that Polly 
 Jameson, as she opened her shutters the next 
 morning, spied sitting on the horse-block in 
 front of the house of her neighbor, the den- 
 tist.
 
 THEY VISIT THE CITY 185 
 
 " Why, Margery Morris whatever is the 
 matter ? " 
 
 " Oh, Polly," came a muffled wail, " I'm 
 nearly dead. I didn't sleep a wink last night, 
 except, of course, sometimes. And now the 
 dentist says that I've got to go up to the city 
 and have the old tooth out by gas. My cold 
 has settled in my tooth it's been feeling 
 rather hurty and now there's an abscess 
 forming at the root of it," she explained 
 wearily, as she rose and stood waiting for the 
 carriage, which Dick was just driving up to 
 the curbstone^ 
 
 " Gracious, you poor darling," Polly sympa- 
 thetically commented, in her interest leaning 
 out of the window at a perilous angle. " What 
 train do you take ? " she added as Margery 
 clambered into the carriage. 
 
 " Nine-forty," called back Dick. 
 
 " Is Deborah going, too ? " 
 
 " No, she's going to house-clean to-day, 
 got the women all engaged to come and help. 
 Besides, Deborah isn't any good about finding 
 
 her way around the city ; she " The rest 
 
 of Dick's remark was lost as the carriage turned 
 the corner.
 
 1 86 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 Just as the nine-forty pulled out of the 
 station there was a commotion at the back 
 of the car in which Margery and Dick were 
 sitting, and Sam and Polly, breathless and 
 laughing, plumped down into the seat ahead 
 \. of them. 
 
 " Well we got here," panted Polly, fan- 
 ning her crimson face with a lace collar. 
 " When I got around to the school it 
 was closed to be fumigated the Perkins kid 
 has diphtheria and he was in school yester- 
 day. So I just tore home, and begged and 
 begged Mother to let me come I met Sam on 
 the way home, and he said he'd come, too, 
 at first she wouldn't let me but here I 
 be ! Gracious ! Look at the lace collar I've 
 brought for a handkerchief! Phew!" and 
 with a final gasp Polly adjusted her hat to a 
 less perilous angle and leaned back. 
 
 Margery smiled wanly in an attempt to 
 show her appreciation of her friend's arrival 
 and Polly, reawakening to the tragedy of an 
 aching tooth, insisted on changing places with 
 Dick and tenderly offered her somewhat sharp 
 shoulder for Margery to lean her head upon. 
 Exhausted by her sleepless night, Margery
 
 THEY VISIT THE CITY 187 
 
 slept by fits and starts, while Polly heroically 
 sat motionless and silent ; neither disturbing 
 the head, which grew to feel so heavy, lean- 
 ing against her shoulder, nor yielding to the 
 temptation of joining in the conversation of 
 the boys behind her. Not until they had 
 nearly reached the railway terminus did 
 Margery rouse herself, and turning to Polly 
 ask : 
 
 " Were you coming up to the city anyway, 
 Polly, or just because of me ? " 
 
 "Just because of you, m'love." 
 
 Margery was thoughtfully silent. She won- 
 dered, had the case been reversed, if she would 
 have even thought of going with Polly, much 
 less doing it. " It is dear of you," she said at 
 last, with conviction. 
 
 " Why, of course," Polly answered, as 
 though there could be no two ways about 
 it, " I oughtn't to have let you come alone 
 with just Dick, boys don't count, anyway. 
 It would have been awfully dreary for you. 
 Besides, you might feel nervous, or ill from 
 taking the gas, mightn't she, Sam?" she 
 added as they rose to leave the car. 
 
 Sam considered the question. " Yes," he
 
 1 88 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 said thoughtfully; "plenty of people have 
 died under gas, I guess." 
 
 A reflection which Margery found scarcely 
 cheering. 
 
 When they reached the dentist's office, Sam 
 and Dick left the girls and went off to tele- 
 phone to Billy Ball, Dick's cousin on the Ball 
 side, who was at college in the outskirts of the 
 city, and Polly accompanied Margery into the 
 little room where the dentist stood beside his 
 gas machine. Margery had had a tooth out 
 by gas before so, while her knees wobbled 
 somewhat unmanageably under her, she was 
 able to crawl into the dental chair with a 
 passable imitation of courage. 
 
 " Now, think of something pleasant," com- 
 manded Dr. Marshall, the big, jolly-looking 
 dentist, as he put the cork in her mouth. 
 "And now, take a deep breath, slowly, 
 slowly, so " 
 
 " Sp flu my," spluttered Margery, a min- 
 ute later. " Why don't you begin ? " 
 
 "It's out," laughed Dr. Marshall. "But 
 just look at your friend," and he nodded 
 toward Polly, who, with her face as white as 
 her blouse, her hat falling off the back of her
 
 THEY VISIT THE C1TT 189 
 
 head, her eyes screwed tight shut, and her 
 mouth open with sympathetic howor, sat 
 waiting, hands over her ears, for the ordeal 
 to be over. 
 
 " I'll have to get you to take care of me, 
 Miss Jameson," said Dr. Marshall, still laugh- 
 ing, as he let down the big chair and helped 
 Margery out of it, " when I have to have a 
 tooth out. Now, Miss Morris, you had better 
 rest for a while in the other room, there, and 
 when you go out, keep those veils of yours 
 on. There's a raw wind blowing to-day, and 
 you don't want to take cold in your face just 
 now. Good-morning. " 
 
 At noon the boys came back for the two 
 girls, bringing Billy Ball with them. He was 
 a larger and older edition of Dick, with the 
 same mass of straight light hair, handsome 
 blue eyes, and regular features. He greeted 
 Margery kindly from the superior heights of 
 college sophomoredom, inquiring how she left 
 " the savages out West? " 
 
 " Quite as well as she has found them 
 in the East, I imagine," Polly answered for 
 her, and they all laughed. 
 
 Not a bit abashed, Billy pretended to be
 
 1 90 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 immensely impressed by Margery's veils, and 
 insisted on addressing her as " Honored 
 Madam," and " Reverend Lady " all the way 
 down the street to the department store, 
 where, after some discussion, they had decided 
 to take luncheon. As they entered the store 
 Billy gravely led the wondering group to the 
 veil counter. 
 
 " I wish a veil," he announced pompously 
 to the salesgirl. 
 
 " Yes, sir what kind ? " 
 
 " Not one for myself, I seldom wear a 
 veil." 
 
 "Beg pardon?" 
 
 " I said I do not wish a veil for myself. I 
 want one for my grandmother." 
 
 "Mesh or chiffon?" 
 
 " Eer chiffon." 
 
 " Black, I suppose ? Here is a very good 
 quality." 
 
 " Eer no not black. One red, and one 
 green. My grandfather er grandmother, I 
 mean, usually er wears two veils at once." 
 
 " Beg pardon ? " 
 
 " My grandmother usually wears two veils 
 at once," repeated Billy politely. " Grand-
 
 THEY VISIT THE CITY 191 
 
 mother," turning to the gasping Margery, 
 " you would prefer red and green, would you 
 not ? " 
 
 "Grandmother?" exclaimed the salesgirl, 
 with an involuntary glance at Margery's ab- 
 breviated skirts. 
 
 Billy lowered his voice confidentially, and 
 with a nod toward Margery, tapped his fore- 
 head suggestively. " Grandmother, er has 
 a little trouble er er she has a little weak- 
 ness of the intellect. As she insists on wear- 
 ing short skirts, we er let her do it, but we 
 hide her ancient face with veils." 
 
 " Ch-ch-sss," snickered Polly, hiding her 
 face on Margery's shoulder. 
 
 " My great-aunt," explained Billy, indicat- 
 ing Polly, " is very sensitive on the subject of 
 my grandmother's affliction, and er can 
 seldom hear it mentioned without tears. You 
 will excuse my saying anything more, under 
 the circumstances, I am sure," and with a 
 stately bow, Billy led his hysterical flock 
 toward the elevator, while the giggling sales- 
 girl murmured something about " somebody 
 else having a little weakness of the intellect." 
 
 After luncheon the problem of what to do
 
 i 9 2 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 next arose. There was only an hour and a 
 half before train time ; too little time to go to a 
 matinee, and too long to spend waiting in the 
 station. The boys wanted to go to a ma- 
 chinery show in progress in the city, but Polly 
 was firm on that score. 
 
 " No, indeed," she declared, " not much ! 
 I've enough wheels in my head now, without 
 going and looking at any more. Let's go and 
 see the fashion parade on the dressmaking 
 floor. They have a bride and bridesmaids all 
 dressed up, and Sarah Morton says they are 
 perfectly sweet, she saw them day before 
 yesterday." 
 
 " Save us ! " protested Dick and Billy in 
 chorus, while Sam explained that he didn't 
 have to see any fashion show, as his sisters 
 had already decided that his new gown was to 
 be made of " egg-plant purple bombazine, 
 trimmed with bias peplums and plackets, cut 
 a la leg-o'-mutton." 
 
 " There's Independence Hall," put in the 
 waitress, who had been highly entertained at 
 their jokes and nonsense. " If you are 
 strangers in the city, why don't you go there ? 
 Most folks do."
 
 THET V IS IT THE CITY 193 
 
 " I'm afraid we've all seen it," Dick ex- 
 plained. 
 
 " Grandmother hasn't," Sam reminded him. 
 
 Margery was tired and growing rather cross. 
 " Grandmother doesn't want to see it," she ob- 
 jected. " It's nothing but an old red-brick 
 building anyway. I've seen lots of pictures 
 of it." 
 
 Polly answered her soothingly, as she would 
 a querulous child. " Oh, yes, Margery, you 
 will enjoy it ever so much when you get 
 there. If you don't we'll think you don't 
 deserve to have it to look at, and that you 
 just ought to look at a king, like a cat." 
 
 Sam laughed, and Polly repeated her last 
 sentence with a teasing smile. 
 
 Margery stood up and stared at Polly icily. 
 " I think that you are very provincial," she 
 said haughtily. 
 
 Far from being crushed, Polly crossed her 
 eyes and wiggled her ears, an unladylike ac- 
 complishment of which she was proud. 
 
 " Come on, you children," exclaimed Billy, 
 hastily tipping the waitress, and herding his 
 obstreperous charges together for the descent 
 to the street. " Cut it out, girls."
 
 I 9 4 M4RGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Yeth, girlth, do," lisped Sam, hiding his 
 face in affected horror. In the midst of his 
 horror he collided with a fat man, who glared 
 at him with genuine indignation. 
 
 " Now then, behave yourselves, everybody," 
 commanded Billy, as they reached the ele- 
 vator. ''What shall it be, Margery? Ma- 
 chinery, fashion, or history ? We bow to your 
 wishes." 
 
 Margery hated being laughed at, and she 
 was thoroughly irritated at Polly's teasing 
 manner, but pride came to her rescue, and 
 she said sweetly, " Thank you, Billy, I think 
 I'll take history." 
 
 Polly slipped her arm through Margery's. 
 " I was mean to tease you," she whispered, 
 repentantly. " But really, Margery, you're 
 such a nice little canary bird when you get 
 mad and ruffle your feathers."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 THE DEAF-MUTES 
 
 IN spite of her weariness, and her antici- 
 pated disdain of the " old red-brick building," 
 Margery became enthusiastic over its serene 
 and mellow beauty. After the busy crowded 
 street, with its throng of gay, well-dressed 
 shoppers and hurrying business men, the cries 
 of the flower-venders along the curbs, the 
 noise of automobile-horns and clanging trol- 
 ley-gongs, entering the quiet, old building, 
 with its air of settled, dignified sadness, 
 seemed to her like stepping back into another 
 and long-ago time. The rear door of the echo- 
 ing, brick-paved entrance hall was standing 
 open ; through it she could see the square 
 with its big old trees, the dried leaves of 
 which were being whirled along the paths 
 and hurried into quiet corners by the au- 
 tumnal wind. 
 
 " Polly," she said softly, looking about her, 
 "it is beautiful, isn't it?" 
 
 195
 
 196 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " Isn't it? " agreed Polly. " I should think 
 that it would seem particularly thrilling to 
 you after you've come all the way across the 
 continent. To see this after you've seen how 
 huge, and and well, how wonderful the 
 country is, must seem like seeing the acorn 
 after you have seen the gigantic oak that 
 grew from it." 
 
 Arm in arm, they strolled into the signers' 
 room. Before the historic desk there stood a 
 thin, little work-worn woman whose accent 
 announced her to be from some of the south- 
 ern mountains. 
 
 " To think of we-all's seein' it," she was 
 saying in a hushed voice to the daughter on 
 whose arm she leaned. " To think of seein' 
 the table on which it was writ." 
 
 The two girls smiled at her sympathetically, 
 and she went on, turning to them. " It does 
 you good, don't it, to see the pictures of all 
 them men up there," waving her hand toward 
 the portraits of the signers. " Makes you feel 
 right down patriotic, an' like you wanted to 
 do something to be worth your salt. I guess 
 it would do a lot of good to plenty of the in- 
 habitants of this here country if they'd come
 
 THE DEAF-MVTES 197 
 
 and gaze at them pictures for a spell. They 
 was men, the livin' models of those pictures 
 was, that wasn't afraid to risk their lives for 
 their country. In these days, I do declare, 
 people are perfectly willin' to risk their 
 country's salvation for their ease an' profit." 
 
 " Yes," said Polly ; " one of those old sign- 
 ers, I think it was Franklin, said, ' We'll all 
 have to hang together, or else we'll hang 
 separately.' ' 
 
 The old woman was delighted. " Well, 
 aren't you bright ! " she said admiringly. 
 " To think of your knowing that. How's 
 that it goes, ' We'll all have to hang to- 
 gether'?" 
 
 " Come on, you girls," interrupted Dipk ; 
 " how long are you going to stand mooning 
 here, looking at that old desk? We've been 
 waiting for you out in the hall for an age." 
 
 " Come on up-stairs, Margery," said Polly. 
 " I'll show you the portrait there of the most 
 adorable young Frenchman, who came over 
 and helped fight in the Revolution. See if 
 you aren't crazy about him." 
 
 They climbed the stairway and entered the 
 room where hung the portrait of Polly's
 
 198 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 "adorable" Frenchman. Margery admired 
 him properly, and even Sam and Dick were 
 prevailed upon to say that he was not " so 
 bad for a Frenchie " before they wandered off 
 in search of more congenial diversion than 
 gazing at the portraits of long-dead generals 
 and statesmen. 
 
 " Run away, Margie, and amuse yourself," 
 smiled Polly. " I like to stand here and 
 imagine things about my Frenchman, just 
 think, he so young, and I know he was brave. 
 Some day I want to put him in a story ; 
 wouldn't that be fun? Billy's in the ball- 
 room, I think," and she turned back to the 
 pictured face whose boyishness and charm 
 had so captured her imagination. 
 
 Margery found Billy standing, hands be- 
 hind his back, and head bent in deep contem- 
 plation, at the doorway of the long banquet- 
 hall. " Hello, Margery," he said absently ; 
 " where are the others? I was just thinking 
 of all the things this old room has seen. All 
 the belles and beaux that used to dance here 
 in the Colonial days, and the anxious meet- 
 ings that were held here when the Revolu- 
 tion first began.".
 
 THE DEAF-MUTES 199 
 
 " And the wounded that lay here," put in 
 Margery, who had been reading a sign before 
 one of the fireplaces. " This sign says that 
 the wounded were brought in here after the 
 Battle of Germantown." 
 
 "There wasn't room for the American 
 wounded anywhere in Germantown, there 
 were so many Redcoats to be looked after 
 there. But the Continentals had a grewsome 
 kind of consolation for their long, jolting ride. 
 The doctor at work in here was a more skilful 
 one than the old saw-bones operating out in 
 Germantown, and he was able to cut off their 
 legs and arms in half the time that it took 
 the enemy to lose theirs. That meant a lot, 
 I guess, in those old days before anaesthetics 
 were discovered," and Billy, who had recently 
 made a round of the city hospitals with a 
 medical friend, shuddered at the thought. 
 
 In the meantime, while Billy and the girls 
 were dreaming of the past, Dick and Sam, 
 whose bumps of reverence were small, and to 
 whom Independence Hall was an old story, 
 were looking about for some mischief with 
 which to while away the time. The quest 
 was discouraging.
 
 200 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 At length a group about the Liberty Bell, 
 where a pompous little man was explaining 
 all about the relic to his open-mouthed fam- 
 ily, suggested a means. Worming their way 
 close to the glass case surrounding the bell 
 the boys commenced to gesticulate violently in 
 what they pretended to be the deaf and dumb 
 language. At first no one paid any atten- 
 tion to them and their efforts, and they were 
 about to slink discreetly out of sight, when 
 the daughter of the pompous little man es- 
 pied them. 
 
 " Oh, Ma ! " she exclaimed in a shrill 
 whisper. " Just look at them two ! They're 
 talking with their fingers." 
 ""*" Ain't it a pity ? " answered Ma. " Two 
 such likely-looking young fellers, too 1 Your 
 Aunt Mame's first husband's nephew was a 
 deef-mute, she was light complected, too." 
 
 " Mother I " demanded the self-appointed 
 interpreter of the Liberty Bell, " are you and 
 Edith goin' to listen to what I am tellin' 
 you, you won't get somebody every day 
 who'll be able to tell you as much as I do, 
 or are you goin' to spend your time gawkin' 
 at them mutes?"
 
 THE DEAF-MUTES 201 
 
 After that the boys shared honors with the 
 Liberty Bell. A bride and groom stopped 
 thinking about themselves and each other 
 long enough to gaze at them with pitying 
 eyes. " Poor things," sighed the bride, " isn't 
 it too bad ? They are so good-looking, too." 
 
 Flattered at the comments, and inwardly 
 convulsed, Sam and Dick continued to gestic- 
 ulate, their faces monuments of solemnity 
 and impassiveness. Billy and the girls, com- 
 ing down the stairway, were astonished to see 
 them in the hall below, apparently undergo- 
 ing a species of fit to the evident interest of 
 the group around them. 
 
 "What's the matter with them?" asked 
 Polly anxiously. 
 
 "Don't know," answered Billy. "Oh, 
 great Scott I I see, they're pretending to be 
 deaf and dumb. Come on ; we won't have 
 time to stop and watch them. We've got to 
 hurry," he added in a louder tone, for the 
 benefit of the boys. 
 
 They took the hint, and trailed after Billy 
 and the girls, at a discreet distance, as they 
 left the building. 
 
 The trip across the river in the slow-mov-
 
 202 
 
 ing, clumsy ferry-boat was enlivened by more 
 deaf and dumb language. Fearful lest 
 Polly's unrestrained giggles should give them 
 away, the boys sat apart from the rest of the 
 party, reveling in the comments of the sym- 
 pathetic passengers. 
 
 " Quit your fooling, now, you fellows," or- 
 dered Billy as he said good-bye at the train 
 steps. " You've worked the joke long 
 enough. Take care of the girls, and don't let 
 our wild Western friend frighten the natives." 
 
 But the boys found the joke too good to 
 give up, and after having, with much sign 
 language, deposited the girls in a seat, they 
 retired to the end of the car, where they could 
 sit facing the other passengers. 
 
 " I wish they'd stop," sighed Margery. 
 " Their carryings on seemed funny at first, 
 but I'm tired of it now. A joke that's dead is 
 so awfully dead ! " 
 
 Polly agreed with her, but laughed in spite 
 of herself when a tired-looking woman with a 
 whiney little boy hailed the boys' advent with 
 joy, and urged her small son to " sit up like a 
 little gentleman, now, and watch thedummies." 
 
 " Oh, look, Polly," said Margery, who sat
 
 THE DEAF-MUTES 203 
 
 next to the window, " see those pretty girls 
 out there on the platform ! Hasn't that taller 
 one got a stunning hat ? " 
 
 Polly leaned across Margery, and peered out 
 of the window. " My child," she said sol- 
 emnly, " I shan't die happy until I have a 
 bonnet equally beautiful. Oh, they're com- 
 ing in here. They had better hurry ; the 
 train's beginning to move now." 
 
 The two pretty, modishly attired young girls 
 whose appearance they had been admiring 
 entered the car, followed by a tall negro in a 
 chauffeur's livery, who put down their hand- 
 some traveling bags in the aisle beside them, 
 and hurriedly left the starting train. How- 
 ever much they might condescend to the girls 
 of their own age, Dick and Sam were begin- 
 ning to take a great interest in girls a year or 
 two older than themselves, and they were im- 
 mensely impressed by the evident fashion and 
 wealth of the young ladies. With admiration 
 they gazed at them, and it was not until the 
 prettier of the two girls threw a casual glance 
 in their direction that they remembered their 
 reason for selecting such a conspicuous place 
 in the car. They looked at each other ques-
 
 204 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 tioningly ; it was one thing to act before the 
 " rubes," as they dubbed the other passengers, 
 quite another to perform before these dainty 
 creatures. But catching Polly's eye, which 
 winked derisively at them, they took up the 
 farce with renewed vigor. 
 
 The train rattled along over switches and 
 crossings, and the passengers settled down to 
 their evening newspapers, or idly to watching 
 the uninteresting landscape from the car win- 
 dows ; suddenly a sweet, high voice rang out 
 above the rumbling of the train. 
 
 " Oh, my dear," it said ; " look at those 
 deaf-mutes. Poor things." 
 
 " Yes," answered another voice, sweeter and 
 higher, " poor things." 
 
 Sam and Dick perceived that the speakers 
 were the two pretty girls, and gesticulated 
 violently. 
 
