be
angry if you knew; it wasn't anything wrong."

Dr. Hunter looked steadily at his niece, but she did not flinch. There
was a look in her eyes, half appeal, half defiant challenge, which
reminded him of her father. Just so had he looked during their last
stormy interview.

"Very well, my child; I believe you," said the doctor. He had never
known Marjory to tell a lie, and he could trust her. Still, he could not
help wondering what secret she was keeping from him.

He was turning away with a sigh, when suddenly he felt the girl's arms
about his neck, and her wet cheek pressed to his. "Thank you, uncle
dear," she murmured; "you are very good to me."

He returned the caress very heartily. Surely, indeed, if slowly, the
better understanding was growing. They went into the dining-room to
join Mr. Forester, the doctor's arm still round Marjory's waist.

"Smoothed it all over, eh?" asked Mr. Forester, smiling. "It's
extraordinary the way the girls have of making their own tales good;
isn't it, doctor? There's my Blanche now--she can simply twist me round
her little finger, and make me say yes when I mean no, little beggar
that she is," laughing.

"Blanche is a good girl, and so is Marjory," said the doctor.

"There now; didn't I say so? That young witch has simply made you think
that to slip out on a dark night, get caught for a poacher, and then
refuse to give any explanation, is the action of a pattern girl. Poor
deluded old man!" And Mr. Forester shook his head and spread out his
hands with a gesture of despair. "I tell you, these girls will make a
fellow believe that the blackest of black is in reality the whitest of
white, if only he will look at it in the right way--their way, of
course."

"Don't you mind, Marjory; he's only teasing. We understand each other,
don't we? Run away to bed and leave him to me. You have had an exciting
day, and you must be tired and sleepy."

Marjory was tired, but she could not go to sleep. She was unable to
forget that man and his trouble. What could it be? Then, too, there was
Mrs. Shaw. She had learned to-day the cause of the stern expression in
those dark eyes and of the sometimes bitter tongue. There must surely be
a great deal of trouble in the world. Marjory was very sensitive to the
pain of others; her heart went out at once to any one who was suffering;
no matter who or where, she felt she must try to help them.

As she lay thinking about the stranger, a sudden light fla