 " Isn't it dreadful, Helen ? How I do pity 
 them I " went on the first speaker, while the 
 boys fairly outdid themselves. " It's bad 
 enough to be so terribly afflicted, and then 
 to look so frightful ! " 
 
 The boys stopped gesticulating in astonish- 
 ment.
 
 THE DEAF-MUTES 205 
 
 "Isn't it dreadful?" agreed Helen. "I 
 don't think such people ought to be allowed 
 to go around, do you ? " 
 
 " Mercy no I It gives me the creeps, why, 
 just look at the nose of the bigger one ! " 
 
 Dick, who, in spite of his carelessness, was 
 proud of his blond good looks, turned red. 
 Involuntarily, he started to feel of his nose, 
 then remembering that he was supposed to be 
 deaf, and therefore unconscious of the conver- 
 sation, plunged his hands into his pockets. 
 
 " But really, my dear," went on Helen, 
 " ghastly looking as he is, he doesn't seem to 
 me to be quite as bad as the other one, he has 
 such a deceitful face ! There is an awfully 
 crafty look about his eyes, they say those 
 very round blue eyes usually do belong to de- 
 ceitful, unscrupulous people. You can just 
 imagine that boy deceiving people, and enjoy- 
 ing it ! I should be afraid of him, even 
 worse than of the other. Isn't it dreadful that 
 they should look so, when they are so afflicted 
 already ? " 
 
 Her clear, carrying voice rang out through 
 the car, and during her speech there had been 
 a general craning of necks to look at the af-
 
 206 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 flicted ones. The afflicted ones turned scarlet, 
 and shuffled their feet, and cleared their 
 throats in a desperate attempt to regain their 
 composure. Sam, his cherubic countenance 
 the color of a ripe tomato, glanced furtively 
 at Polly and Margery to see if they had heard. 
 They had. With their arms clasped around 
 each other they were shaking with convulsive 
 joy. That was too much for poor Sam ; jump- 
 ing to his feet he made for the smoking car. 
 Finding himself about to be deserted, Dick 
 looked sheepishly about him, then plunged 
 after his fellow conspirator, the beads fairly 
 standing out on his crimson forehead. But 
 Dick was of the stuff that dies gamely. As he 
 passed his two pretty critics, he held his head 
 high, and with the utmost dignity carried on 
 a finger conversation, quite oblivious to the 
 fact that his fellow mute had his back to him, 
 and could not see it. Polly and Margery he 
 discreetly avoided looking at at all. 
 
 As the door banged after the boys, the 
 prettier of the two strangers moved back to 
 the seat in front of Polly and Margery. " You 
 are Margaret Morris, aren't you ? " she began. 
 " Dick Ball's cousin, Billy Ball, told me to
 
 THE DEAF-MUTES 207 
 
 speak to you. He said I'd know you by the 
 veils. I do hope that we didn't hurt the feel- 
 ings of those poor boys. But," she added with 
 a laugh, " Billy put us up to it." 
 
 " Oh, goody," giggled Polly, " we might 
 have guessed." 
 
 " Yes, my brother, Harry White, is Billy's 
 roommate at college, so of course I know him 
 pretty well, and so does my cousin, the girl 
 with me. We met Billy outside of the station, 
 and he stopped us we pretty nearly missed 
 the train, too to tell us those boys were try- 
 ing to make fun of the country people in the 
 car, and he dared us to get back at them. 
 We did, didn't we? But I do hope," she 
 finished, wiping the tears of mirth from her 
 eyes, " that we didn't hurt their feelings. If 
 we didn't have to get off at the next station 
 I'd like to apologize to them." 
 
 Margery and Polly assured her as well as 
 they could for the peals of laughter which 
 overcame them that they knew it had been 
 an episode of great and lasting benefit to the 
 boys.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 " I'M SORRY, DICK " 
 
 DEBORAH was immensely entertained at 
 Margery's account of the day in the city, and 
 of the trip home, especially. " Dear me, who 
 would have thought that a toothache would 
 have brought you so much fun ? " she com- 
 mented. " That's usually the way with 
 pleasure or happiness, though, you find 
 them in all sorts of unexpected places. And 
 you don't find them where you think you're 
 going to. You make all your plans, and have 
 an appointment to meet happiness at some 
 particular spot, and when you get there, it 
 isn't there ! The same way with pleasure. 
 And then, some time when you're all dis- 
 couraged, and have given up hope of ever see- 
 ing happiness again, you go up some dreary 
 little alley to take a bowl of soup to some poor 
 woman, or you just turn a corner in your 
 every-day walk of life, and there is happiness 
 
 208
 
 /'Af SORRT, DICK' 209 
 
 waiting for you I And it will take you in its 
 arms and give you a regular bear-hug. 
 
 " Now, how did you say Dick looked when 
 the girls began to talk about his nose? I 
 guess it didn't hurt him any. Dick's pretty 
 proud of that nose ! To tell the truth, he's 
 real proud of his looks altogether, and he's 
 getting to be awfully dressy at times. Then 
 again, he'll go around with his collar looking 
 like a Civil War relic, or his hair sticking up 
 like a wheat-field in a wind-storm. I don't 
 say anything to him about it, though ; Ben- 
 jamin's hands are about all I'm equal to 
 tackling." 
 
 If Margery had shared her enjoyment of the 
 deaf and dumb episode with Deborah and 
 Polly, and let it rest there, everything would 
 have passed off happily ; unfortunately, she 
 insisted on pointing out to Dick how excruci- 
 atingly funny it had been. A point which 
 Dick preferred to overlook. The more he 
 tried to overlook it, the more dignified he 
 grew. The more dignified he became, the 
 more fun Margery found in teasing him. Be- 
 sides, Margery had not forgotten the day 
 when she attempted to ride Tempo Wick, and
 
 210 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 how absurd her appearance must have been as 
 she clung to the saddle with one foot pointing 
 toward heaven ; or how Dick had seen her 
 slighted by the girls at school, and it was 
 sweet to her self-love to have him at an equal 
 disadvantage. Had anybody, however, sug- 
 gested to her that such was her state of mind, 
 she would have been properly indignant. 
 
 In vain Deborah hinted that the masculine 
 animal hates ridicule worse than a cat hates 
 water ; in vain Dick gave her a stare of polite 
 inquiry whenever she moved her fingers in 
 ostentatious dumb-show ; in vain he requested 
 her, with lofty dignity, to " stop chortling " : 
 Margery persisted in rubbing in the joke, un- 
 til by the afternoon of the next day she and 
 Dick were not " speaking beyond a bow," as 
 the old woman said of her neighbor. 
 
 Deborah tried to smooth things over with- 
 out avail, and there was general relief when 
 Polly arrived to ask Margery to drive with 
 her. 
 
 " We'll go to the Crowells'," Polly explained 
 as they turned into the highway, " and ask 
 after little Jimmie, and then Mother wants 
 me to take these two bundles of clothes to
 
 "I'M SORRT, DICK' 211 
 
 some poor people over on the Pike. We'll 
 just leave them at the doors, and not go in. 
 And then, oh, yes, I mustn't forget that ! 
 we'll go over to old Mr. Morris's and leave 
 this bottle of elderberry wine there. Mother 
 always sends some to sick people, and Mr. 
 Morris has been very ill. He's the dearest old 
 gentleman, Margery, I wish that you knew 
 him. Old people are awfully nice, when 
 they are nice, aren't they ? " 
 
 " Polly," was Margery's abrupt answer, 
 " what's my grandfather like ? Is he nice ? " 
 
 Polly stammered in astonishment. " Why 
 w-why d-don't you know ? " 
 
 " No, not really, you see, I haven't seen 
 him since I was eight. He was awfully sweet 
 to me then, and he always sends me lovely 
 things for Christmas and birthdays." 
 
 " Don't you get letters from him ? letters 
 always tell you a lot." 
 
 " Oh, no, I don't think you learn much 
 from letters. Besides," she added rather 
 shamefacedly, " I've had too many things on 
 hand lately, dancing class, and, oh, ever so 
 many things, to do much letter writing." 
 
 Polly looked thoughtfully at a crimson
 
 212 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 sumach bush. " Well," she felt her way 
 cautiously, " I imagine that your grandfather 
 would treat you differently from the way he 
 does the boys. He sends you lovely things, 
 you say, for Christmases and birthdays, he 
 doesn't put himself out much over Dick's 
 birthdays ! He's awfully strict with Dick. 
 Perhaps he'll be different with a girl. But 
 Dick simply doesn't dare to spend a cent, or 
 to do a thing, without asking his grandfather's 
 permission first. Father thinks that Dick 
 has the making of a very fine, manly fellow, 
 and that it's a pity that Mr. Morris doesn't 
 let him have more liberty, and give him more 
 chance to develop." 
 
 " A letter came for Dick just before you 
 came to-day," Margery remarked pensively. 
 " It was from Grandpapa, I know. I was 
 dying to know what it was about. Dick has 
 been fussing terribly because he hasn't had 
 any letters from Grandpapa. The first thing 
 that boy did when we got home last night was 
 to ask Deborah if any letters had come for 
 him. She said there hadn't, but that surely 
 one would come to-day, and that probably 
 Grandpapa had been traveling so quickly
 
 /'M SORRT, DICK' 213 
 
 from place to place that Dick's letter had 
 been some time in catching up with him. 
 And then I heard her say something about 
 wishing that Dick had told her before about 
 something, I didn't hear what but as he 
 had let things go so without saying anything, 
 he'd better keep on waiting to hear from 
 Grandpapa, and then he'd know definitely." 
 
 Polly was interested. " That does sound 
 mysterious. But it probably means that 
 Dick wants a new suit of clothes, and doesn't 
 dare to order them until he hears definitely 
 from his grandfather." 
 
 " Maybe. Dick and I aren't speaking. Of 
 course, I couldn't ask a rude boy like that ques- 
 tions until he apologizes. Anyway, I wasn't 
 supposed to have heard what they were saying." 
 
 " Perhaps you can help Dick with his 
 grandfather," Polly suggested. " Mr. Morris 
 might be influenced by what you say. I feel 
 rather sorry for Dick sometimes." 
 
 Margery looked at her new friend with 
 comic despair. " Do you know, Polly, you 
 are always thinking about helping somebody. 
 I believe that you are awfully good, almost 
 as good as Mamma."
 
 214 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 11 What a dreadful thing to say about any- 
 body," laughed Polly. " But really we all 
 have to help a little as we go through life. 
 That sounds preachy, I know," and Polly 
 blushed uncomfortably, and struck at a way- 
 side weed with her whip, " but it's true, never- 
 theless. Once, when I was having an awfully 
 hard time, I had a boil on the end of my 
 nose, and I looked so funny that nobody 
 sympathized a bit, except Father and Mother, 
 and even they laughed sometimes but really 
 it hurt a lot, and I had to stay cooped in the 
 house, and missed going to the city with Fa- 
 ther to see Peter Pan, Dr. Huston gave me a 
 motto, all framed. It helped me just lots and 
 lots, then, and it has ever since. It was just 
 four lines, written by a man in Australia, 
 named Adam Lindsay Gordon : 
 
 " ' Life is mostly froth and bubble, 
 Two things stand like stone : 
 Kindness in your neighbor's trouble, 
 Courage in your own.' 
 
 Dr. Huston gives lots of copies of those lines 
 to his patients. He'll probably give one to 
 you, if you can manage to scare up an ache, 
 or a boil on the end of your nose," she added
 
 /'M SORRT, DICK' 215 
 
 with a laugh. " Oh, there's Jimmie, so I 
 guess he's all right. Bless his heart I Isn't 
 he a darling? Don't you love children when 
 they get all dirty and rumpled ? " 
 
 Jimmie paused long enough in the con- 
 genial task of digging a hole, " stwaight frew 
 ter China," to throw them several muddy 
 kisses, and Mrs. Crowell came hurrying out 
 of the house at the sound of the carriage 
 wheels. " I'm so sorry, girls, that Esther is 
 out. She has gone to town," she explained. 
 " Yes, Polly dear, Jimmie is all right again ; 
 just as well as he ever was. And this is the 
 girl," and Mrs. Crowell put her hand gently 
 on Margery's, " who was so plucky about get- 
 ting the doctor for him ? I am very grateful 
 to you, my dear, for being so good to my 
 little boy." 
 
 Margery blushed, and murmured some- 
 thing inarticulate. She hoped that sweet, 
 gentle Mrs. Crowell did not know how Jim- 
 mie happened to be acting as extra tail-board. 
 
 " Wasn't it funny," Polly put in, " the way 
 that Dr. Huston thought we were trying to 
 run a race with him ? I didn't think that it 
 was a bit funny at the time, but I have
 
 2i 6 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 laughed a lot over it since then. No, thank 
 you, Mrs. Crowell, we can't stay. We only 
 stopped in to inquire after Jimmie. We are 
 going over, now, to take some of Mother's 
 famous elderberry wine to old Mr. Morris, 
 you know he has been very ill." 
 
 " Yes, isn't it too bad ? I was so sorry to 
 hear it. Tell your mother, by the way, dear, 
 that I tried to make some elderberry wine this 
 summer, and that mine wasn't nearly as good 
 as hers. Mrs. Jameson's elderberry wine is a 
 Renwyck's Town institution," Mrs. Crowell 
 explained to Margery. 
 
 " We are going to Gertrude Brown's too, 
 and to Mrs. Sykes'," Polly added with a 
 laugh. 
 
 " I won't detain you then," Mrs. Crowell 
 declared. " If you fall into Mrs. Sykes' 
 clutches she will keep you until dark while 
 she gives you a long account of all the mis- 
 doings of her neighbors. If you want to get 
 home by supper time, I advise you to hurry 
 now. Good-bye, dear." 
 
 Mrs. Crowell was a true prophet. When 
 they drew up at the little cottage of Mrs. 
 Sykes, that worthy but talkative woman
 
 "I'M SORRT, DICK' 217 
 
 threw her apron over her head and ran out 
 to the gate to talk to them. She had so 
 much to tell : her gratitude for the clothes 
 that Mrs. Jameson had sent ; the scandalous 
 way in which her next door neighbor had 
 borrowed a pound of flour from her and 
 never returned it ; what the Ladies' Aid So- 
 ciety had said to her about her carpet rags, 
 and her own wise and witty reply ; the dread- 
 ful way in which the children of her opposite 
 neighbor quarreled among themselves. 
 
 At last Spy thanks to surreptitious tick- 
 lings with the whip became so restless that 
 they were forced to move off, Mrs. Sykes' 
 voice floating after them until they were out 
 of ear-shot : 
 
 "Don't forget, Miss Polly, to tell yer 
 mother how much obliged I am fer these 
 things ! And, fer the land's sake, do you 
 think it's safe fer a young girl like you ter 
 drive a dangerous animal like that? I 
 never trust a horse that won't stand ! Give 
 me a quiet horse, I says. And don't forget, 
 Miss Polly, ter tell yer mother what I said to 
 
 the Ladies' Aiders, and " The rest was 
 
 lost in the clatter of Spy's hoofs.
 
 218 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " Whew ! " gasped Polly. " Anything left 
 of you, Margie? Did you ever hear any- 
 body talk so much ! I suppose she's lonely, 
 poor soul and all that stored-up talk breaks 
 loose when she sees any one. Mother told 
 me this morning that I was as bad, I talk so 
 much about the football game day after to- 
 morrow ! Are't you excited, Margery ? I am 
 thrilled. It must be fine to have your cousin 
 on the team. Dick doesn't seem a bit excited, 
 does he? he never does." 
 
 " No, I wish he did, sometimes. It will be 
 fun at the game, won't it? Renwyck's Town 
 is a pretty jolly sort of a place, after all." 
 
 " Of course it is, goosie ! Here we are at 
 Gertrude Brown's. She is a poor lame girl 
 that Dr. Huston is trying to help. Hold the 
 reins, while I skip up and knock." 
 
 " Do you think I can hold such a wild 
 beast? 'I never trust a horse that won't 
 stand,' " quoted Margery teasingly, as Polly 
 jumped out of the carriage and sped up the 
 pathway to the drab little house standing 
 under two giant maple trees. 
 
 " There," said Polly, " that's done. Now 
 for Mr. Morris's."
 
 "I'M SORRT, DICK' 219 
 
 " This is a lovely place, isn't it ? " Margery 
 remarked, as they turned in between Mr. Mor- 
 ris's gate-posts. 
 
 " Isn't it ? Wouldn't it be fun to live here ? 
 think of the house-parties you could give ! 
 And the fun you could have ! It always 
 seems a shame to me that there isn't somebody 
 young here to enjoy it." 
 
 " Hasn't Mr. Morris any family, and 
 doesn't he ever give any parties ? " Margery 
 asked regretfully. She thought that she 
 would like to attend a party in the stately 
 white house before her. 
 
 " He has a son somewhere. He's married, 
 I think. No, Mr. Morris never entertains, 
 except, perhaps, somebody to dinner. He 
 sticks pretty much to himself, although 
 everybody likes him. But he reads a good 
 deal, I imagine, and then he's away most of 
 the time, anyway. He goes to New York a 
 lot, and he is always going down to some 
 springs in Virginia for his health. No hope, 
 Margery Daw, no parties here ! Oh, goody, 
 there's the gardener now. Here, Charles," 
 she called softly to a man tying up a rose-bush 
 by the front steps, " won't you come here
 
 220 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 and get this ? Take it into the house right 
 away, please, and tell the nurse that Mrs. 
 Jameson sent it to Mr. Morris. How is he to- 
 day? ' A little bit better '? I'm so glad. Oh, 
 yes, I suppose that it will take him a while to 
 get well, and that they will have to be very 
 careful with him. Now then, Margery," she 
 declared as she turned Spy around, " I'll get 
 you home as soon as I can." 
 
 At the gateway of the farm, Margery offered 
 to get out and walk up to the house that Polly 
 might reach town so much the sooner. " All 
 right, if you don't mind," Polly agreed. 
 "Thank you for coming with me. Good-bye." 
 
 Left alone, Margery strolled slowly up the 
 pine-tree bordered avenue. Under the spell 
 of Polly's congenial society she had largely 
 forgotten Dick and the strained feeling that 
 had arisen ; in the twilight, alone, her mind 
 went back to her difficulties. 
 
 " After all," she thought, idly scuffling with 
 her feet the pine-needles that had fallen on 
 the level driveway, " it was mean to tease Dick 
 so much. He didn't tease me when I had 
 such a horrid time at school." She stopped 
 and picked up a pine-cone. " It was nice of
 
 /'M SORRT, DICK' 221 
 
 him. I suppose Deborah was right," she went 
 on thoughtfully turning the pine-cone over in 
 her hand ; " boys don't like to be made fun of. 
 Perhaps I have hurt his feelings. Oh, dear, 
 I suppose that I ought to apologize. Polly 
 would apologize as quick as a wink." 
 
 She walked slowly on again. Suddenly at 
 the end of the driveway she threw the pine- 
 cone at the horse-block, and ran lightly up the 
 portico steps. " I will apologize," she said 
 aloud, as she opened the front door. 
 
 The hallway was dark. Margery stopped, 
 astonished, for she knew that as night came 
 on Deborah's first care was always to light the 
 lamp in the hall where it gave a welcome to 
 all who might come to the door. 
 
 " Hello, somebody ! " cried Margery, feeling 
 her way to the library. " Anybody home ? " 
 
 Dick opened the door. " Oh, hello, Mar- 
 gery," he said quietly. " Come in. Don't 
 make any more noise than you have to 
 Deborah's gone up-stairs to bed." 
 
 "To bed?" 
 
 " Yes, she's feeling pretty seedy. I wanted 
 to send for the doctor, but she says she just 
 wants to get into bed and be let alone."
 
 222 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 11 Why, Dick, what do you think is the 
 matter ? Do you think that she is very ill ? " 
 
 "Oh, no. She says that it is just a little 
 attack of inflammatory rheumatism, and that 
 she has had it before." 
 
 " I'll go right up to see her." 
 
 " Better not. She says that she wants to 
 get all the sleep that she can. She's tired 
 anyway, she had those women cleaning here 
 yesterday, and then she caught a little cold." 
 
 " Oh, dear, I hope it wasn't from fussing 
 over my old toothache." 
 
 " Don't you worry," Dick consoled her. 
 " Inflammatory rheumatism comes from some- 
 thing in your system. The cold just started 
 her off. Let's have supper now, I'm hungry. 
 Deborah put out a cold supper for us, and 
 Thomas can wash up. Ready, Benjamin ?" 
 
 As they left the dining-room after supper, 
 Margery drew Dick back. " I'm sorry, Dick," 
 she said softly, "that I teased you so. I didn't 
 mean to be disagreeable." 
 
 Dick grinned somewhat shyly. " All right, 
 Marge," giving her hand a vigorous shake. 
 " I was a gump to get so peeved. Want any 
 help with your algebra? "
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 
 
 A CASUAL observer, wandering down a cer- 
 tain pleasant side street in old Renwyck's 
 Town at about eleven o'clock on any school 
 morning, might have been under the impres- 
 sion that a theatrical company was rehearsing 
 for the mob in Julius Caesar. Such shout- 
 ings, such wild yells, such a general din ! But 
 instead of mimic grief and anger, the noise 
 came from real joy. The Friends' school was 
 at recess. A few fussy old ladies might bang 
 down their windows in futile protest, or a 
 near-by mother say despairingly that it was 
 positively no use trying to put Baby to sleep 
 until after recess was over, but as a rule such 
 inhabitants of Renwyck's Town as happened 
 to be passing paused to look over the old 
 wall, thankful that there were so many strong 
 young bodies to run and play, so many happy 
 hearts to be lifted up in shouts of joy. 
 
 223
 
 224 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 By an unwritten law the girls and boys, 
 however much they might be together out of 
 school hours, ignored each other during re- 
 cess. The boys gathered at one side of the 
 big school yard to practice football, or in 
 spring, cricket and baseball, while the girls 
 either stayed indoors, or twined arms and 
 walked, long strings of them, sedately up and 
 down under the old walnut trees, chattering 
 as fast as their agile young tongues could go. 
 Here and there some more exclusive spirit 
 wound her arm around the waist of a chosen 
 intimate, and they sauntered apart from the 
 others in the more secluded section of the 
 yard. Polly usually either perched on a desk 
 indoors, or, if out-of-doors, on the top bar of 
 the side fence, from which high point of van- 
 tage she held forth to an interested group of 
 girls on whatever subject happened to be 
 nearest to her heart. 
 
 Since the beginning of her friendship with 
 Polly, Margery usually perched beside her, an 
 accepted member of the group. Thanks to 
 the spirited championship of her cause by 
 Polly who was decidedly the most popular 
 girl in the school and also to their better
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 225 
 
 acquaintance with her, Margery had come to 
 be liked by the other girls. 
 
 Being at a co-educational school, the girls 
 had absorbed some of the modes of thought 
 of their boy companions ; chief among these 
 was their respect for the quality of " square- 
 ness " ; and Margery was undeniably very 
 "square." 
 
 In her turn, Margery had come to like her 
 schoolmates, finding in these cheerful, whole- 
 some young people a society that was really 
 more congenial to her than was that of the 
 girls amongst whom she had been thrown. 
 
 The morning after their drive together 
 found Polly and Margery at recess, sitting on 
 the side fence, while Polly, her long legs 
 gracefully hooked through the rails to make 
 her perch the more secure, expounded to a 
 hilarious circle of girls a new labor-saving 
 method of writing themes. 
 
 " Of course, I love writing," she declared. 
 " I'd rather write the kind of things I like to 
 write than do anything else on earth. But I 
 do hate scribbling away at the old subjects 
 Teacher Rachel and Teacher Abigail give us. 
 ' Nice instructive subjects,' " a world of scorn
 
 226 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 in her voice. " ' How iron is mined/ and 
 ' wheat elevators/ and things like that. I 
 could give lots better subjects : ' How it feels 
 to fall out of a flying machine/ or ' What a 
 polar bear thinks of the people that come to 
 the zoo/ Oh, there's no use in making life as 
 dull as Teacher Abigail does." 
 
 " But how are you going to make writing 
 themes any easier?" asked a fat damsel who 
 had tried to perch on the rail beside Polly 
 and, losing her balance, had hastily decided 
 that she preferred to stand. 
 
 " It's this way you know Kubla Khan 
 was the result of a dream." 
 
 "What's Kubla Khan?" asked the fat 
 damsel eagerly. 
 
 " It isn't a new kind of sundse, anyway," 
 answered a sharp-eyed, thin little girl, with a 
 meaning glance at the plump arm beside her. 
 
 " It's a poem. By Coleridge," Polly went 
 on hastily, seeing a storm about to brew. 
 " You see, Coleridge went to sleep one day 
 after dinner and dreamed it, and when he 
 woke up all he had to do was to remember it 
 and write it down, and there was a beautiful 
 poem, all nicely done for him. Now my plan
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 227 
 
 is : when I have to write some deadly dull 
 thing, on ' carpet-tacks,' say, full of informa- 
 tion (I loathe information I wish there 
 wasn't any such thing in the world), I'll just 
 say ' carpet-tacks, carpet-tacks ' over and over 
 to myself when I'm going to sleep, and then 
 I'll dream about carpet-tacks, and in the 
 morning all that I'll have to do will be to 
 write it down." 
 
 11 The encyclopaedia's surer," suggested a 
 sceptic. 
 
 Polly was not to be discouraged. " Oh, 
 with practice the other way will do wonder- 
 fully. Making your subconscious mind work, 
 they call it," she explained learnedly. " I 
 tried it last night." 
 
 " How did it work ? " 
 
 " Only pretty well," Polly admitted with a 
 grin. " I hadn't any particular subject to 
 work on, so I just took the first word that 
 came into my mind. That was toast. I said 
 ' toast, toast ' just as hard as I could before I 
 went to sleep. I did dream a lot about toast, 
 but when I woke up all that I could remem- 
 ber was that somebody said in my dream, ' The 
 buttered toast had the wings of a cat.' But
 
 228 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 of course, it takes practice, like everything 
 else. Oh, Dick is beckoning to you, Mar- 
 gery ! " 
 
 Margery slipped out of the laughing group, 
 and, breaking all school-yard conventions, 
 hurried over to Dick, who was standing apart 
 from the other boys, violently beckoning to 
 her. 
 
 " I didn't want to butt into that group of 
 gigglers," Dick explained. " That's why I 
 beckoned to you. Dr. Huston has just been 
 here to see me. After we left this morning 
 Deborah telephoned for him. He says that 
 she is in for a pretty sharp attack of rheuma- 
 tism. He was hopping mad, too, about her 
 getting up this morning to see about break- 
 fast ; and he says that we shall have to get 
 somebody to help her at once. I have per- 
 mission to get off just as soon as Latin is over 
 next period, and hunt up Agnes, that's 
 Thomas's sister. She's usually willing to 
 come if we want her. She can do the cook- 
 ing, and with Denis O'Flanigan's daughter to 
 help her take care of Deborah, we can get 
 along, for a while, at any rate. All the 
 nurses in town are busy, and it's a nuisance
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 229 
 
 and an expense to import one from the city, 
 unless we positively need one." 
 
 "Oh, Dick," cried Margery, dismayed, at 
 the end of Dick's long speech. " Poor Deb- 
 orah ! How shall we get along ? Oh, I do 
 wish Grandpapa were home ! " 
 
 " So do I," was Dick's heartfelt answer. 
 " For more reasons than one." 
 
 " It's awful not having anybody to take 
 charge of things," Margery went on. " Of 
 course, at home, Papa and Mamma are al- 
 ways there to look after everything. Well, 
 anyway," she concluded, her mind flying back 
 to Deborah, " I hope poor Deborah won't be 
 ill long. I " 
 
 The school bell rang for the end of recess. 
 Margery started pell-mell for the school door, 
 and Dick followed, picking up the side-combs 
 she shed on the way. 
 
 " Here, glue 'em on next time," he whis- 
 pered as he handed them to her. " I'll go to 
 
 see Agnes " A teacher turned a warning 
 
 eye upon him, and Dick's voice trailed away 
 discreetly. 
 
 When the children reached home after 
 school they found Thomas's sister already
 
 230 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 installed in the kitchen. Agnes was a tall, 
 thin, middle-aged colored woman with a 
 tongue that wagged almost as constantly as 
 that of the inexhaustible Mrs. Sykes. She 
 took pains to inform Margery at once that, 
 " Ah don't play bridge, an' ah don't go to no 
 saloons, an' ah don't patronize the movin' 
 pictures, ah takes mah pleasure in talk." 
 By evening, as she heard Agnes's voice in- 
 cessantly lifted up in chatter to Thomas and 
 the farmer's daughter, or, lacking a more re- 
 sponsive audience, to the cat or the kitchen 
 stove, Margery came to the conclusion that if 
 Agnes's pleasure consisted of " talk," her life 
 must be one round of enjoyment. 
 
 Margery was rather startled, when she tip- 
 toed into Deborah's room after luncheon, to 
 find her so pale and tired, and her face so 
 drawn with evident suffering. " Oh, Deb- 
 orah," she whispered, " I'm so sorry that 
 you're ill. Can't I do anything for you? " 
 
 Deborah turned her head on the pillow. 
 She was evidently glad to see Margery. " No, 
 thank you, dear," she said. "Just don't 
 worry, that's all. Try not to take cold, and 
 wear your rubbers if it rains. I'll be better
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 231 
 
 to-morrow, surely. Did Agnes get your din- 
 ner all right, and make you comfortable? 
 I'm so glad that Dick was able to get her. 
 Now be sure to tell me if she doesn't do 
 things right. It's hard to see the bright side 
 of being tied here by the leg, when there is 
 so much that I ought to be doing for you 
 children. But I suppose that it was sent to 
 keep me from falling down-stairs and break- 
 ing my arm, or having some other such ac- 
 cident. Which would be worse, and would 
 keep me laid up longer. Now, be sure and 
 not worry, dear. And have just as much fun 
 with Polly Jameson and the other girls as 
 though I were around. I think I hear a 
 carriage coming up the driveway. Perhaps 
 you had better go and see who it is." 
 
 Margery hurried down-stairs, and found 
 that Polly and Esther had stopped in to 
 bring her "Pride and Prejudice," which Polly 
 had recommended as " simply thrilling," and 
 to spend the afternoon if they were urged. 
 
 " I wish," said Margery that evening, as 
 she finished studying her Latin, and closed 
 the book with a bang, " that Deborah were 
 well."
 
 232 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " I wish so too," said Benjamin, disconso- 
 lately, leaning his head against Margery's 
 shoulder. " I don't like it without Deborah." 
 
 Dick lifted his head from the map he was 
 drawing. " It does seem queer without her," 
 he agreed. " Nothing seems like home, some- 
 how." 
 
 " Never mind, Benjie dear," urged Margery, 
 rather aghast at his evidently mournful state 
 of mind, "just as soon as I have read over 
 this page of history once more, I'll " she 
 hesitated, for she had been looking forward to 
 reading " Pride and Prejudice " " I'll play 
 checkers with you. Cheer up, Benjamin ; 
 Deborah will be better to-morrow ; she says 
 so herself." 
 
 Alas, Deborah was no better the next day, 
 or the next to that. 
 
 "She really isn't so ill," Dr. Huston told 
 Margery on the afternoon of the third day, 
 "but she's mighty uneasy. And she's worried 
 about you children, afraid that you aren't 
 being made comfortable. That room of hers 
 looks pretty cheerless to me, shades on the 
 skew, and things out of kelter. I don't think 
 much of that Agnes, in a sick room, at any
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 233 
 
 rate. She's too slam-bang, and too talkative. 
 As for that farmer's daughter, she's a stupid 
 lump ! See here, you look like a healthy 
 youngster," and the doctor glanced with pro- 
 fessional approval at Margery's clear, bright 
 eyes, and smooth, healthy skin. " Can't you 
 take up your end of the burden a little ? I 
 think you children have rather neglected Deb- 
 orah. Go and cheer her up this afternoon ; read 
 to her, or talk to her, she needs that more 
 than she needs medicine. Straighten that 
 room up a little. Dick tries to do what he 
 can, but he's more at home on the football 
 field. There's a little verse I'd like all you 
 young people to learn by heart : 
 
 " ' Life is mostly froth and bubble, 
 Two things stand like stone : 
 Kindness in your neighbor's trouble, 
 Courage in your own.' 
 
 Now, just be as much of a success at 
 cheering Deborah as you were at catching me 
 the other day, and I'll bring you that verse 
 framed. Good-bye." The old doctor hurried 
 into his overcoat and bustled off, to carry, in 
 his own queer, brusque way, courage and con- 
 solation to the next sufferer.
 
 234 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Margery went up the stairs thoughtfully ; 
 she had made a delightful engagement with 
 Polly and two of their classmates for the 
 afternoon. 
 
 As she opened Deborah's door and glanced 
 about her, Margery decided that the doctor 
 was right. The room was cold and dreary. 
 It was quite evident that incapable, indiffer- 
 ent hands had made the untidy bed, and left 
 newspapers and medicine bottles on the table. 
 A tray with Deborah's dinner dishes on it 
 stood on the window sill beneath a curtain 
 pulled carelessly askew. Altogether a very 
 different room from what it was when Deb- 
 orah was able to give it her usual dainty 
 care. 
 
 " Yes, isn't it dreadful ? " sighed Deborah 
 as Marger}' glanced about her critically. " Ag- 
 nes is a pretty good cook, but she is awfully 
 untidy. I try to make her keep things 
 picked up, but this morning I felt too weak 
 and tired to cope with her. But never mind 
 that now, come sit beside me, child, and 
 tell me how things are going at school. Is 
 Agnes getting the meals all right ? And, 
 Margery, when Benjamin comes in, won't
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 235 
 
 you see that he changes his feet, if he has 
 been playing down by the creek. He ran in 
 here for a minute after lunch, and he seemed 
 croupy to me." 
 
 "All right, Deborah," Margery agreed. 
 " I'll look after the young gentleman. But 
 first I'm going to straighten things up here a 
 little." 
 
 "Oh, will you, dear?" sighed Deborah 
 gratefully. " It's very sweet of you." 
 
 " Now close your eyes," Margery com- 
 manded, " and don't look until I tell you." 
 As quietly as she could, Margery tiptoed 
 about the room, straightening the shades, 
 shaking out the window-curtains with their 
 quaint ball fringe, rearranging Deborah's old- 
 fashioned little belongings on the high ma- 
 hogany bureau, putting the tray and news- 
 papers outside the door in the hall for Agnes 
 to take down-stairs. 
 
 " There," she said, as she smoothed the 
 quilt over Deborah. " You may look now." 
 
 Deborah obediently opened her eyes. " You 
 dear child ! How different things look 1 " 
 
 " Who did your hair this morning ? " de- 
 manded Margery.
 
 236 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Bertha O'Flanigan, I suppose that it 
 looks like it," and Deborah made a little 
 grimace of disgust. " My arms are too stiff 
 to raise them to my head." 
 
 " I'm going to do your hair for you." 
 
 Margery's hands were deft ; with a few gen- 
 tle brushings and pattings Deborah's hair was 
 arranged more comfortably. " Now then, 
 wait and see what is coming," and Margery 
 skipped out of the room. 
 
 In her own room she found a bottle of 
 toilet water. As she took it from the dress- 
 ing table a thought struck her ; Deborah's 
 old gray dressing jacket looked dreary ; here 
 in the cupboard were two dainty little flannel 
 negligees hanging side by side, one pink and 
 one blue. 
 
 Like other generous people Margery found 
 real pleasure in giving. " Oh, what fun ! " 
 she thought, as she took down the pink 
 jacket. " Deborah will be crazy about this 
 one." With the bottle of lilac water in one 
 hand, and the negligee in the other, she ran 
 back to Deborah. 
 
 " There," she laughed, as she slipped the 
 little garment around Deborah's shoulders,
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 237 
 
 " you look as sweet as a pink. I'll put some 
 of this stuff 011 your forehead before I go 
 down-stairs. Anything more that I can do 
 for you ? " 
 
 " Nothing, but just take a look at my flow- 
 ers, I'm sure that they haven't been watered 
 since I came up-stairs." 
 
 " All right, when I come in. I'm going 
 to meet Polly at half-past three, under the big 
 tree by the turnpike. It will take me half an 
 hour to get there, so I'll have to skip." 
 
 " Where are you going with Polly ? " Deb- 
 orah asked a trifle wistfully. 
 
 " Over to see Helen Montgomery, one of 
 the girls in our class. She lives on the other 
 side of town. She's the girl I told you about 
 who has such pretty red cheeks. Elizabeth 
 Harper is to be there, too." 
 
 " Oh, yes. Isn't it nice you're going to see 
 her ? What happy times you young girls do 
 have. Good-bye, dear." 
 
 "Good-bye." 
 
 Putting on her coat as she went, Margery 
 ran out of the house. At the back of her 
 mind she was not feeling comfortable. Al- 
 though she reassured herself that she had done
 
 238 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 all that the doctor expected, Deborah's weary 
 face persisted in rising up before her. 
 
 " Bother ! " she ejaculated as she reached the 
 gate. " I suppose I ought to go and see about 
 those flowers, and about Benjamin. Perhaps 
 it is mean to leave Deborah alone all after- 
 noon. Oh, pshaw ! " 
 
 She loitered, irresolute. 
 
 " Oh, bother ! Bother ! " she cried to her 
 inconvenient conscience ; and turning on her 
 heel she ran up the avenue. Panting she hur- 
 ried to the telephone, and between gasps for 
 breath, managed to explain to Polly who 
 fortunately had not started yet that she 
 would not be able to meet her that afternoon. 
 
 " Why, of course," agreed Polly cordially. 
 " You couldn't leave Deborah ! Yes, of course, 
 I understand. I'll explain to Helen." 
 
 Margery hung up the receiver, feeling rather 
 better satisfied. 
 
 As she went through the front hall again, 
 she wrinkled up her nose critically. " Yes, 
 this is a messy looking place," she thought. 
 " Perhaps I ought to have seen that Agnes 
 cleared things up." 
 
 The hall was certainly not in its usual spot-
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 239 
 
 less order. A gingham apron hung carelessly 
 across the newel-post ; the boys' gum boots 
 and tennis rackets lay piled on the old sofa 
 instead of being put away in the cupboard 
 under the stairs as they belonged ; the flowers 
 in the vase on the little mahogany table were 
 faded, and everything was dusty. 
 
 " If I have to stay in all the afternoon," 
 Margery concluded, picking up the vase, " I 
 may as well clear this mess up. I'll do it." 
 
 The faded flowers she disposed of by the 
 simple expedient of pitching them out into the 
 driveway, the gum boots and tennis rackets 
 she hurled into the cupboard under the stairs, 
 and the gingham apron, after she had used it 
 as a dust-rag, followed them. " Whoever owns 
 that apron may hunt for it," she laughed to 
 herself. " There, that looks better." 
 
 The hall being finished, Margery started for 
 the library. The flowers there and in the 
 dining-room fulfilled Deborah's gloomiest pre- 
 dictions ; they plainly had not been watered, 
 neither had there been any dusting of the 
 heavy, dark mahogany furniture. Marching 
 into the kitchen, Margery demanded a pitcher 
 of water from Agnes.
 
 240 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " Yas'm, ah suttainly was a-goin' to watali 
 dem flowahs, but too much watah makes 'em 
 brittle-like, dat it does." 
 
 " I suppose too much dusting makes the 
 furniture brittle, too," Margery replied with 
 a significant gesture toward the dining-room 
 door. 
 
 " Har ! Har I " laughed Agnes, good-na- 
 turedly. 
 
 Evidently sarcasm was wasted here. " Get 
 me a duster, please," Margery commanded. 
 
 A tornadic dusting followed, and then, being 
 unused to work, Margery had to sit down to 
 rest. " I declare," she thought, " somebody 
 certainly is needed here to keep things straight. 
 Benjamin, dear," she called, as footsteps were 
 heard in the hall, " come in here in the 
 library." 
 
 " Coming. Look, Margie, I can wiggle my 
 ears. You can't do that, can you ? I can 
 show you how, look, Margie, you do it like 
 this," and he leaned across her lap, his muddy 
 little boot rubbing against her skirt. 
 
 " Oh, Benjamin," she cried, remembering, 
 " you must change your shoes and stockings 
 at once I "
 
 THE DOCTOR'S MOTTO 241 
 
 " All right, Margery, but come out on the 
 portico and watch me walk on my hands. I 
 can do it finely on the driveway, and it 
 doesn't hurt if I bump my head there. Come, 
 Margie." 
 
 " Very well," Margery agreed, allowing her- 
 self to be dragged to the front door. " But 
 you will come right in ? " 
 
 " Look, Margie ! Just watch me ! " With 
 true little boy eagerness, Benjamin reversed 
 himself, and feet wildly beating the air, 
 essayed three or four steps on his hands. 
 " There, Margery," he panted, as with crimson 
 face he staggered upright once more. " You 
 couldn't do that, could you?" 
 
 " No indeed. Come now." 
 
 " Yes, Margery." But the loud " Whoo-ee " 
 from the gateway of Reggie Smedly, his 
 particular friend, was too beguiling, and Ben- 
 jamin darted off. 
 
 Margery started after him. Benjamin, see- 
 ing a splendid opportunity for a romp, dived 
 into the shrubbery bed. By the time that 
 Margery had squeezed in after him, he had 
 emerged and was gleefully making for the 
 back of the house.
 
 242 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " You can't get me, Margery 1 You can't 
 get me I " he crowed, dancing up and down. 
 
 " Can't 1 1 " cried Margery, as making a 
 sudden sprint and reaching out a long arm 
 she caught him firmly by the collar. " Now 
 then, young man, into the house you go ! " 
 
 Tired and flushed, but laughing in spite of 
 her vexation, Margery marched him into the 
 house and up the stairs, Benjamin protesting 
 every step of the way, but obeying . 
 
 " Now then, Benjie, you may go out and 
 play with Reggie, but don't dare to go near 
 that creek again ! And I'm going to see 
 every time that you get your feet wet that 
 you ' change your feet/ as Deborah says. So 
 remember ! " 
 
 " All right, Margie." Throwing his arms 
 around her neck the affectionate child gave 
 Margery a strangling hug. " You're awful 
 nice to take care of me ! And you're awful 
 pretty, Margery, too you've got an awful 
 nice, long nose," he added with sincere ad- 
 miration. 
 
 " Awful-fo/ nice, not awful nice," Margery 
 corrected mechanically, somewhat dashed by 
 his compliment.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 EESPONSIBILITIES 
 
 " You ought to have seen Benjamin," Mar- 
 gery remarked, sticking her head in at Deb- 
 orah's door. " He thought that he could get 
 away from me and not change his shoes, but 
 I caught him ! " 
 
 " Why, haven't you gone yet, child ? Don't 
 you think that you had better go early, and 
 come home early? unless you stop at the 
 athletic field and wait for Dick to bring you 
 home. I don't like the idea of you two girls 
 driving alone after dusk." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not going," Margery returned 
 easily. " I telephoned to Polly, it might 
 rain, or something. If you wait a few min- 
 utes, I'll bring you another surprise." 
 
 Before Deborah could ask any inconvenient 
 questions about her change of plans, Margery 
 slipped down-stairs again. The library clock, 
 striking four, gave her a suggestion for the 
 
 243
 
 244 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 surprise. " Four o'clock tea," she thought. 
 " Of course 1 " Going into the kitchen, in a 
 not-to-be-disobeyed tone she ordered Agnes to 
 make some tea and toast. Then from the 
 pantry she got out a little tea-tray, and some 
 of the prettiest china from the corner cup- 
 board in the dining-room ; it happened to be 
 Mr. Morris's most cherished Wedgwood, but 
 both he and Margery were blissfully uncon- 
 scious. Deborah was not, and when she saw 
 that precious Wedgwood entering the room 
 on a tray held at a perilous angle, she gasped 
 with horror. 
 
 " There, child, you must be tired out, do 
 sit down," Deborah implored, after Margery 
 had induced old Thomas to make a fire in 
 the fireplace, and the tea-tray had been taken 
 down-stairs again. " Yes, dear, this is better, 
 you've been like a ray of sunshine to-day. 
 I feel like a princess with this pink prettiness 
 to wear -just think, I have something pink 
 at last and the fire, and the tea, and every- 
 thing so neat and shipshape. You'll read 
 to me? That will be fine, if you aren't too 
 tired." 
 
 The art of reading aloud seems to be a lost
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 245 
 
 one, and Margery read no better than the 
 average. In the monotonous voice which she 
 considered suitable to Deborah's choice, the 
 Bible, she droned away until Deborah's weary 
 eyelids closed, and she dropped off for the 
 first sound, drugless sleep she had had in 
 forty-eight hours. 
 
 Deborah asleep, Margery curled up luxuri- 
 ously on the library window sill to read " Pride 
 and Prejudice." Although she did not con- 
 sider that it came up to Polly's description 
 of it as " simply thrilling," she liked it, and 
 found the characters interesting. By and by, 
 however, her own thoughts grew all absorb- 
 ing, and the book slipped off her lap to the 
 floor, while she sat with her knees drawn up 
 to her chin, and her hands clasping her 
 ankles, staring out of the window. At five 
 Benjamin came in, and she got up to light 
 the lamp for him. 
 
 " Deborah plays checkers with me some- 
 times when I come in from playing out- 
 doors," Benjamin remarked pensively. 
 
 " All right, Benjie boy, I can take a hint, 
 when it's big enough," Margery laughed, as 
 usual rinding him amusing. " I'll play with
 
 246 M4RGERT MORRIS 
 
 you until half-past five, then we'll have to 
 begin to get Deborah's supper tray ready." 
 
 As she was putting the finishing touches 
 to the tray, Dick came in. 
 
 " Wherefore this thusness ? " he inquired. 
 
 " I don't like the way Agnes does things," 
 Margery explained. " She is so careless. So 
 I am fixing things myself. Dick," she added 
 briskly, " I'm not going to the game to- 
 morrow." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Oh, because." 
 
 " Why, what's the matter? Had a fall- 
 ing out with Polly and the girls? Well, 
 never mind that ; I can arrange for you to go 
 with Sam's sisters. They're old one of them 
 is nearly twenty-two but they're nice." 
 
 " Of course I haven't had a falling out 
 with Polly ! " cried Margery indignantly. " I 
 wouldn't dream of such a thing ! Besides, I 
 think Polly would be a hard person to fall 
 out with ! It's just this way : Dr. Huston 
 said to-day that Deborah needed cheering up, 
 and that we had been neglecting her. I 
 hadn't thought of it until he spoke, but I can 
 see that he is right. She did look forlorn and
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 247 
 
 lonely when I went up to see her this after- 
 noon. If I go to the game to-morrow that 
 will leave her alone all day, with just Bertha 
 and Agnes, and you know what they are ! " 
 
 " Yes. But I thought that you were crazy 
 to go to the game ? " 
 
 " I was, but oh, well I I'm not going." 
 
 Dick considered the matter in his usual 
 thoughtful fashion. " I see how you feel," 
 he said at last. " I suppose that we have 
 neglected Deborah. It seems pretty mean, 
 when you think of all the nice little things 
 that she does for us, lots and lots more than 
 she need to, or than she is paid for. All the 
 same, Miss Margie," rolling his eyes in com- 
 ical imitation of Thomas, " it's my best scanc- 
 tification dat ye're a brick." 
 
 Margery felt pleased, and suddenly shy. It 
 was new to her to be praised for unselfishness. 
 To cover her embarrassment she called Dick 
 a " provoking boy," and in the same breath 
 ordered him to carry the tray up-stairs, and 
 asked him to admire its appearance. 
 
 Deborah had tactfully suggested a little 
 earlier in the afternoon that the best Wedg- 
 wood had better not be used again, but Mar-
 
 248 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 gery had made the tray pretty with the old 
 blue willow-ware in daily use at the farm. 
 
 " Now look out, Dick, that you don't spill 
 that bowl of broth that's all the supper poor 
 Deborah gets to-night, and I want it to look 
 dainty. Wait a minute you'll be sure to 
 spill something over you I'll tie this apron 
 on you." She unfastened the neat little white 
 apron of Deborah's that she had borrowed, 
 from around her own waist, and tied it around 
 Dick's. " There, you make a very pretty 
 French maid. Oh, I wish I had a cap for 
 you. Wait, I'll get one ! " She ran hastily 
 up to her own room, and by the time that 
 Dick had reached the head of the stairs, she 
 was standing there with a white lace cap in 
 her hands. " Here, put this on ! It's a bou- 
 doir cap that Marie Smythe gave to me. 
 There, you look perfectly sweet ! " 
 
 Dick assumed a most die-away smirk, and 
 hunching up his shoulders in what he fondly 
 imagined to be a ladylike manner, he minced 
 into Deborah's room, followed by Margery 
 and Benjamin. 
 
 " Madame, vbuley de soupey, and de breadey, 
 and de butterey ? " he lisped.
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 249 
 
 "Well," laughed Deborah, "I don't fancy 
 any ' soupey ' very much ; but the nonsense 
 of you children is a wonderful sauce." 
 
 Giving up the football game seemed easy 
 enough in prospect ; but when the end of 
 school came the next day, and Margery had 
 to trudge home by herself to the lonely, 
 quiet old house, it was everything that was 
 hard. Many of the girls and boys had stayed 
 at the school for luncheon, and the very air 
 seemed filled with gayety and color. The 
 girls had worn their brightest sweaters and 
 scarfs, and everybody carried flags, or wore 
 splashing bows of the school colors. And 
 Margery was out of it ! Hardest of all, her 
 action in giving up the game was misunder- 
 stood and put down to indifference or supe- 
 riority. 
 
 Only Polly seemed to understand ; and 
 Dick, of course. As a member of the foot- 
 ball team Dick was one of the big men of 
 the day, but he found time to give Margery 
 an encouraging word and a comforting pat 
 on the shoulder as they filed out of the last 
 recitation of the morning. 
 
 The encouragement that Dick and Polly
 
 250 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 gave her, and the fact that she was never one 
 to give up easily what she had started out to 
 do, was all that kept Margery from turning 
 around, when she was half-way home, and 
 hurrying ignominiously back to the school. 
 
 If Deborah suspected that there was some- 
 thing amiss about the game she made no com- 
 ment, but was so glad to see Margery, and 
 appeared so eager to hear about what every- 
 body was wearing to the game, and saying 
 about it, that by the middle of the afternoon 
 Margery's dissatisfaction had worn off. 
 
 " Deborah," said Margery, as the time drew 
 near for the boys to come home, " I want to 
 talk to you about something important. I 
 think that while you're ill I ought to be 
 housekeeper and try to take your place. 
 Agnes is all right, I fancy, if she is bossed a 
 lot, but things do need a lot of looking 
 after." 
 
 Deborah lay still, thinking. It suddenly 
 occurred to her that Margery's staying home 
 from the game might be based on something 
 else than a mere disagreement with Dick or 
 some of the girls. She rather doubted Mar- 
 gery's ability to cope with Agnes, but she de-
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 25 1 
 
 cided not to stand in her way if she wished 
 to try it. Deborah's wise old eyes had seen 
 that Margery's strong, rather self-willed nature 
 needed responsibility. 
 
 " Very well, dear," she said cordially. " I 
 am sure that you will do it beautifully. It 
 is hard for me to give orders and keep the 
 running of the house in my mind while I am 
 lying here. You can talk over the meals 
 with Agnes, and see that she gives you things 
 that you like. And you might make things 
 look nicer and more homelike for the boys, 
 I'm sure Agnes doesn't make the table pretty. 
 There's a pile of housekeeping magazines in 
 the library that Mrs. Smedly lent me ; suppose 
 you go down and look them over, perhaps 
 you'll find some suggestions there for pretty 
 table decorations. And while you are doing 
 that, I think that I'll take a little nap." 
 
 When Dick and Benjamin came in wildly 
 elated at the success of the school eleven 
 they found Margery so deep in reading 
 " hints " on making a family comfortable 
 and happy that she had forgotten that such 
 things as football games existed. 
 
 Margery kept bravely to her resolution to
 
 252 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 act as deputy housekeeper. Thanks to Deb- 
 orah's gentle guidance, and to her own na- 
 tive, though untried ability, she managed 
 very well, and the house was certainly a more 
 cheerful and homelike place than when it 
 was left entirely to Agnes. 
 
 During the days of her responsibility the 
 pile of housekeeping magazines became famil- 
 iar to the family at the farm, and Deborah 
 had hard work at times to keep from laugh- 
 ing as she watched Margery searching with 
 comical zeal for suggestions from her oracles. 
 " Let beauty be the key-note of your house- 
 hold," the Woman's Journal would urge. 
 " Let nothing be too much trouble to gather 
 beauty," and Margery hurried to decorate the 
 table with an autumnal centerpiece of half a 
 pumpkin, three carrots and a potato, as sug- 
 gested by that fount of wisdom. " Do not 
 attempt fancy effects in decoration," advised 
 the Ladies' Intelligencer, " or have elaborate 
 menus," and Margery at once limited her cen- 
 terpiece to the chaste simplicity of a spray 
 of ivy in a crystal vase, and ordered nothing 
 but soup for dinner. 
 
 Dick and his accomplice in mischief, Sam,
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 253 
 
 thoroughly enjoyed these efforts, and show- 
 ered suggestions upon her which they declared 
 they had copied from the housekeeping col- 
 umn in the newspaper. " Never throw away 
 an old sink-drain," was one gem ; " it will do 
 as the foundation for a chiffon hat." " Save 
 your old oyster shells," said another ; " these, 
 candied, make a delicious dainty to offer at 
 afternoon tea." 
 
 The picturesque in cookery appealed to 
 Margery and she urged Agnes to try each new 
 recipe of a florid nature that she discovered. 
 
 Agnes rebelled. " Ah don't use no receipts," 
 she declared. " Ah cooks by de grace o' God, 
 ah does." 
 
 Finally Agnes, realizing that ornate dishes 
 were Margery's ideal, ordered some vegetable 
 coloring on her own account, and at Sunday 
 dinner served up a wonderful corn-starch pud- 
 ding shaped like a flag, and colored red, white 
 and blue. Margery decided that she pre- 
 ferred not to eat her patriotism, and Agnes 
 was allowed to go back to the old-fashioned, 
 country dishes at which she was an adept. 
 
 From Agnes Margery turned her attention 
 to Dick.
 
 254 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 Dick, at fifteen, suffered the usual school- 
 boy spasms of extreme elegance varied by 
 extreme untidiness. His shoes would shine 
 with such brilliance that he had only to look 
 downward to fall, Narcissus-like, in love with 
 his own image, while at the same time his 
 hair showed an unconventionality absolutely 
 untrammeled by combs and brushes. Again, 
 his socks and neckties were of a resplendence 
 equaled only by a poppy-field in its gayest 
 moments ; his hair of a flatness and shininess 
 suggesting that each particular hair had been 
 glued into place, and then polished with the 
 best brass polish on the market, a refinement 
 of dandyism marred only by the fact that his 
 collar had plainly seen better days, and many 
 of them. Cuffs he abjured altogether ; he was 
 " hardening " his arms, he said, and always 
 wore his shirt sleeves rolled up to his shoulder, 
 however cold the day. 
 
 As tactfully as she could Margery dwelt on 
 the charms of clean collars, and Dick invested 
 in a beautiful one of white rubber, warranted 
 never to wear out and never to need launder- 
 ing ; which had the merit of being able to be 
 carried in his pocket and put on, should his
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 255 
 
 other one not seem equal to the scrutiny of 
 critical eyes, in the back entry, just as the 
 dinner bell rang. She enlarged on cuffs, and 
 Dick continued to wear his shirt sleeves rolled 
 up as usual, but before meals he took the pre- 
 caution of sticking a pair of cuffs into his coat 
 sleeves. The unattached cuffs usually dived 
 into the soup, or shot into the gravy, at crucial 
 moments. 
 
 As a further means of reform, Margery put 
 a toy bank on the table and announced that 
 she was going to fine Dick a penny every time 
 that he rolled his bread into pills, a favorite 
 habit of his which particularly irritated her. 
 Dick grinned. " All right," he said, " if you'll 
 pay up every time that you get a spot on the 
 table-cloth," and he pointed to a cranberry 
 stain with which the young housekeeper had 
 just ornamented the table-cloth. 
 
 In the evenings Dick helped her with her 
 lessons and they became good friends, although 
 Margery was so busy, and Dick spent so much 
 time on the athletic field, that they never had 
 time to get much below the surface in each 
 other's lives. Margery was surprised, there- 
 fore, when rummaging through a drawer in
 
 256 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 one of the bookcases, she discovered a sketch 
 book of drawings of the beautiful old door- 
 ways of Renwyck's Town, and learned from 
 Deborah that they had been drawn by Dick. 
 His father, Deborah told her, had been an 
 architect, and Dick longed to be one himself, 
 a desire which received but scant sympathy 
 from Mr. Morris, who had despised his son-in- 
 law, and grew angry whenever Dick showed 
 any likeness to his father. 
 
 But few letters came from Mr. Morris, and 
 in them he did not mention Margery. He 
 seemed to be traveling rapidly from small 
 town to small town, and from ranch to ranch, 
 and he wrote testily that none of his letters, 
 so far, had caught up to him, and that Dick 
 ought to have seen that they had. Just how 
 Dick was to manage it, he did not explain. 
 It was too soon yet for Margery to have any 
 letters from her father and mother, and alto- 
 gether she had a curiously shut off and de- 
 tached feeling, whenever she happened to 
 think about it. 
 
 She did not see the doctor again, as he paid 
 his brief visits in the morning while the 
 children were at school, but he sent a message
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 257 
 
 that she was doing " splendidly," and would 
 " earn that motto soon." 
 
 The day after Margery took command at 
 the farm Deborah insisted on being allowed 
 to sit up in the easy chair by the sunny win- 
 dow, well wrapped in two gay old patchwork 
 quilts. " I feel more useful this way, al- 
 though I don't have to be useful at all, for 
 Margery takes such wonderful care of every- 
 thing," she explained to Polly, who had come 
 to spend the afternoon. 
 
 Polly looked up from the towel she was cross- 
 stitching for her mother's Christmas present, 
 and regarded Margery with new respect and ad- 
 miration. " Isn't she fine ! " she said cordially. 
 
 Margery undertook to read " Pride and 
 Prejudice " aloud to Deborah, and both of 
 them fell in love with sweet, witty Elizabeth 
 Bennet, and laughed until they cried over 
 Mr. Bennet and Mr. Collins. Gentle Deb- 
 orah greatly admired the haughty Mr. Darcy. 
 " If I had married," she said, " that's the 
 kind of man I'd have liked him to be." But 
 Margery preferred the genial and vivacious 
 Mr. Bingley, and even had a sneaking liking 
 for the villainous, but amiable, Mr. Wickham.
 
 258 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 But when Deborah was weary or suffering, 
 " Pride and Prejudice " was put aside, and the 
 little old Bible of Deborah's slipped out from 
 beneath the pillows that propped her up in 
 the big chair. " Just read me some more 
 about David," Deborah would say ; " that 
 rests me as nothing else does. I like to 
 think of him away up there by himself in 
 those lonely hills, and I love the descrip- 
 tion of him, 'ruddy, and withal of a beau- 
 tiful countenance, and goodly to look upon.' 
 Strange how he was being fitted for life, wasn't 
 it, in all those lonely years ? I suppose that 
 he learned to play on his harp to keep him- 
 self from going crazy from loneliness, and he 
 practiced sling shooting to amuse himself, and 
 to keep the wolves away from his flock, if 
 he hadn't had those years of trial he never 
 could have faced his opportunities. He prob- 
 ably couldn't have played for Saul, and he 
 certainly couldn't have settled Goliath with 
 a sling shot. That's the way with the rest 
 of us, I suppose, we grumble because we are 
 stuck in some lonely or dreary or dull stretch 
 of life, when really we are being taught some- 
 thing that will be the making of us."
 
 RESPONSIBILITIES 259 
 
 Margery grew to love those quiet hours 
 with Deborah. Often they came late in the 
 afternoon, before the lights were lighted ; 
 Dick would occasionally slip in, his manner 
 carefully offhand and casual, but showing in 
 spite of himself that underneath his boyish 
 indifference he, too, appreciated the help and 
 comfort of Deborah's simple philosophy. 
 
 But best of all, Margery loved Benjamin's 
 bedtime, when she went up-stairs to cover 
 him up, and to see that the window was prop~ 
 erly opened, and to hear his whispered confi- 
 dences. The affectionate little lad had wormed 
 his way deeply into her heart, and she was 
 quite sure that another such handsome and 
 charming child never lived. On his side, 
 Benjamin thought her all that any fairy prin- 
 cess was ever supposed to be. 
 
 " You're awful nice, Margie I " he cried one 
 night. " You're awful nice to come and take 
 care of us all. I'll tell you what I'll do for 
 you, Margie : I'll " his gratitude sought for 
 expression and finally landed on the supreme 
 sacrifice of all " I'll marry you when I grow 
 up I Won't that be nice for you, Margie ? "
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 RICE 
 
 As Margery settled deeper into the rather 
 exacting work at school, the first fervor of 
 her attempts at housekeeping wore off. But 
 she continued to show considerable latent 
 ability, and managed her part in the run- 
 ning of the household with, for so young a 
 girl, force and character. Deborah, watching 
 her with kindly, affectionate interest, could 
 see the capable, sensible woman Margery was 
 to be emerging from the spoiled and petulant 
 child. Dick occasionally made wicked allu- 
 sions in Margery's presence to the nice, kind 
 elephant that tried to take care of the poor, 
 motherless chicks by sitting on them, but 
 Margery was used to Dick's teasing by this 
 time, and paid not the slightest attention to 
 him. From every one else she received an 
 amount of praise that might have been in a 
 fair way to turn her head had not that whole- 
 some fall, which so often follows swiftly and 
 
 260
 
 RICE 261 
 
 surely on our pride, saved her from any prig- 
 gish aftermath of her own perfections. 
 
 It began with the fireman's parade in the 
 next town, a festivity of such brilliance that 
 neither Agnes nor the farmer's daughter felt 
 that they could miss it. 
 
 " Yas'm," Agnes declared, " ah's just got 
 ter shed my responsibles fer one day an' go 
 ter that parade if dis whole farm goes ter rack 
 an' ruin. Yas'm, they's a-goin' ter have thirty 
 colored gemmen dressed up like Uncle Sam, 
 an' a float showin' Marse Christopher Colum- 
 bus a-makin' de fust American flag, an' well, 
 ah declare ah just couldn't tell you all der's 
 goin' ter be. Yas'm, ah's just got ter go I " 
 
 It was finally settled that the servants at 
 the farm should go to the parade, but that be- 
 fore they went the table should be set, and 
 everything arranged that Margery would have 
 no trouble in taking Agnes' place for one 
 afternoon and evening. Agnes planned out 
 a simple supper, and gave Margery such 
 explicit directions that she felt she could get 
 the meal in her sleep. 
 
 The afternoon of the parade, when Mar- 
 gery returned from a short drive with Polly,
 
 262 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 she found the house still and practically de- 
 serted. Deborah was asleep, and the boys 
 were playing football in the south meadow ; 
 so, dumping off her things, Margery settled 
 down for a quiet half hour with " The Old 
 Curiosity Shop." The light grew dim, and 
 Margery hastily lighted the candle in the 
 old brass candlestick on the bureau that she 
 might finish "just one more chapter" before 
 she went down-stairs to the kitchen to get 
 supper. The just one more chapter stretched 
 into two, and three, then four and five; 
 the candle burnt down to a little lump of 
 grease, and Margery's straining eyes could 
 scarcely see the print as she still read on, 
 enchanted. 
 
 Suddenly the old clock in the library be- 
 low began to whirr and wheeze. " One," it 
 hiccoughed, " two, three, four, five, six ! " 
 
 " Margery," called Deborah, " are you get- 
 ting supper, dear? " 
 
 With a startled gasp Margery pitched her 
 book on the bureau, blew out the flickering 
 candle, and dashed down the stairs. The 
 kitchen was dark save for a single ray of 
 light coming from the stove ; in her frantic
 
 RICE 263 
 
 search for matches she fell over the rocking- 
 chair, knocked against the table and sent 
 something crashing against the range. There 
 was an instant sizzling, as though a liquid 
 had landed on the hot stove, and a disagree- 
 able smell of some sweet substance burning. 
 
 At last her groping fingers encountered a 
 box of matches, and lighting the lamp, she 
 saw that she had upset the jar of strawberry 
 jam which Agnes had set out for supper. 
 
 " What shall I do? " she wailed, as, holding 
 her nose, she wiped up the sticky, scorching 
 mess. " The boys will be in any minute as 
 hungry as bears ! Oh, dear, why did I read 
 so late ? Bother ! Bother ! Bother ! " 
 
 Full of disgust and impatience at herself, 
 she inspected the dainties spread on the 
 table : a loaf of Agnes' best nut-cake, always 
 a special treat at the farm ; half a cold tongue ; 
 and a bowl of cold, cooked rice, to be made 
 into rice-cakes. Margery was extravagantly 
 fond of nut-cake, so she decided on cutting 
 the loaf at once, and by a generous slice en- 
 couraging herself for her further labors. She 
 cut her thumb of course ! just as Deborah 
 had once prophesied would happen if she did
 
 264 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 not learn to hold a knife properly. Margery 
 hated the sight of blood, and that, together 
 with the pain from the cut, made her feel 
 sick and faint. Her knees wobbling un- 
 certainly under her, she staggered out to the 
 back porch, where the crisp, cold air revived 
 her, and she managed to bandage the hacked 
 thumb with her handkerchief. 
 
 " Oh, dear," she sighed, tenderly pulling 
 the bandage tighter around her thumb, " I'm 
 so tired ! I'm homesick ; I wish that I were 
 back home with Mamma and Papa. If ever 
 I do get home I'll never go away again ! 
 Oh, Mamma ! I miss you so I Scat I You 
 rascal ! " 
 
 This last to old Ebenezer, the barn cat, who 
 came skulking out of the house, carrying 
 something in his mouth. Ebenezer's visit 
 had been highly profitable to himself, as 
 was only too evident to Margery when she 
 hurried into the kitchen. The cold tongue 
 was gone ! 
 
 As she stood staring at the empty platter 
 there was a prodigious stamping of feet and 
 shouting in the back entry, and Dick appeared 
 at the door to announce that he had brought
 
 WHAT'S THIS IN THE FRYIKG-PAN ?''
 
 RICE 265 
 
 Sam Bennett back with him to supper. He 
 received no answer beyond a groan, and after 
 waiting a moment for a more cordial response, 
 he vanished. 
 
 With the calm of despair Margery added 
 the eggs to the rice forgetting the flour and 
 the salt and slapped a spoonful of the mix- 
 ture into the frying-pan. 
 
 " Isn't supper ready yet?" demanded Dick, 
 coming into the kitchen a few minutes later. 
 " We're mighty hungry I What's this in the 
 frying-pan ? " he added, wrinkling a critical 
 nose. " Rice-cakes ? Looks like fried soup ! 
 Great Scott, Marge, a blind duck in a thunder- 
 storm could cook better than you do I " 
 
 This fine specimen of masculine tact was 
 too much for the amateur cook. Bursting 
 into tears, she flung the remaining rice batter 
 at Dick's astonished head, and rushed from 
 the kitchen. 
 
 Safe in her own room, she flung herself 
 down on the bed, and burying her head under 
 the folded quilt at its foot, wept tragically. 
 The homesickness which, for the past few 
 days, had been hovering over her like a hawk 
 over a chicken, had swooped down.
 
 2 66 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 But the tears would not last long, and after 
 vainly trying to squeeze out a few extra ones, 
 she stuck her head out from under the quilt, 
 and lay thinking. Was she to be beaten and 
 kept weeping in her room by a cut thumb 
 and fried rice-cakes ? No, indeed. 
 
 She sat up to consider the matter. With a 
 choking sob she recalled a phrase often on 
 her father's lips, " Be a sport, little girl. Be 
 a sport ! " Well, she supposed that she wasn't 
 being much of a sport now ; besides, Deborah 
 must be wanting her supper. She would have 
 to brace up and go down-stairs to get her some 
 toast and tea. But oh, dear, how she did dread 
 facing those boys ! 
 
 As, cherry-nosed and swollen-eyed, Margery 
 marched down the stairs she met Dick, carry- 
 ing a lighted lamp in one hand, and in the 
 other a plate, whereon lay a dejected and 
 leathery-looking fried egg, and several pieces 
 of bacon. 
 
 " Oh, hello, Marge," he beamed. " I was 
 just bringing you up some supper. Hadn't 
 you better come down and help me get 
 Deborah's? you know how she likes her 
 tray fixed better than I do. She's been call-
 
 RICE 267 
 
 ing for you. And see here, kid," he added 
 shyly, " I'm awfully sorry I upset you. You 
 bet I am ! " 
 
 " Mercy, Dick, it wasn't your fault I I'm 
 sorry I was such an idiot. But I was so tired, 
 and Ebenezer stole the tongue Agnes had put 
 out for us, and I upset the jam all over the 
 stove, and it scorched horribly, and I cut my 
 thumb, and then you came in and added the 
 last straw ! " 
 
 " That's too bad," Dick sympathized. " I'm 
 mighty sorry. Why didn't you tell me, and I 
 could have helped you? I can cook eggs to 
 beat any cook living," and Dick proudly held 
 up the plate with the rapidly chilling fried 
 
 egg- 
 
 " Thank you," said Margery sweetly as she 
 accepted the plate ; " that looks very nice. 
 Oh, Dick ! " she cried as Dick shifted the 
 lamp to his other hand, and the light fell on 
 his head, " your hair is all full of rice ! " 
 
 Dick ran his hand through his hair, and 
 withdrew it well covered with rice batter. 
 "So it is!" he exclaimed in astonishment. 
 "That's what Benjamin and Sam were laugh- 
 ing about, I wondered what had struck them,
 
 268 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 and they wouldn't tell me the joke. Well, 
 that's one on me ! " 
 
 " It certainly is one on you," giggled 
 Margery. 
 
 After a moment's uncertainty Dick joined 
 in her amusement, and they leaned against 
 the banisters in peals of laughter. 
 
 "What's the joke?" cried Deborah from 
 above. " And where's my supper? " 
 
 " Oh, dear," Margery gasped, as, weak from 
 so much merriment following upon so much 
 grief, she sank on the bottom step. " I beg 
 your pardon for throwing the stuff at you. 
 Oh, dear, if anybody ever says ' rice ' to me, 
 I shall die ! " 
 
 And indeed, for days after that, neither 
 Dick nor Margery considered anything to be 
 half so witty as the mere mention of the one 
 word rice.
 
 CHAPTER XVin 
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 
 
 " HENRY WADSWORTH LONGFELLOW was 
 born in Maine. When he grew up he went 
 to Spain." 
 
 With a long yawn Margery put down her 
 pencil, and clasping her hands behind her 
 head, leaned back in her chair. What else 
 could she find to say ? The L. A. L. was to 
 have its initial meeting at Polly's house the 
 next afternoon, and each member was to read 
 an original paper. Polly's cousin, Miss Hoo- 
 ver, the novelist, had offered to give a prize 
 of a silver pin for the best effort. And poor 
 Margery, who burned to achieve literary 
 fame, could think of nothing to write about ! 
 
 " Oh, Margie, Deborah wants you, please," 
 announced Benjamin, suddenly appearing. 
 " Pshaw I " as he caught sight of the pencil 
 lying on the table. " You've chewed all the 
 paint off the end of my new pencil I It was 
 a ten-center, too I " 
 
 269
 
 270 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " I'm awfully sorry, Benjamin dear," Mar- 
 gery apologized, genuinely distressed at the 
 havoc she had wrought. " I'll buy you a 
 new one, really I will, two new ones. You 
 see," lowering her voice confidentially, " I'm 
 trying to write a paper for to-morrow. Don't 
 tell Dick, for we don't want the boys to know 
 they'd make fun of us but Polly and 
 Esther and I are all going to write papers, 
 and then to-morrow we're going to read them 
 at Polly's house, and Miss Hoover, Polly's 
 cousin, will give us a prize for the best one. 
 I'm stuck, simply can't think of a thing 
 to write about. Esther ruled travel articles 
 out, because she says she's never been any- 
 where, so we have to either write an original 
 story, or a sketch of some writer. It would 
 be easy enough if I could only write about 
 some of the places out home." 
 
 Benjamin continued to ruefully inspect his 
 battered pencil. " Deborah knows lots of 
 stories," he suggested, " about Indians and 
 bears and things. Will you get me a plaid 
 pencil like Reggie Smedly's, Margie? And a 
 green one, with a rubber on the end ? You 
 can get awful nice pencils at Wilson's, Margie."
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 271 
 
 " Awful-fo/ nice," corrected Margery, auto- 
 matically. " Wasn't I stupid not to think 
 of Deborah ? " 
 
 Deborah proved to be a gold mine of old 
 legends and quaint stories, and it was with 
 high hopes of winning the prize that Margery 
 presented herself at the Jamesons' front door 
 on the following afternoon. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Jameson were standing in the 
 hall and turned to speak to her as she en- 
 tered. " So this is the little girl who is tak- 
 ing care of them out at the farm so splen- 
 didly?" exclaimed Mr. Jameson; " and now 
 you are going to cover yourself with literary 
 honors ? Well, well, what the young people 
 of the present day can't do isn't worth doing. 
 No wonder that you're all thin, like Polly, 
 though." 
 
 Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Jameson could be ac- 
 cused of being unduly thin ; indeed, they 
 made up for Polly's shortcomings in the 
 matter of avoirdupois by both being exceed- 
 ing plump, a nice, rosy, cheerful plumpness. 
 They themselves, however, did not admire it, 
 and were "always intending to undergo some 
 new treatment of exercise or dieting that
 
 272 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 they believed would make them over into 
 graceful, willowy beings, and always finding 
 that the weather was too warm, or too cold, 
 to undertake the treatment just then, and so 
 postponing it until the season should be 
 " more settled." 
 
 Polly appeared at the head of the stairs. 
 " Come up, Margery," she called. " Esther's 
 here, and we will begin just as soon as Mother 
 and Cousin Elizabeth can be persuaded to 
 join us." 
 
 The meeting of the L. A. L. was held in 
 Polly's own room, that remarkable apartment 
 which Mrs. Jameson was rarely able to enter 
 without saying pathetically, " Well, Polly 
 darling, if you and your father think this 
 room is pretty, I suppose it is all right ; but 
 to me it looks exactly like a dog's dinner, 
 all made up of scraps of odds and ends." 
 
 Polly, indeed, had indulged her fickle taste 
 to the utmost. On her twelfth birthday her 
 parents had furnished the room as her birth- 
 day present in mahogany, heavy, comfortable 
 and handsome, like Mr. and Mrs. Jameson 
 themselves. But it was not at all according 
 to Polly's ideal, and she had seldom gone to
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 273 
 
 the city with her father without that amiable 
 and doting man being persuaded into buying 
 some new piece of furniture " to liven things 
 up, Father dear." Her tastes never ran in 
 the same lines twice, and on one day Mr. 
 Jameson would be beguiled into buying a 
 Louis Quinze gilt sofa, while on the next he 
 would pay the bill for a massive carved oak 
 chair that looked as though it had come from 
 a doge's palace, but which really had been 
 manufactured by the hundreds in Michigan. 
 Her taste in pictures was as catholic as her 
 taste in furniture, and cheek by jowl with a 
 beautiful copy of the Madonna of the Corona- 
 tion were pinned up rows of the pudgy, 
 squdgy infants advertising a popular brand of 
 soup. Over the bookcase hung a quaint old 
 sampler, on which the laborious fingers of a 
 long-ago great-grandmother had cross-stitched 
 with more industry than knowledge of 
 zoology : 
 
 11 Oh, may Thy powerful word 
 Inspire a breathing worm 
 To rush into Thy kingdom, Lord, 
 To take it as by storm." 
 
 Across the room from this effusion hung n
 
 274 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 salmon-cheeked young lady who simpered 
 archly at a young gentleman in scarlet hunt- 
 ing-coat and jockey-cap, who had evidently just 
 presented her with a box of stove-blacking ; a 
 masterpiece which the Jamesons' grocer had 
 bestowed on all his patrons the Christmas 
 when Polly was ten, and which had so charmed 
 her that she had insisted on having it framed. 
 
 At fourteen Polly herself had come to laugh 
 at these decorative eccentricities. But they 
 had been dear to her childish heart, and she 
 remained loyal to them, as she did to Rosa- 
 belle Marie, the battered old doll whom she 
 had loved, and who now enjoyed a well- 
 earned repose in her chair in a corner of the 
 room. 
 
 Under the lovely picture of the stove-black- 
 ing lady, Polly had placed a table covered 
 with Mrs. Jameson's best table-cloth. On this 
 she placed four rolls of manuscript with all 
 the pomp and dignity of a colored preacher 
 taking up the collection. With a bow she 
 turned toward the judges, Miss Hoover and 
 Mrs. Jameson, who had seated themselves on 
 a frail gift sofa that threatened to collapse at 
 any moment, and announced :
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 275 
 
 " Our distinguished visitor, Miss Margaret 
 Morris, will open the meeting by reading her 
 paper. Oh, Margery, won't you ? Oh, go on, 
 don't be shy I Won't you really ? Well, 
 Esther then. Oh, Esther, do, please 1 Well, 
 then, since everybody is so bashful and mod- 
 est all of a sudden, I'll have to break the ice 
 and read my paper first. I ought to be glad 
 perhaps 1 to catch this noble audience's en- 
 thusiasm while it is at high tide and hasn't 
 had a chance to cool down, and to nail it down 
 with my own literary flower. How's that for 
 mixed metaphors, Cousin Elizabeth ? 
 
 " Well, my literary gem is in the style of 
 the novel Lizzie, that's Cousin Amy's pretty 
 little waitress, lent me one time when I was 
 visiting Cousin Amy, and was don't mention 
 that I mentioned it nearly dying of dullness. 
 I'm sure everybody here will appreciate its 
 high-brow tone." 
 
 " Suppose you begin to read, dear, you can 
 do your talking afterward," suggested Mrs. 
 Jameson, mildly. 
 
 " Anon ! Anon ! I'll begin as soon as 
 I've made my bow." Polly bowed and com- 
 menced :
 
 276 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " With a cold sneer Sir Algernon De Will- 
 oughby De Montague gazed down at the 
 lovely Lady Geraldine. ' To-morrow/ he mut- 
 tered, ' to-mor-r-row you shall be my bride.' 
 Lady Geraldine's damask cheek turned snowy 
 white, and her great, beautiful dark eyes 
 drooped. ' My father has not given his con- 
 sent,' she said, her silvery voice as soft as a 
 zephyr murmuring through the forest at even. 
 1 Even so,' returned the other, a note of triumph 
 in his cruel, rich voice. ' Alas ! ' sighed the 
 unhappy bride-elect. ' Water ! I swoon ! ' 
 As Sir Algernon stepped to the bell to sum- 
 mon a footman, a tall, handsome man, in the 
 uniform of a hussar, handsome as a Greek god, 
 dashed toward the beautiful, swooning girl, 
 and lifting her fragile form in his arms, hur- 
 ried from.the room." 
 
 Polly paused and took a long breath. 
 " That's all of that part," she announced. 
 " My paper is in two sections. Just as I had 
 finished writing the part that I've just read, 
 Mother made me stop and take my shoes to 
 the shoemaker and see if he couldn't do some- 
 thing to take the squeak out of them. When 
 I was trotting home again from the shoemak-
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 277 
 
 er's, Sam Bennett came up back of me on his 
 bicycle he has no business riding on the side- 
 walks and rang his bell suddenly in my ear. 
 I squawked, and hopped frantically off the 
 curbstone, with the result that I caught my 
 tongue between my teeth, and gave it an 
 awful bite. Then I scolded Sam for having 
 startled me so, and altogether, by the time I 
 got home, I couldn't remember how I had 
 meant to finish my story. But I couldn't help 
 remembering my poor tongue, so I wrote a 
 sad, sad poem about it. At the close of the 
 reading of the poem the audience will please 
 rise and join in weeping. Here goes : 
 
 " Then did Hiawatha stepping, 
 Stepping off the curbstone, quickly, 
 Curbstone, dark, and hard, and stony, 
 Curbstone, wide, and brown, and muddy, 
 Curbstone leading to the gutter, 
 With his tongue between his teeth, 
 With his red tongue 'twixt his teeth, 
 Bite his tongue betwixt his strong teeth, 
 As he stepped from off the curbstone. 
 Bite so hard it brought the tears his eyes to, 
 So hard it made him mutter words unwise, too, 
 Made him scowl, and dance, and splutter. 
 Thus did Hiawatha, stepping from the curb- 
 stone, bite his tongue through.
 
 278 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 "There!" exploded Polly with relief, plump- 
 ing down on her mother's lap, a proceeding 
 which, considering the heavy burden it al- 
 ready bore, threatened to finish the life of the 
 little sofa altogether. " Now then, Margery 
 will have to read hers." 
 
 Margery got up rather slowly, and unrolled 
 her manuscript. While Polly had been read- 
 ing, Margery had been regarding Miss Hoover 
 with a whole-hearted absorption so eager and 
 unconscious that Miss Hoover had smiled to 
 herself as she pretended not to notice it. At 
 first Margery had been disappointed ; this 
 quiet, middle-aged woman, with the sweet, 
 sensible face, was far from her ideal of what a 
 successful novelist ought to look like. But 
 she forgot her disappointment when Miss 
 Hoover laughed at Polly's nonsense, a mu- 
 sical, merry laugh that seemed to reveal a 
 sympathetic, genuine personality. Margery 
 at once began to yield her that devotion a 
 young girl so often has for an older woman, 
 and palpitated with dread lest Miss Hoover 
 should not approve of her or her attempt at 
 story telling. 
 
 " I'm afraid my story isn't bright and funny
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 279 
 
 like Polly's," she said. " I haven't any Sir 
 Willoughby about mine. Mine is just a story 
 of the old Colonial days that Deborah told me. 
 " In the early days of this country's his- 
 tory," she began, reading carefully and dis- 
 tinctly, " when the settlers often lived in 
 lonely clearings in the woods, there dwelt 
 somewhere in the forests of old West Jersey a 
 Quaker couple named Heuling and their two 
 children, a boy and a girl. In those times, 
 when there was accident or illness, neighbors 
 had to act for each other as doctors and nurses. 
 One afternoon as the Heulings were just finish- 
 ing making the family soap, boiling it up in 
 a big cauldron, hung gypsy fashion over a 
 fire in the clearing by the front door, their 
 nearest neighbor, who lived five miles away, 
 came riding up. ' Friend Reuben Heuling,' 
 he called, as soon as he was within speaking 
 distance, ' will thee and thy wife come to my 
 help? My good wife Mary is very ill.' As 
 soon as was possible Reuben Heuling saddled 
 his horse and, taking his wife up behind him, 
 hurried with the neighbor to the aid of the 
 sick woman. Martha Heuling felt rather 
 timid about leaving her little boy and girl
 
 280 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 alone in the cabin, for night was falling, and 
 they were only six and seven respectively. 
 But it could not be helped, so she bade them 
 stick close to the cabin, and to run indoors 
 and bar the door should any noise startle 
 them. 
 
 " After their parents had ridden away, 
 Clement and Agnes Heuling played about the 
 big soap cauldron, watching the dying em- 
 bers of the fire, and finally throwing water 
 on it to quench them entirely. Suddenly a 
 crashing through the woods and a growl sent 
 them trembling into the house. Hastily bar- 
 ring the door, they peeped through the open- 
 ing which served for a window. There, sniff- 
 ing at the cauldron of hot soap, was a huge, 
 clumsy bear. The hot cauldron burnt his 
 nose, and with a growl he dropped back and 
 struck at it with his paw. That shook the 
 cauldron, and some of the hot soap spilled 
 over on his paw. With another growl, again 
 he struck at the cauldron, and again the hot 
 soap spilled over him. Then the frightened 
 children saw him stand up on his hind legs, 
 and with a long, angry growl commence to 
 the cauldron as though it were human
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 281 
 
 and he wanted to hug it to death. It burnt 
 him terribly, of course, for it had been heated 
 so thoroughly over the fire that it held its 
 heat for a long time. The more it burnt 
 him, the tighter he hugged and the louder 
 he growled, and the tighter he hugged the 
 worse it burned. ' Clement,' whispered Agnes, 
 ' father's gun ! ' Then Clement, little boy of 
 six as he was, climbed up, and took his 
 father's gun down from above the fireplace 
 where it hung. Pioneer children, they knew 
 how to load it, and then together they carried 
 it to the window. Carefully they aimed, and 
 then together they fired. The recoil sent 
 them flying ; when they picked themselves 
 up, there was the bear lying dead. They were 
 too frightened, however, to risk leaving the 
 cabin, and waited patiently until the moon 
 rose high above the trees, and their father 
 and mother returned. But it was many a 
 long day before they forgot that bear." 
 
 " That was fine," cried Miss Hoover. " And 
 so clearly read. I enjoyed that ever so much, 
 my dear." 
 
 Margery blushed with pleasure. " It was 
 all Deborah, really," she said frankly. " She
 
 282 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 told me the story and helped me to write it. 
 I'd have made a fizzle of it without her." 
 
 " Now then, Esther," Polly commanded, 
 " you read yours." 
 
 " You read it," she whispered, shoving her 
 neatly written paper at Polly. 
 
 Polly laughed. "All right, but I don't 
 read nearly as well as you do. Well, since 
 you won't 
 
 " ' About two hundred years ago, one chilly 
 afternoon in autumn, a fair young girl sat 
 alone in a tower room of a lonely Scotch 
 castle. Her lovely blond head reclined on 
 her small, white hand, and her sweet, thought- 
 ful eyes fell on the floor.' 
 
 " Hope she picked them up," threw in 
 Polly. 
 
 " * Now and then she sighed (Usually spelled 
 e-i-g-h-e-d, Esther, not s-i-e-d) for ' 
 
 " Polly," interrupted Mrs. Jameson, " come 
 out in the hall with me." 
 
 They disappeared for a few minutes, and 
 when they came back Polly was visibly 
 chastened. " Now, having had my lecture 
 for being rude, I'll go on," she said meekly. 
 " Really, Esther dear," slipping her arm
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 283 
 
 around Esther's neck, " I didn't mean to do 
 anything to hurt your feelings." 
 
 Esther laughed. " Oh, I don't mind you, 
 Polly, I suppose Agag happened to be on the 
 job again," she added, teasingly. 
 
 Mrs. Jameson laughed, too, and shook her 
 head ruefully. " When Polly was little," she 
 said, " she used to get what she called ' kihka- 
 je\v.' In other words, so happy and excited 
 that she simply didn't know what she was 
 doing. If this amount of literature excites 
 her so, and makes her so ' kinkajew,' I dread 
 to think what will happen if she ever realizes 
 her ambition and becomes a writer and lec- 
 turer." 
 
 " She will probably stop in the middle of a 
 lecture she is giving," teased Miss Hoover, 
 " and begin to career madly round and round 
 the platform. When her startled manager 
 comes hurriedly forward to find out if she 
 has been taken ill, Polly will sweetly explain 
 that he really mustn't mind, as she is merely 
 feeling ' kinkajew/ because she is enjoying 
 lecturing so much to such a nice, appreciative 
 audience." 
 
 Esther and Margery laughed, but Polly
 
 284 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 maintained a severe solemnity, although her 
 eyes twinkled. " If you ladies are ready," 
 she remarked, "I will go on with this highly 
 instructive and profitable tale : 
 
 " ' Now and then she sighed, for she was 
 almost the last of her brothers and sisters to 
 be left in the old nest, " whence all but she 
 had fled," and she was lonely. Idly she drew 
 a sheet of paper toward her and began to 
 muse on the verses she had been writing the 
 day before. The door opened, and her little 
 sister Elizabeth came into the room. " I have 
 been writing a ballad, my dear," said Lady 
 Anne. " I am oppressing my heroine with 
 misfortune ; I have sent her lover to sea, 
 broken her father's arm, made her father fall 
 sick, and given her old Robin for a lover, but 
 I wish to load her with a fifth sorrow, poor 
 thing I Help me, I pray I " " Steal the cow, 
 Sister Anne," suggested little Elizabeth. So 
 Lady Anne stole the cow, and the ballad was 
 finished, which made Lady Anne famous, 
 after which our club is named.' ' Polly sat 
 down and fanned her flushed face. 
 
 "Fine," declared Miss Hoover. "That was 
 very interesting, Esther, and must have cost
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 285 
 
 you some hours at the library. Let me see 
 Auld Robin was the shepherd who told on 
 Lady Anne and the rest of the children 
 when they tried to run away, wasn't he ? 
 He certainly had his name made famous as 
 punishment, didn't he? I was reading to 
 Polly and her mother one evening here that 
 when Lady Anne sang the ballad to an old 
 gentleman, a neighbor, he grew very angry 
 and cried, ' Ah, the auld rascal ! I ken wha 
 stealt the puir lassie's coo, it was auld Robin 
 himsel' ! ' But now for the pin, I suppose." 
 
 " How are you going to decide, Cousin 
 Elizabeth, which of three such geniuses de- 
 serves the pin?" asked Polly. "You will 
 have to chop it up in three pieces." 
 
 Miss Hoover opened the little silk work-bag 
 she carried on her arm. " I thought of that, 
 Polly," she smiled, holding out three little 
 white boxes. " I really couldn't decide 
 among three such interesting and different 
 papers, but I should like to have the proud 
 distinction of giving their membership badges 
 to the to-be-famous members of the L. A.L." 
 
 The pins were quaint little enameled daisies. 
 " Skiudily scrumptious ! " Polly declared, as
 
 286 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 she fastened her pin on the left side of her 
 blouse like a policeman's badge. " We can't 
 keep these pins secret, we'll just have to show 
 them, and tell about the L. A. L." 
 
 " I'll give a pin to the girl who, at the end 
 of a month, can carry on a conversation with 
 the fewest ' awfullys,' and ' crazys ' and ' sim- 
 ply wild about its,' " Mrs. Jameson remarked. 
 " I'm afraid that Polly won't win that prize ! " 
 
 " I'm perfectly crazy about your offer, 
 Mother dear," said Polly saucily. " And I'm 
 awfully certain that I'll win the pin. I'll be 
 terribly disappointed if I don't, for I'm simply 
 wild about the idea. All right, Mother, I 
 really will try to speak proper, dignified Eng- 
 lish, but it's awfully hard, oh, dear, I mean 
 it's hard. Why so silent, Margery Daw ? " 
 
 Margery finished fastening her pin into the 
 orange tie she was wearing. " I was think- 
 ing," she said slowly. " Yes, thinking," she 
 went on, paying no attention to Polly's dra- 
 matic gesture of surprise, " what fun writing 
 these silly stories and reading them has been." 
 
 Polly crossed her eyes in token of her 
 gratitude. " Thank you, sweet one, for your 
 honest opinion of my literary efforts I "
 
 THE L. A. L. MEETS 287 
 
 Margery laughed and slipped her arm 
 through Polly's. " Oh, you know what I 
 mean, I mean I was thinking that I never 
 should have imagined that there could be so 
 much fun in such a simple little pleasure." 
 
 " I know how you feel," said Polly, with 
 that ready sympathy which was one of her 
 charms. " Sometimes it seems as though 
 having everything you wanted was the only 
 thing that could make you happy, and then 
 suddenly you find that that hasn't anything 
 to do with it. Let's form a society for the 
 promotion of simple pleasures for simple 
 minds," she added, for she never could be 
 serious for long. " And now for the hot 
 chocolate, with big fat marshmallows to put 
 in it."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 "THAT BABY is ME!" 
 
 " I'M sorry, Polly, but I'll have to skip 
 now," said Esther as the girls finished their 
 hot chocolate. " I promised Mother that I'd 
 go around to Grandmother's while I'm here 
 in town. Good-bye, Margery. Good-bye, 
 Polly ; I've had a perfect time." 
 
 "Oh, Polly!" exclaimed Mrs. Jameson, 
 coming to the dining-room door as Esther 
 left. " What do you suppose ! I promised 
 Aunt Helen don't you remember ? to take 
 her some partridge berries for her ' shut-ins ' 
 when I go up to the city to-morrow, and I 
 forgot all about it until just this minute ! " 
 
 " Can't you send William out to the woods 
 for some ? " 
 
 " William is driving the car for your father 
 this afternoon. Do you think anybody in' 
 town here would have any to sell?" 
 
 " I'm sure nobody has. But Margery and 
 I can go and pick you some." 
 
 288
 
 "THAT BABT IS ME!" 289 
 
 "Oh, do you think you can, Polly dear? 
 And what about Margery does she have to 
 go right back to the farm ? " 
 
 " I can go with Polly, Mrs. Jameson," Mar- 
 gery said. " I don't have to go right home, 
 for Deborah is practically well now, she's up 
 and around the house, at any rate. She had 
 a pretty sharp attack of rheumatism, but it 
 didn't last long, fortunately." 
 
 " Oh, that's fine, dear. Well, suppose you 
 girls go right off then. Aunt Helen is quite 
 old now, and I do hate to disappoint her in 
 anything." 
 
 As the girls were climbing into the brake- 
 cart, Mrs. Jameson came flying out of the 
 house. 
 
 " Where are you going for the berries, 
 Polly?" 
 
 " To that little strip of woods over on 
 the pike, that's where the best berries 
 grow." 
 
 " I thought that you would go there. 
 Won't you, while you're so near to Mr. 
 Morris's, just pop over and leave this little 
 bottle of elderberry wine ? The other bottle 
 I sent was such a tiny one, and the nurse
 
 290 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 seemed so pleased with it, when she tele- 
 phoned to thank me, that I thought I would 
 send some more. And while you are there, 
 Polly, I wish you would just ask to see the 
 nurse, and find out from her how Mr. Morris 
 is doing now. It doesn't seem kind not to 
 inquire, and yet I hate to telephone too 
 often. The ringing of a telephone bell is so 
 annoying when one is ill I Don't stay late, 
 remember, dear! " 
 
 Polly gathered up the reins and Spy moved 
 off. Laughing and chattering, the two girls 
 drove through the quiet old streets, already 
 grown so familiar to Margery, to the broad 
 white turnpike, and out to the little strip of 
 pine and oak trees where grew, in Polly's 
 estimation, the most brilliant and waxy- 
 leaved partridge berries. 
 
 The woods proved to be a treasure house ; 
 not only did they find the partridge berries, 
 but here and there some especially brilliant 
 spray of gorgeous oak leaves that must be 
 gathered and piled into the carriage to be 
 taken home. So long, in spite of Mrs. Jame- 
 son's warning, did they linger that it was far 
 into the afternoon before they reached the
 
 "THAT BABT IS ME!" 291 
 
 wide steps that led up to Mr. Morris's front 
 door. 
 
 " We will just ask to see the nurse for a 
 minute," Polly explained in a low voice, as 
 she lifted the heavy brass knocker and let it 
 fall. 
 
 There was silence. " Perhaps you had 
 better knock again, you did it so very 
 gently," Margery was suggesting, when the 
 door was partly opened by a rosy-cheeked, 
 red-haired Irish lass who stood barring the 
 way. 
 
 " Good-afternoon, may I see the nurse, 
 please ? " 
 
 " Sure. Yes'm, I mean." 
 
 " Well, will you tell her that Miss Jameson 
 would like to speak to her. I'll only keep 
 her a few minutes." 
 
 " Sure. Yes'm, I mean. Come in. Oh, 
 begorry ! I forgot ! " The maid dived into 
 the shadowy depths of the hall, to return with 
 a silver plate, which she thrust under Polly's 
 nose. " Put yer tacket there," she com- 
 manded. 
 
 " Tacket ? " Polly was puzzled. 
 
 " Yes, yer tacket."
 
 292 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 "What do you mean by my tacket? I 
 don't understand." 
 
 " A tacket ? Why, they takes them up on 
 the railway cars." 
 
 "Oh! A ticket! Why, I haven't any 
 ticket." 
 
 " Well, thin, yez can't come in." 
 
 The girls stared at her in bewilderment. 
 They had had but little experience in calling 
 at houses where there was illness, and won- 
 dered if it was customary to admit only those 
 who had tickets. 
 
 " Well " began Polly, doubtfully. 
 
 " What do the ladies wish ? " asked a voice 
 within the hall, and another maid in neat 
 cap and apron appeared at the door. 
 
 Polly explained, and the maid reproved the 
 first with a sharp dig of her elbow. " Let the 
 young ladies in," she whispered, " ye dumb 
 thing, yez. If yez ladies will step in," she 
 added to Polly and Margery, " very soft-like, 
 I'll git the nurse for yez. That girl's so new 
 and green, and so dumb," she explained as 
 she ushered the visitors across a wide, stately 
 hall, " that ye nivir know what she'll do next. 
 I've been trying to teach her about taking
 
 "THAT BABT IS ME/" 293 
 
 folks' cards on a tray when they come to call, 
 but she is so green she keeps callin' the 
 cards ' tackets,' and I doubt if she ivir learns." 
 
 Hysterical with giggles, which the solemn 
 atmosphere of the place rather augmented 
 than subdued, Polly and Margery tiptoed 
 across the slippery floor, and were shown into 
 the library which occupied the whole ground 
 floor of the left wing of the house. 
 
 " If yez young ladies will just wait here, I'll 
 send Miss Tucker, that's the day nurse, to yez 
 as soon as I can. The doctor is here now, and 
 yez may have a bit of a wait," and switching 
 on the lights, the maid went out and closed 
 the door after her. 
 
 Polly flung herself on a divan, and buried 
 her head in a sofa pillow. "Oh, my dear," 
 she laughed, " I shall never forget your face as 
 long as I live. ' Put yer tacket there.' Oh, 
 Margery, we must stop snickering, it would 
 be awful if the nurse came in and found us 
 carrying on like this ! I'm going to give you 
 a package of ' tackets ' for a Christmas present. 
 Margery, you must stop laughing," and Polly 
 sat up very straight and tried to look grim. 
 
 But Margery, doubled up in a big chair that
 
 294 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 threatened to engulf her, could not subdue 
 the giggles with which she was afflicted. " I 
 can't stop," she gasped. " It wouldn't be so 
 funny if everything wasn't so still and 
 solemn ! Oh, do go away, and don't talk 
 to me or I shall die ! " 
 
 " All right ; but you must behave," Polly 
 scolded, then giggled weakly, herself. " I'll 
 look around the room. It's beautiful, isn't 
 it?" 
 
 It was a beautiful room, one that showed it 
 belonged to a man of taste, as well as a scholar 
 and a traveler. Low bookcases of some rich 
 dark wood, filled with well-used books, were 
 built in everywhere one could possibly be 
 fitted, and on their tops stood rare pottery 
 and brasses brought from all over the world. 
 At each end of the long room were great fire- 
 places, and before them, drawn up cozily, 
 were divans and easy chairs that invited 
 one to stay forever. Long windows on three 
 sides of the room opened out on a brick ter- 
 race, and gave vistas of the old-fashioned, box- 
 bordered garden, and beyond the garden, the 
 woods and meadows, and the winding creek. 
 
 The books drew Polly like a bee to clover.
 
 "THAT BABT IS ME!'' 295 
 
 " Look, Margery," she demanded in a shrill 
 whisper, " look at this lovely set of Dickens, 
 and look, here are all of Stevenson's. In 
 a perfectly scrumptious edition, too. Don't 
 you adore Stevenson ? Which one of his 
 characters is your favorite ? " Polly didn't 
 wait for an answer, which was just as well, 
 as Margery would have been unable, to give 
 one. " Mine's Alan Breck. I'm crazy about 
 the way he says ' I'm no so verra bonnie, but 
 I'm leal to them I lo'e.' I wanted to take 
 that for my motto, and have it stamped 
 under my monogram on my correspondence 
 paper, but Mother said ' Nay.' That's the 
 way she always does put a quietus on all my 
 brilliant schemes. Tragic, isn't it ? Oh, look 
 at this wonderful carved frame I Father says 
 Mr. Morris is a great something or other, 
 oh, yes, a great connoisseur." 
 
 Margery looked about her with satisfaction. 
 She liked the rich, soft rugs and the great, 
 easy chairs ; the pots of gay chrysanthemums 
 brightening the dark corners. Her luxury- 
 loving soul felt more at home here than at 
 the farm, with its old-fashioned, almost aus- 
 tere simplicity.
 
 296 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " Margery," Polly called softly, " do come 
 here." 
 
 Rising, Margery tiptoed to the other end of 
 the room, where Polly stood beside a small 
 table. 
 
 "Just look at these photographs," Polly 
 commanded. " Isn't that woman the prettiest 
 thing?" pointing to a small framed photo- 
 graph standing on the table. " That's exactly 
 the way you will look when you grow up. 
 That is, if you're a good little girl, and always 
 eat up all the crusts of your bread, and fold 
 your clothes up neatly every night, and don't 
 1 sass ' your dear friend Polly, and so forth, 
 and so forth. This must be Mr. Morris's 
 son ; it looks so much like him. And did 
 you ever see such a funny fat baby ? Why, 
 what's the matter? " 
 
 Wide-eyed, Margery was staring at the pho- 
 tographs. " Polly," she gasped, " that's Papa 
 and Mamma, and that baby is me / " 
 
 " Good lackaday ! " cried Polly, and col- 
 lapsed into the nearest chair.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 " WHOO ? WHOO ? " 
 
 " HUSH, there's somebody 1 " There were 
 footsteps and the sound of voices in the hall 
 outside, and Margery listened anxiously. 
 She did not feel like seeing anybody just 
 then. The footsteps stopped outside the li- 
 brary door, and a low, murmured conversa- 
 tion followed. The voices died away, and 
 Margery turned back to the photographs. 
 
 " Polly, there's something queer," she qua- 
 vered. 
 
 " But are you sure they are photographs 
 of your father and mother?" 
 
 " Of course I know they are Papa and 
 Mamma. Besides, oh, Polly, just look at 
 this I " and Margery thrust a small kodak 
 picture she had taken from the mantelpiece 
 into Polly's hand. It was a snap shot of a 
 young girl, her face so deeply shaded by a 
 wide hat that the features were a blur. 
 
 297
 
 298 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " That's me ! " she exclaimed more vehe- 
 mently than grammatically. 
 
 Polly looked rather dubious, and Margery 
 impatiently turned the picture over. On the 
 back was written in Margery's thick and 
 schoolgirlish hand : 
 
 " Dear Grandpapa : I am sending this in- 
 stead of a letter, will write when I can find 
 time. I am having a perfect time. Love, 
 Margery." 
 
 " Oh," said Polly blankly. 
 
 " That explains everything." 
 
 " Everything ? " 
 
 " Dick. And not knowing about him. 
 And everything being different from what I 
 expected. Oh, everything that puzzled me." 
 
 Practical, quick-minded Polly considered 
 the question. " Do you mean, Margery, that 
 you think your grandfather isn't your grand- 
 father, and that Mr. Morris is ? " 
 
 " Yes, I don't belong at the farm at all." 
 
 " But, Margery, I should have thought that 
 you would have had sense enough to know 
 when you first got to the farm that you didn't 
 belong there ! It seems awfully queer I " 
 
 Margery hung her head and twisted her
 
 "WHOO? WHOQ2" 299 
 
 ring nervously around her finger. " Well, 
 you see, Polly," she explained, " I suppose 
 the real reason why I was so awfully stupid 
 was that for years and years Papa and Mamma 
 have talked and talked about Grandpapa and 
 Renwyck's Town, and made plans and made 
 plans to come on (and then something hap- 
 pening, like business or Papa's having ap- 
 pendicitis, to prevent it) so that I just got 
 dead tired and sick of the very sound of 
 Renwyck's Town. And I never listened to 
 anything they said about Grandpapa's place 
 if I could help it, so that really /didn't know 
 what kind of a place to expect. It seemed 
 all right on the surface, both places are in 
 Renwyck's Town, and belong to Mr. Henry 
 Morrises. I bet you'd have done the same 
 thing." 
 
 Polly ignored the last part of Margery's 
 speech, merely remarking sympathetically, 
 " I know how you felt about Renwyck's 
 Town. Katie Van Loon's father comes from 
 Holland, and Katie says she is so tired of 
 hearing about what a wonderful place Hol- 
 land is, and what models the girls there are, 
 that she wishes all the dykes would burst
 
 3 oo MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 and the whole of Holland would disappear 
 under the sea, and that nobody would ever 
 have to hear of it again." 
 
 " And then Mamma was so awfully opti- 
 mistic about how I was going to love it at 
 Renwyck's Town, when I knew that I 
 shouldn't, that it was rather satisfactory to 
 have everything at the farm plain, and lonely, 
 and Grandpapa away. Mamma's so awfully 
 cheerful that it makes you go the other way 
 sometimes." 
 
 Polly dug down among her fund of literary 
 references. " Yes," she said, sagely, " some- 
 body said that a ' pessimist is a person who 
 lives with an optimist.' ' 
 
 Both girls giggled. 
 
 " You mustn't think, Polly, that Mamma 
 isn't nice. She's lovely. Lots prettier than 
 this picture, and awfully young-looking and 
 girlish. I guess I'm just an old grouch," and 
 Margery regarded the photograph of her irre- 
 pressibly enthusiastic parent with tear-dimmed 
 eyes. " And I suppose, too, that part of the 
 trouble was," and Margery held up her head 
 and faced the truth bravely, " that I was so 
 blue and cross over not being allowed to stay
 
 "WHOO? WHOO?" 301 
 
 with Marie Smythe that I was just anxious to 
 have everything horrid, so well, so that I 
 could say ' I told you so.' ' 
 
 Polly grinned. " It is nice to be a martyr 
 sometimes, isn't it? Just the way Missouri, 
 that's our old colored cook, is so tickled if 
 she can only get a ' misery ' in her * haid ' 
 after we've had extra company." 
 
 " What puzzles me," remarked Margery, 
 paying no attention to this flattering resem- 
 blance, " is how they got my telegram to 
 Grandpapa out at the farm." 
 
 " That doesn't mean anything one way or 
 the other. Both your grandfathers, oh, dear, 
 this is the most mixed-up thing, both Mr. 
 Morrises, I should say, are named Henry. 
 And it's no new thing in Renwyck's Town 
 for the Morrises to get their mail and pack- 
 ages mixed up. That's the worst of most of 
 the population of a town having the same 
 name. Jim Bancroft sent Sally Morris the 
 silliest love-letter, and old Miss Sarah Morris 
 got it. Miss Sarah thought Jim was making 
 fun of her, and there was an awful to-do over 
 it. It was awfully mortifying for Jim and 
 Sally. Then that girl at the telegraph office
 
 302 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 is going to be married next month, and she is 
 so taken up with the monograms she is em- 
 broidering on her table-cloths that she doesn't 
 know whether she is going or coming. The 
 telegram doesn't mean anything, but what 
 does puzzle me is : if you were due here why 
 haven't they been out searching the country 
 for you ? What was it you said about coming 
 earlier than you expected ? " 
 
 As briefly as she could Margery rehearsed 
 the story of her unexpectedly early trip to 
 Renwyck's Town and the reasons for it. " Oh," 
 Polly nodded. " Yes, I think I see. Won't 
 they be thrilled here when you tell them ! I 
 
 know I'll Here comes somebody, I 
 
 think it's the nurse." 
 
 The door opened, and a young woman in a 
 stiffly starched nurse's uniform rustled in. 
 
 " You wished to see me? " she inquired in a 
 manner as stiffly starched as her apron. " I 
 am sorry to have kept you waiting, but just as 
 the doctor came down-stairs and was leaving 
 he remembered something that he wanted to 
 tell me. What is it I can do for you ? " 
 
 With proper humbleness, Polly produced 
 the elderberry wine and stated her errand.
 
 "WHOO? WHOO?" 303 
 
 " Oh, thank you, you can tell your mother 
 that Mr. Morris is better. All that he needs 
 now is absolute quiet and careful nursing." 
 
 Polly looked at Margery, gave an embar- 
 rassed little laugh, then plunged in. " Does 
 his family know of his illness ? " 
 
 " No. We sent for his son the week before 
 last, but they telegraphed back from his office 
 that young Mr. Morris had left for Japan a 
 few days before. Mr. Morris was out of dan- 
 ger, anyway, before his son could have reached 
 here." 
 
 Margery and Polly exchanged another 
 glance. Polly took a long breath, and an- 
 nounced, " This is Miss Margaret Morris, Mr. 
 Morris's granddaughter." 
 
 The nurse looked puzzled. " Oh, I hadn't 
 known that any of his family were here," she 
 said, but her profession had given her too 
 many glimpses of family unhappinesses to al- 
 low her to make any further comment. 
 
 " Margery was to have stayed here, but 
 through some mistake she got into the wrong 
 house er that is well, anyway," Polly 
 stumbled on, " we think she did." 
 
 The nurse raised her pretty eyebrows toward
 
 304 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 the border of her stiff white cap. " I'm afraid 
 I don't quite understand." 
 
 Margery joined in the conversation for the 
 first time. " There is really nothing to un- 
 derstand," she said authoritatively. " I came 
 to Renwyck's Town unexpectedly. They met 
 me from another Mr. Henry Morris's and I 
 thought that I belonged there until I came 
 here to-day, and I saw these pictures, these 
 are my father and mother, and these two are 
 me." 
 
 The nurse took the photographs, and looked 
 from the fat baby to Margery, then back again 
 to the pictured young lady with the big hat 
 and the blurred face. " They don't look much 
 like you," she remarked with a faint smile. 
 
 Again Polly and Margery exchanged 
 glances ; things did not seem to be going very 
 well. "Wasn't Miss Morris expected here ?" 
 asked Polly, surprised. 
 
 " Of course I was, Polly," Margery put in. 
 " Papa wrote that I was coming and they are 
 expecting me." 
 
 The nurse glanced from Polly's puzzled face 
 to Margery's evidently annoyed one, and her 
 manner grew less detached. " I think if you
 
 "WHOO? WHOOr 305 
 
 will repeat what you have just told me that I 
 may be able to understand better, you see, 
 nobody has mentioned your coming to me." 
 
 " Tell her all about the way you happened 
 to come on early," suggested Polly. 
 
 Again Margery rehearsed the story of her 
 trip, bravely including Marie Smythe, and her 
 own sulkiness and glory in martyrdom. As 
 she finished the nurse stood up. " If you will 
 excuse me, I'll take a look at my patient. 
 And then I'll speak to Kiley, the cook, she 
 seems to know all the household affairs. 
 Nothing has been said to me since I've been 
 here about Mr. Morris's expecting a grand- 
 daughter to visit him, but I've been on the 
 case only a week. Miss Betz, who is the night 
 nurse now, had the case altogether at first. 
 She is taking her rest now, and I can't dis- 
 turb her to ask her questions, but I'll speak to 
 old Kiley." 
 
 Left alone, the girls again found relief to 
 their emotions in a fit of the giggles. " Cheer 
 up," comforted Polly with a snicker ; " the 
 worst is yet to come." 
 
 " Of course Kiley will know that I'm ex- 
 pected here," answered Margery confidently.
 
 306 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 11 But I've such a funny Alice-in- Wonderland 
 sort of feeling ! " 
 
 " ' He sent them word I had not gone 
 We know it to be true : 
 If she should push the matter on, 
 What would become of you ? ' " 
 
 quoted Polly from her favorite " Alice." 
 " Are you sure that Kiley will know you're 
 expected ? " 
 
 " Certainly." 
 
 A voice grew near the library door, a loud 
 Irish voice that was being vainly urged to 
 " Ssh ! Ssh I " by the nurse. " Don't ye be 
 afther believin' a worrd of it, Miss Tucker, 
 darlint. It's some mischief of that Polly 
 Jameson's, a greater rascal than her nivir 
 walked. Don't ye be lettin' her make a fool 
 of ye now ! " 
 
 " Ssh, ssh. Here, girls, this is Kiley. She 
 will be able to tell you something about Mr. 
 Morris's granddaughter." 
 
 A little, bent old Irish woman with snap- 
 ping black eyes stood in the doorway, sniffing 
 contemptuously. " Is it yez that would be 
 passin' yersilf off as Mr. Morris's grand- 
 daughter ? " she demanded of Polly ^
 
 "WHOO? WHOO?" 307 
 
 " No, / am Mr. Morris's granddaughter," 
 answered Margery. 
 
 The old woman turned on her. " Sure, 
 an' Mr. Morris's granddaughter isn't expected 
 until January ! An' it's not this way she'll 
 be comin' in the back-door like, but with 
 her maid, an' at the proper time, like an 
 iligint young lady should. An' it's not like 
 yez she'll be lookin'," with a scornful glance 
 at Margery's tweed sports coat, dusty and 
 well covered with burrs and bits of dried 
 "leaves from the woods, and at the simple 
 cloth tam-o'-shanter pulled down over her 
 disheveled hair. " Miss Morris is a pretty 
 young lady, there's a picture of her in Mr. 
 Morris's bedroom, taken in an iligint white 
 dress, that thick with lace ! Think shame of 
 yersilf fer wantin' to deceive a poor, sick 
 gintleman, and passin' yersilf off as his grand- 
 daughter. Oh, I tell ye, Miss Tucker," turn- 
 ing to the nurse with flashing eyes, "the rich 
 has their troubles the same as the poor. The 
 way people try to take advantage of Mr. 
 Morris because he is rich, an' a kinder man 
 nivir walked, is enough to make ye sick ! " 
 
 Margery sat stunned by this tirade. " You
 
 308 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 impertinent old woman," she cried at last, 
 " how dare you speak to me like this ? " 
 
 " How ' dare ' I, ye sez ? How ' dare ' I ? 
 Sure, if Mr. Morris was well ye wouldn't be 
 ' darin' ' ter talk ter me like that ! ' Imperti- 
 nent old woman ! ' Indade ! I bid yez good- 
 afternoon, young ladies ! Young ladies f An' 
 you, Miss Polly Jameson, think shame on 
 yersilf fer the socoiety yer in." 
 
 The indignant old woman flounced out of 
 the room, and Polly and Miss Tucker began 
 to laugh. 
 
 Margery burst into tears. " I think you're 
 c-cruel to laugh. You wouldn't laugh, if 
 your father and mother w-were on the way to 
 Japan, and your grandfathers were away or 
 sick, you didn't know which, and you 
 didn't know where you be-be-be-longed ! " 
 Her voice breaking into a mournful howl, 
 she threw herself back in her chair arid 
 buried her face in her hands. 
 
 " Oh, Margery, I'm sorry, I'm awfully 
 sorry ! But cheer up ! It will be all right 
 indeed it will perhaps you belong at the 
 farm, after all. Perhaps Mr. Morris just hap- 
 pened to have your pictures. Perhaps your
 
 "WHOO? WHOO?" 309 
 
 grandfather just happened to bring the pic- 
 tures over here. ' See what a fine family I 
 have,' he would say, ' and that blessed little 
 girl is coming to visit me this winter.' And 
 then he'd get so interested talking horses with 
 Mr. Morris that he'd go off and forget the 
 pictures. That's the sort of thing Father is 
 always doing." 
 
 " I don't care where I belong, I wish I 
 were dead I I knew something like this would 
 happen if I had to come to old Renwyck's 
 Town!" 
 
 The nurse's sympathy took a practical form. 
 She hurried out of the room to procure a bottle 
 of aromatic spirits of ammonia, and a small 
 glass of ice-water. " Here, child, don't go on 
 like that," she commanded, as she poured 
 some of the ammonia into the water. "Sit 
 up, now, and drink this. This will make you 
 feel better. That's right," as Margery choked 
 down the soapy mixture ; " drink it all, 
 never mind if you don't like the taste. Now, 
 I'm going to wash off the tear-stains with 
 this," and she saturated a handkerchief with 
 lavender water. " There, doesn't that feel 
 cooling ? Now, I'm going to send you off,
 
 310 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 I can't have all this excitement in the house. 
 My patient may feel it in some way or other, 
 it's wonderful how sick people seem to sense 
 anything that's out of the way. But I think 
 that you had better go right to Dr. Huston 
 with the matter. If there has been any mis- 
 take he will be able to unravel the trouble. 
 I cannot take any responsibility, of course. 
 And Mr. Morris is too weak to be asked any 
 questions as yet. But there is a pile of letters 
 on the table in his dressing-room which 
 haven't been opened, I believe they came 
 just about the time he was taken ill. They 
 may have some bearing on the matter, at 
 any rate, I think the doctor will know what 
 to do. Now, please go out quietly." 
 
 "Gracious, isn't it dark?" Polly cried, as 
 she unhitched Spy and climbed into the cart 
 after Margery. " We will have to hurry back 
 as fast as we can, Mother worries so about 
 me when I am out after dark ; especially if 
 she knows I have gone out into the country. 
 I'll go to the doctor's with you though, but 
 we will have to stop at home for a minute 
 while I explain. It's too bad the doctor left 
 there before we saw Miss Tucker, wasn't it?
 
 "WHOO? WHOOV* 311 
 
 I didn't see his carriage, did you ? He must 
 have gone in by the side drive, and hitched 
 his horse by the side-door. I guess that it 
 was his voice we heard." 
 
 " Yes, I suppose so," said Margery listlessly, 
 choking back a sob. " I'm afraid that Deb- 
 orah will be worried, Polly. May I telephone 
 her from your house ? " she asked, with a new 
 thoughtfulness. 
 
 " Yes, I'll 'phone her that you will be a 
 little late. Hurry, Spy I There's a bag of 
 oats, and a warm stable waiting for you." 
 
 It was getting toward six o'clock, and the 
 cloudy autumnal evening was dark and chilly. 
 Shivering with cold and nervousness, Margery 
 turned up her coat collar, and plunged her 
 hands deep into her pockets. The tall bushes 
 along the roadside, ghostly in the twilight, 
 seemed to point mocking fingers at her, as if 
 to say, " Who are you ? And where do you 
 belong? Nobody wants you ! " 
 
 Her head ached from crying ; she was 
 tired and hungry ; above all, she felt miserably 
 alone and forsaken. Suppose that they should 
 decide at the farm that she did not belong 
 there, she remembered, now, how bewildered
 
 312 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 Dick had been over her arrival. And sup- 
 pose, on the other hand, that they would not 
 acknowledge her at the house she had just 
 left, what should she do ? She seemed to be 
 in some ghastly nightmare, wherein she wan- 
 dered from door to door, vainly asking, "Who 
 ami? Who am I?" 
 
 As though in answer to her thoughts an 
 owl, hidden in the strip of woodland they 
 were passing, dark and gloomy now in the 
 dusk, hooted, " Whoo ? Whoo ? " 
 
 Margery clutched Polly in terror. 
 
 Polly laughed. " Cheer up, Margie, it's 
 only an owl. We'll be out of these old woods 
 in a minute, there ! See the lights in the 
 clock-tower in the town hall. I've been 
 thinking, Margery, that's the reason I was 
 so miraculously silent. It's going to be all 
 right about you, either you belong at the 
 farm, or you don't, and it's going to be all 
 right either way. What that nurse and old 
 Kiley said doesn't count. They don't know 
 anything about it, anyway. But a mystery 
 is a bother, so we'll stop at the doctor's and 
 see if he knows anything. I hope he's back 
 by this time. It certainly is funny that you
 
 "WHOO? WHO?" 313 
 
 didn't see any of your photographs at the 
 farm, and they seemed so vague about you. 
 You dear little goose, not to smell a mouse 
 long before this. But buck up ! Be a man. 
 It will come out all right, anyway. And," 
 Polly hesitated ; she had all the horror which 
 healthy-minded young people feel at appear- 
 ing to preach, "and," she went on, rather 
 haltingly, " remember : 
 
 " * Two things stand like stone : 
 
 Kindness in your neighbor's trouble, 
 And courage in your own. 1 " 
 
 Margery was thoughtfully silent. " I sup- 
 pose," she said at last, " that it would be 
 easier if I had had some little troubles to 
 practice on. I wish I had been braver about 
 the Marie Smythe one." 
 
 " If you hadn't wilted so over the little 
 one," Polly remarked sagely, " you probably 
 would never have had this big trouble, for 
 you would have been keener, and kept your 
 wits about you, and so you would have known 
 right away whether or not you had landed in 
 the right spot. So take this trouble like a 
 good sport, so that you won't get into any 
 worse one. Here we are at the house, -just
 
 314 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 hold the reins while I run in and tell Mother 
 that I'm going to the doctor's." 
 
 The Jamesons lived in an old-fashioned 
 house that appeared to be rather below than 
 above the level of the pavement. Seen from 
 the street it looked small and cramped, but 
 once inside its narrow front door, the visitor 
 was amazed at the size and number of the 
 rooms that seemed to stretch endlessly back 
 to the large box-bordered garden in the rear. 
 This evening the shades had been left up, and 
 from the carriage Margery could see into the 
 charming living-room, homelike with books 
 and flowers and open fire. She could see 
 Polly rush into the arms of plump, motherly 
 Mrs. Jameson. 
 
 Sitting there outside, cold, and tired, and 
 homesick, Margery realized, as she had never 
 done before in all her pampered, shielded 
 little life, what home, and father and mother 
 love, are ; how tenderly they love and com- 
 fort, how unselfishly they protect. 
 
 A great tear rolled down beside her nose ; 
 a blessed tear, that washed away much ingrat- 
 itude and selfishness. 
 
 The Jamesons' front door closed with a
 
 "WHOO? WHOO?" 315 
 
 bang that must have rocked the very roof, 
 and Polly came flying across the pavement. 
 " Hurrah," she cried, as Margery handed her 
 the reins ; " now for the doctor's. I didn't 
 have time to explain, and poor Mother thinks 
 I have surely gone crazy this time, she's 
 always expecting it to come some day. I 
 'phoned to Deborah that you would be a little 
 late, but that we would see that you got 
 home all right, William can take you out 
 in the car. Oh, Margie, this reminds me of 
 your old Scotchman, ' Ah, what a day this 
 nicht ! ' Here's the doctor's house. Now, be 
 a good little girl, and say the pretty verse 
 kind Polly taught you. Come on. Pipe up." 
 
 " 'Two things stand like stone : 
 
 Kindness in your neighbor's trouble, 
 Courage in your own,' " 
 
 they chanted in chorus, and then because 
 they were young and healthy, and life so 
 far had dealt gently with them, they rang 
 the doctor's front door-bell, as hilarious a 
 pair as though there were no such things as 
 perplexities or grandfathers.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 MARGERY AND POLLY DINE WITH THE DOCTOR 
 
 " WELL, Polly, what is it now ? Another 
 boil on your nose, or has that tongue of yours 
 gotten you into a scrape at school, and you 
 want me to cut off a piece of it? Nothing 
 wrong at the farm, is there, Margery ? No ? 
 That's good I I'm glad to see Miss Deborah 
 so much better. Sit down, girls, and tell the 
 old doctor about it." 
 
 The doctor took off his spectacles, and 
 beamed at the girls as cordially as though 
 they were not interrupting his precious hour 
 before dinner, the one time of the day he 
 could claim for himself, and the thought of 
 which had been his solace through a long and 
 particularly busy day. 
 
 Polly and Margery sat down, and glanced 
 about the shabby, cozy back office as though 
 they were seeking inspiration in the framed 
 
 316
 
 MARGERT AND POLLY DINE 317 
 
 diploma from a medical school hanging over 
 the doctor's desk, or in the china vase in the 
 shape of a grinning skull, the gift of some 
 grateful patient, which stood on the mantel- 
 piece. The doctor watched them with amuse- 
 ment. 
 
 " Well, Polly," he prompted at length, 
 " what's the matter, is it too dreadful to 
 tell?" 
 
 " Doctor," Polly fired off like a firecracker, 
 " is Mr. Morris at the White House farm ex- 
 pecting a granddaughter to visit him ? " 
 
 "No." 
 
 " Oh ! " exclaimed Polly. 
 
 " Oh," wailed Margery. 
 
 "Wait a minute, let me think. Why, 
 yes, it does seem to me that he said some- 
 thing to me about his son's daughter coming 
 on some time during the winter. Yes, now 
 that I come to think of it, I do remember ; he 
 was expecting the girl in January. I'd for- 
 gotten about that. When I telegraphed for 
 Henry week before last, they sent back word 
 from his office that he and his wife had just 
 left for Japan. However, they may not have 
 taken the girl with them."
 
 3 i8 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 11 Was Mr. Henry Morris, out Williamsburg 
 way, expecting a granddaughter to visit him?" 
 
 " Why, I suppose so, seeing that Margery 
 is here. Deborah Davis gave me to under- 
 stand that she is Henry Morris's grand- 
 daughter. To tell the truth," he added 
 rather stiffly, " I have not seen much of 
 Henry lately. We er we disagreed on the 
 question on the boundary fence of my sister 
 Martha's field. That grandson of his is a 
 fine fellow. I hope that Henry doesn't spoil 
 him by pulling the reins too tight. But why 
 do you ask these questions, Miss Sherlock 
 Holmes? Looking for lost jewels ?" 
 
 " I'm afraid that I'm the lost jewel," put 
 in Margery. 
 
 "Eh?" 
 
 " It's this way, doctor," began Polly. She 
 paused and raised her eyebrows at Margery, 
 who nodded back. Permission gained, Polly 
 plunged headlong into the tale of Margery's 
 adventures. First, she began at the end, and 
 told the story of old Kiley and her suspicions ; 
 then she skipped to the beginning, and re- 
 counted Margery's arrival at Renwyck's 
 Town, and Dick's meeting her; after that
 
 MARGERT AND POLLY DINE 319 
 
 she made a few side excursions up the by- 
 paths of Margery's surprise at finding Dick 
 and Benjamin at the farm, and of her par- 
 ents' hasty departure to Japan ; and through 
 it all she dwelt on Margery's yearning to 
 spend the winter with Marie Smythe. Far 
 more, indeed, than Margery considered need- 
 ful. 
 
 As Polly finished her breathless recitation, 
 Dr. Huston closed the book in which he had 
 been hopefully keeping his finger to mark the 
 place, and threw it on the table. " Hhmmm," 
 he mused aloud, " I believe that perhaps I'd 
 understand better if the other little lady were 
 to tell the story. I don't imagine I got that 
 part straight about old Kiley, as far as I 
 could understand from Polly's story, Kiley 
 said that she was Dick's grandfather's grand- 
 father 1 " 
 
 Margery laughed at the doctor's little joke, 
 and feeling less nervous, told her part of the 
 story simply and quietly. The doctor lis- 
 tened intently, evidently much interested, al- 
 though he made no comments, and asked no 
 questions. 
 
 " First of all," he remarked, as she finished,
 
 320 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 " I think that I had better keep you girls to 
 dinner with me, if you think that you can 
 stand an old bachelor's housekeeping. It 
 will take my poor old brains some time to 
 get this Mary Smith business, that Polly talks 
 about, and all the rest of it, straightened out. 
 I'll 'phone to your mother, Polly." He pulled 
 the desk 'phone toward him. " And I had 
 better 'phone out to your house, Margery. 
 We mustn't let MisjS Deborah be worried, you 
 know ! Hello, central, 36 W. Hello, Mary 
 Jameson ? This is Dr. Huston speaking. 
 . . . Well, Mary, I'm going to keep 
 your girl for dinner. . . . What's that ? 
 Speak a little louder, please. Remember I 
 don't hear as well as I used to. ... Oh, 
 I didn't mean to make you have to shout. 
 Oh, no, there's nothing wrong. Merely 
 something I want Polly to do for me. Bet- 
 ter send William after her horse. I'll get her 
 home myself by bedtime. . . . Hasn't 
 done her lessons yet? The rascal! Well, 
 good-bye." 
 
 The doctor hung up the receiver, and 
 turned to Polly with a chuckle. " I was so 
 strict with your mother when she was ten
 
 MARGERT AND POLLY DINE 321 
 
 years old, and I brought her through the mea- 
 sles, that she is afraid of me yet. Suppose 
 that you do your 'phoning, Margery, while I 
 see that Lydia counts your noses in when 
 she boils the potatoes," and the doctor hur- 
 ried off to attend to his housekeeping. 
 
 "What do you think he thinks?" Mar- 
 gery asked in a shrill whisper. 
 
 Polly shook her head. " Can't tell." 
 
 Whatever the doctor thought he did not 
 divulge it while they were at the table, but 
 kept up a constant run of jokes with Polly. 
 He was full, too, of questions about Margery's 
 life at home, in which he appeared to be 
 much interested. Margery's thoughts had 
 been so limited to herself, and the doings 
 and sayings of her own particular little cir- 
 cle, and of late to Marie Smythe that she 
 was not usually an interesting, much less 
 brilliant conversationalist ; but to-night, un- 
 der the doctor's skilful prompting, she man- 
 aged to shine. 
 
 " That's awfully interesting ! I wish that 
 I could talk like that," cried generous Polly, 
 as Margery finished a description of the old 
 Spanish mission at Santa Barbara, and its
 
 322 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 walled garden, forever closed to the foot of 
 woman. 
 
 "Oh, it's a wonderful land, California," 
 sighed the doctor. " It's been thirty years 
 since I visited there. I'd give the rest of my 
 hair, don't you laugh, Polly ; there are balder 
 men than I am, though not many, I admit, 
 if I could go back there. 
 
 " Well, well ! Now I'll have to leave you 
 girls to finish your pie while I go and take a 
 look at the patients that are waiting in the 
 office. As soon as they go, we will drive out 
 to the White House farm and take a look at 
 those letters. I think that under the circum- 
 stances that is what Mr. Morris would wish 
 me to do. I can explain to him that there 
 are some important matters in his correspond- 
 ence that I had better look into, and ask for 
 his permission to open the letters, without 
 having to go into particulars and exciting him. 
 We have to be very careful not to excite him. 
 But I think that I can manage tactfully ; and 
 that would straighten matters out once for 
 all." 
 
 The door closed after the doctor. 
 
 "Oh, Polly, isn't it awful?" sighed Mar-
 
 MARGERT AND POLLY DINE 323 
 
 gery, as she finished her piece of pumpkin pie. 
 " I feel the most awful cloud hanging over 
 me." 
 
 Polly thoughtfully made an end to the last 
 crumb of her second piece of pie. " Yes, of 
 course you do, you poor dear," she said sym- 
 pathetically. " I don't feel, myself, like eat- 
 ing, even, or doing anything but thinking 
 about your adventures. It really is terribly 
 romantic, though, Margie, if you just stop 
 to think about it." 
 
 Margery mournfully regarded the little 
 bunch of red and yellow button-chrysanthe- 
 mums in the center of the table. " I suppose 
 it is," she sighed. 
 
 " Are you ready, girls ? " The doctor stuck 
 his head in at the dining-room door. " There 
 weren't many patients, fortunately, to-night. 
 I'll have to stop, though, at Gertrude Brown's 
 before I go out to Mr. Morris's. There's a 
 case, if you two girls want to do a little good 
 in the world, where you could help. I got 
 her some work to do, she selects mottoes for 
 calendars. They send her big stacks of books 
 from the library, and she goes over them ; 
 whenever she finds a beautiful or helpful
 
 324 M4RGERT MORRIS 
 
 thought, she writes it down, with the author's 
 name, and then I send them to a society of 
 charitable ladies, who send them to the pub- 
 lishers. Speaking of mottoes, Margery, there's 
 a little verse that you ought to learn, ' Life is 
 mostly ' " 
 
 Polly nudged Margery, and in spite of her- 
 sell Margery laughed. 
 
 " What's the matter ? " demanded the doctor. 
 
 Polly was all penitence. " Please excuse 
 me, doctor dear, I just poked Margery be- 
 cause I've been teaching it to her all the after- 
 noon, and by this time she could probably 
 stand on her head and say it backward." 
 
 " She couldn't do better," declared the doc- 
 tor. " It's a fine philosophy, not very deep, 
 perhaps, but a good one to come and go on. 
 ' Two things stand like stone,' " he quoted 
 softly. " ' Kindness in our neighbor's trouble, 
 courage in our own.' Trouble is," he finished 
 with a chuckle, " most of us get it twisted, and 
 have the courage in our neighbor's trouble, 
 and the kindness in our own. Here's poor 
 Gertrude's little home now. Hold the reins, 
 Polly, I won't be long." 
 
 True to his word, the doctor did not keep
 
 A HAND WAS SLIPPED INTO HERS
 
 MARGERT AND POLLT DINE 325 
 
 them waiting long, which was a relief to 
 Margery, who felt that she could not endure 
 any more suspense. What fate was waiting 
 for her in that stately white house, which, 
 through the bare branches of the trees, she 
 could see standing high on its knoll, with the 
 moon, struggling through the sweeping clouds, 
 shining upon it ? 
 
 For the second time that day Margery 
 arrived at Mr. Morris's classic front door. 
 This time they were not requested to produce 
 their " tackets," but were ushered in, and told 
 to make themselves as comfortable as they 
 could while the doctor went up-stairs. To 
 Margery's disappointment they were not put 
 into the library, but into a small, formal re- 
 ception-room on the other side of the hall, 
 where there were no photographs of loved 
 ones to give her courage and help. Nervously 
 twisting her handkerchief between her hands, 
 she sat on the edge of the small empire sofa, 
 feeling as though she could scream. Why 
 didn't the doctor hurry ? What was he 
 waiting for? He could have read a thousand 
 ^letters in this time. 
 
 A hand was slipped into hers, a warm
 
 326 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 friendly hand, and a soft cheek was pressed 
 against her cold one, as Polly whispered, 
 " Cheer up, old girl, cheer up. It isn't a 
 matter of life and death. There conies the 
 doctor now." 
 
 The doctor and Miss Tucker came down the 
 stairs together, evidently discussing some- 
 thing with amusement. 
 
 " Well, my dears," announced the doctor 
 cheerfully, as he reached the doorway, " from 
 all the evidence I can find, and I have gone 
 over the letters very carefully, it appears that 
 Henry Morris had written to his father all 
 about his change of plans and his decision to 
 send his daughter East with friends, letters 
 which reached here after his father's sudden 
 illness. And it seems that Margery is that 
 daughter. Besides, I gleaned a good deal 
 from Margery's conversation at the table 
 to-night, so that my mind was made up 
 before I came. Then, too," he stopped to 
 laugh, " in spite of old Kiley's opinion, 
 Margery does resemble the picture hanging in 
 Mr. Morris's bedroom. That is, as much as 
 any flesh and blood girl can look like one of 
 these modern ' artistic ' dark brown, all-in-
 
 MARGERT AND POLLT DINE 327 
 
 shadow things, give me a good old-fashioned 
 tintype for a likeness. Come, girls, we must 
 go. They will send the automobile for you 
 to-morrow morning, Margery. Come, hurry, 
 girls. It's getting late, and the old doctor is 
 tired, if you aren't." 
 
 Polly threw her arms around Margery's 
 neck. " Oh, goody, Marge ! I'm so glad you 
 know ' where you're at,' as Missouri says. 
 Isn't it perfect, doctor? " 
 
 " Perfect," agreed the doctor, absently, intent 
 on hustling them off. 
 
 The nurse followed them to the door, re- 
 marking politely to Margery that she was 
 glad that everything had " turned out so 
 well." 
 
 Margery was too tired and dazed to quite 
 know whether she was glad or not at the 
 strange turn events had taken. But weary as 
 she was she was conscious of a lack of enthu- 
 siasm in the manners of her elders. She 
 detected that they felt at best an amused ex- 
 asperation that anybody could be so stupid 
 and blundering, so casual as she had been. 
 
 As though in answer to her thoughts, the 
 doctor remarked half to himself, " Funny
 
 328 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 now, Dick must have had his suspicions about 
 you, he's usually pretty bright. I suppose 
 that he was waiting for instructions how to 
 proceed from that grandfather of his. I 
 wonder why he didn't say anything. Or 
 Deborah, either. I think I'll take you home 
 first, Margery, and then, Polly, I'll go home 
 with you and have a little chat with your 
 father, I'll wager he doesn't like the way the 
 senate's acting a bit better than I do." 
 
 "If only I hadn't been so stupid," moaned 
 Margery to herself, as she huddled back in a 
 corner of the carriage. "What will Mamma 
 say when I tell her? And how shall I ever 
 tell them at the farm ? Oh, dear, I wonder 
 what the girls at school will say. And Ben- 
 jamin isn't my cousin after all I " The tears 
 welled up at that. " Oh, dear, think of hav- 
 ing to tell Dick that I'm I'm an im- 
 postor ! " 
 
 Telling Dick, however, had to be postponed, 
 for it was after nine when she reached home, 
 and Dick, still in training for football, had 
 already gone to his room. 
 
 Deborah was the only one of the household 
 up, and she seemed to be far more concerned
 
 MARGERT AND POLLY DINE 329 
 
 by the fact that Margery looked very tired 
 and pale than by her extraordinary news. 
 
 " Yes, dear, you can tell me all about it to- 
 morrow. You look tired out, child I Yes, 
 dear, I suspected that something was queer, 
 that is, lately I have ; and Dick has all along, 
 I think. But Dick's not being able to get 
 into touch with his grandfather upset things. 
 But you must go to bed at once, child. Are 
 you sure that coat is warm enough for this 
 weather ? Dear me, how I shall miss you ! 
 I dread telling the news to Benjamin, the 
 little chap has been so proud of his pretty 
 cousin. Yes, dear, it was rather too bad 
 that you weren't rather more communicative 
 when you first came ; it would have saved 
 some trouble, but you mustn't talk any more 
 about it to-night ! Go right up to bed, and 
 I'll bring you up some hot cocoa. Poor little 
 Benjamin ! he'll be so disappointed." 
 
 Deborah bustled off, and Margery dragged 
 herself up to bed. 
 
 " Now drink this," said J)eborah, coming 
 in with a cup of cocoa in her hand. " Time 
 enough in the morning to talk ! I've filled 
 the hot-water bag, for I'm afraid that you
 
 330 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 have taken cold driving in that thin coat 
 this damp evening. Good-night." 
 
 She spread the quilt over Margery, and 
 opening the window, and blowing out the 
 lamp, she slipped out of the room. 
 
 Left alone, Margery buried her head in the 
 pillow, and burst into tears. " Oh, dear," she 
 gasped between sobs, " I wonder if I shall ever 
 be able to face anybody in Renwyck's Town 
 again i " 
 
 She was too tired to cry long, however. 
 Soon she was asleep, and dreaming that a 
 fierce-eyed, angry Mr. Morris pointed an ac- 
 cusing finger at her, and thundered : 
 
 " She is an impostor I "
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 AT LAST 
 
 MARGERY woke the next morning with the 
 sense that something had happened, but she 
 could not think what it was. Half awake 
 she lay dreamily watching the window cur- 
 tain flapping in the breeze. " Oh," she 
 ejaculated suddenly, " of course ! " 
 
 With a groan she dragged herself out from 
 under the warm bedclothes, and banged down 
 the window. A glance at her watch told her 
 that it was almost breakfast time ; she must 
 dress as quickly as she could and hurry down- 
 stairs to tell the strange news to Dick. 
 
 " Well, anyway," she sighed as she laced 
 her shoes, " I'll have it over soon." 
 
 She found Dick in the dining-room, down 
 on hands and knees before the fireplace, blow- 
 ing at a rather dismal fire to make it burn 
 brighter. 
 
 331
 
 332 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 " Dick ! " she cried, " I have the most dread- 
 ful news to tell you ! " 
 
 Dick turned around, his cheeks still puffed 
 out. Margery giggled hysterically at his 
 absurd appearance. 
 
 " Er I " said Dick, as soon as he 
 
 could speak. 
 
 " I'm not your cousin after all. I don't 
 even belong here ! I I just came here 
 and and settled down as though I owned 
 things ! I'm the other Mr. Morris's grand- 
 daughter ! " 
 
 " Yes, I know you are." 
 
 " Oh, Dick, how did you know ? " 
 
 " Deborah told me, for one thing." 
 
 " Isn't it the most mortifying thing I To 
 think that / should be an impostor ! " 
 
 " Don't be a goose, Margery ! You didn't 
 do it to deceive anybody. It was all my 
 fault, anyway." 
 
 11 How ? " 
 
 " I haven't known what to do about it," 
 Dick went on, sitting back on his heels. " I 
 felt sure, right from the very first, that you 
 didn't belong here ; but Grandfather is so 
 peculiar that it would be like him to have a
 
 AT LAST 333 
 
 girl coming here and never say a word about 
 it to us, not that he isn't a fine old boy," he 
 threw in loyally. 
 
 " Of course, the natural thing to do was to 
 pump you, but Great Scott, every time that 
 I tried to ask you a question you were so sav- 
 age I gave it up ! Besides, I knew if your 
 coming here was all right, and I worried you, 
 I'd catch it from Grandfather when he came 
 home. And then," Dick poked the fire rather 
 shamefacedly, " I didn't like to do anything 
 to hurt a girl's feelings. But wasn't it funny 
 tke way you happened to wander in to Mr. Mor- 
 ris's and stumble on those pictures ? Hadn't 
 you ever suspected before that you might fit 
 in there ? " 
 
 Margery paid no attention to his questions. 
 " But Dick, you guessed right away that I 
 didn't belong here ? " 
 
 " Sure, you didn't fit into being my es- 
 teemed uncle's daughter somehow. Though 
 Uncle Harry has moved from state to state 
 such a lot, and been on the edge of making a 
 fortune so often, that I didn't know but what 
 he had gone to California and put it over at 
 last. Not that I care what he does," and the
 
 334 MARGERY MORRIS 
 
 note of bitterness crept into Dick's voice ; "he 
 was too mean to Mother for me to take any 
 stock in him." 
 
 " But Dick, why did you just let me stay 
 here ? Why didn't you try to do something 
 about me ? " 
 
 Dick stood up and brushed the dust off his 
 knees. " I did," he said simply. " I wrote 
 to Grandfather the first night you came to ask 
 him if everything was all right. He was go- 
 ing so from one little town to the other, and 
 from ranch to ranch, that the letters didn't 
 catch up to him, but you know all about the 
 time we have had over letters. They finally 
 did catch up to him, and I had a letter from 
 Grandfather yesterday after you had gone 
 in to Polly's, you didn't know that, I sup- 
 pose. Grandfather said that he was quite 
 sure that there must be a mistake somewhere. 
 He had had no word from Uncle Harry about 
 any of the family coming on, and he said, 
 too, that my dear uncle's daughter's name is 
 Elizabeth, not Margaret they always call her 
 Princess or Bunnie or some such trash, or 
 they used to, anyway, so I was pretty shaky 
 on her name. Grandfather jumped at once
 
 AT LAST 335 
 
 to the idea that you must belong to the other 
 Henry Morris, and said that he remembered 
 Mr. Morris saying something about having a 
 granddaughter named after the original Mar- 
 garet. The rest of the letter was taken up 
 with telling me that he would be home very 
 shortly, and if nothing else turned up, to 
 make you comfortable until he reached 
 here." 
 
 " Then he wasn't angry ? " 
 
 " No, he didn't seem to be. He took it for 
 granted that you belonged at the other house. 
 Mr. Morris is about the only person here- 
 abouts that he likes very much, besides, we 
 are cousins, you know. About fifty-sixth 
 ones ! Of course, when you first came, I con- 
 nected you right away with the other Mr. 
 Morris, I rode over there, too, to see. You 
 remember, I went there the day you rode 
 Tempe Wick. There wasn't anybody to ask 
 about you but the trained nurse, who said 
 that Mr. Morris was too sick to see anybody. 
 That nurse was some dame, I can assure you I 
 I hear that she's the night nurse now, and 
 that they've got a peach for a day nurse. 
 Anyway, the one I saw froze me with an icy
 
 336 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 glance, and said positively no granddaughter 
 was being expected, and evidently thought I 
 wanted to flirt with said unexpected grand- 
 daughter. And then she turned away as 
 though I had been a worm that she had 
 stepped on, and that she didn't like the looks 
 of, after she had done the stepping, and began 
 to talk to one of the maids. So I beat it. 
 Then I inquired around cautiously, you bet, 
 for the gossip that goes on in this town is 
 enough to kill a cat but none of the other 
 Morrises seemed to be missing anybody. So 
 there has been so much clacking over Grand- 
 father's boundary rows, and all the company 
 that we have, that I just decided to wait until 
 I heard from him definitely before I gave 
 the old tabbies anything more to chuckle 
 
 over." 
 
 Margery sat still, thinking. In the first 
 excitement of the great discovery she had 
 forgotten that evening in the library when 
 Dick had suggested tentatively that her arri- 
 val at the farm might be a mistake, and she 
 had grown so angry at him that he declared 
 that he would never mention the subject to 
 her again. Now, looking back, it seemed
 
 AT LAST 337 
 
 to her as though it must have been some 
 other girl, instead of herself, who had spoken 
 so. 
 
 " Dick," she began timidly, " did Deborah 
 know?" 
 
 Dick looked at her over the top of the 
 paper he had picked up. " Eh ? Oh, no. 
 Not at first, at any rate. Poor little Debo- 
 rah's had enough worries ever since she's 
 been here, and I thought my shoulders were 
 broad enough to bear the burden until I 
 knew," he finished with a manly, resolute 
 expression that contrasted oddly with his 
 boyish face. 
 
 " Didn't you tell her at all ? " 
 
 "Well, when I began to get so fidgety 
 about Grandfather's not answering my let- 
 ters, she knew something was up, and she 
 pinned me down until I told her. I wish 
 you could have heard her then," and Dick 
 chuckled. " She gave me a regular tearing 
 out. Told me that anybody with any sense 
 would have told her all about it right away, 
 and then with her woman's tact she could 
 have gleaned all the facts from you without 
 hurting your feelings, or letting you know
 
 338 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 that there was any gleaning going on. Oh, 
 she got quite indignant wanted to know how 
 she was to be expected to keep the Morris 
 family straight when they didn't seem to 
 have sense enough to know whether they 
 were going or coming. Oh, I had no idea 
 before that Deborah had so much pep to her. 
 Then finally she said that as I had let things 
 slide so without telling her, I had better wait 
 until I heard from Grandfather before I took 
 any steps, and twisted things up any more. 
 Then she was too ill, after that, to worry 
 much about things, so we just waited." 
 
 The door opened and Benjamin bounced in. 
 " Oh, Margie," he cried, " Deborah has told 
 me, and I'm so sorry you're going away ! 
 I'll miss you awful much, Margie ! " 
 
 He threw his arms around her neck, and 
 with a pang Margery held him close to her. 
 
 " Deborah," said Margery miserably, as she 
 packed her bag a little later in the morning, 
 "isn't it dreadful? I I feel as though I 
 never wanted to look anybody in the face 
 again 1 " 
 
 Deborah looked up from the dressing gown 
 she was folding. " There's no use in tak-
 
 AT LAST 339 
 
 ing it like that, child," she said practi- 
 cally. " You made a mistake, of course, 
 most of us do, sooner or later. But you also 
 brought a great deal of pleasure to a little 
 child, and you helped to make a sick old 
 woman comfortable. If I were you, dear, 
 I'd think more about that side of it. And 
 I'd think still more about the things you can 
 do to make your grandfather happy. He 
 will probably be a long time getting back 
 his strength, and he will need somebody 
 young and cheerful about the house to en- 
 courage him, and to keep him amused. Per- 
 haps," she stopped to laugh, " if you hadn't 
 had me to practice upon you wouldn't have 
 known how to do it. And I do think, dear," 
 she went on seriously, " that you are needed 
 there. Your grandfather has been far more 
 lonely than he realized, I imagine, or than 
 was good for him. It's not well for anybody 
 to live such a solitary existence, even if he 
 does think that he prefers it. You have your 
 work before you : just to bring sunshine to 
 the old house." 
 
 Margery winked away the tears. " I'll 
 try," she said humbly.
 
 340 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 At ten the automobile came for her, and 
 carried her away to her new home. 
 
 Miss Tucker met her at the door when she 
 arrived at the White House. " I'll take 
 you right up to the room you are to have," 
 she explained. " And then about eleven 
 o'clock you may see your grandfather for 
 a few minutes. Come up as quietly as you 
 can." 
 
 Miss Tucker led the way up the wide Co- 
 lonial stairway that rose from the back of the 
 hall. Margery followed, vainly trying to look 
 about her, and to listen to Miss Tucker at the 
 same time. So this was to be her home for 
 the rest of the winter ! 
 
 " We have told your grandfather that you 
 have come on unexpectedly early," the nurse 
 continued, crossing the wide upper corridor, 
 " and he wants to see you. Of course, for the 
 present, we have not mentioned that there was 
 any mix-up about your reaching here. It 
 might worry or excite him, and that would 
 never do ! " She stopped with her hand on 
 the knob of a door. " Both Miss Betz and I 
 are strangers here in Renwyck's Town, we 
 were called here only for this case. So we
 
 AT LAST 341 
 
 don't know many family details, I'm sorry I 
 wasn't able to be of more help to you yester- 
 day." 
 
 She opened the door, and they entered a 
 large, sunny room, luxuriously and comforta- 
 bly furnished. 
 
 " I don't know what room your grandfather 
 will wish you to have, Miss Morris, but this 
 will do for the present, I'm sure. Can I help 
 you to unpack? No? Well, then, I'll leave 
 you for a while." 
 
 In a few minutes Miss Tucker was back. 
 " Mr. Morris is awake now," she said, " and 
 wants to see you. Be as bright and cheerful 
 as you can, and don't talk too long." 
 
 They crossed the corridor again to a suite of 
 rooms in the library wing of the house. 
 " Here he is," Miss Tucker whispered, opening 
 a door. " Go in. But don't stay too long, re- 
 member." 
 
 Margery stood still a moment, shyly looking 
 at her grandfather propped up on the pillows 
 of a great, four-post bed. 
 
 He smiled at her and held out his hand. 
 " Well, little girl," he said softly. 
 
 Margery forgot her shyness at the sight of the
 
 342 MARGERT MORRIS 
 
 dear, remembered face, now so white against 
 the pillows. 
 
 " Oh, Grandpapa," she cried, hurrying across 
 the room to him, " it's so perfect to be with 
 you at last." 
 
 The Stories in this Series are : 
 MARGERY MORRIS 
 MARGERY MORRIS, MASCOT (in press)
 
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