arjory followed Miss Maud into church. She did not much like the look
of her, she decided. Waspy had said one must never judge hastily of
people, but she did not feel that she was going to like this girl; even
her back view looked stuck-up!

It really did; for Maud could never forget that she was Miss Hilary
Forester, and she gave a self-satisfied little waggle to her skirts as
she walked, which said very plainly, "Look at me! Don't I strike you as
being more attractive than most girls?"

This attitude on Maud's part was hardly to be wondered at, seeing that
she had been spoiled and petted all her life. Everything that she said
and did was extravagantly praised by her adoring mother, and she had
grown up with exaggerated ideas of her cleverness, her looks, and her
own importance. What wonder, then, that the poor child held her head
high and waggled her skirts? But Marjory knew nothing of these causes,
and, seeing only their effects, her feelings towards the newcomer had
not softened at all by the time church was over.

The three girls walked together as far as the turning to Braeside, and
conversation flagged considerably.

"Are there many parties here at Christmas?" asked Maud.

"I don't know," replied Blanche.--"Are there, Marjory?"

"Not that I know of."

"What a dead-and-alive place to live in!" exclaimed Maud.

"It isn't!" said Blanche, firing up.

"Don't be so touchy, Blanche," said her cousin. "You don't seem to be at
all improved since I saw you."

Just then Silky, who had been sitting by the milestone as usual,
watching for his mistress, bounded forward to meet her, jumping and
barking round her with every sign of delight. In so doing he brushed
against Maud, and she was not at all pleased.

"What a horrid, rough dog!" she cried. "Do send him off, one of you! I
hate a great lumbering beast like that!"

"He isn't either horrid or rough," said Marjory indignantly, "but I
think I'd better go. Good-bye, Miss Hilary Forester.--Good-bye,
Blanche.--Come, Silky darling." And she walked on.

Maud laughed. "'Love me, love my dog,'" she quoted loudly, so that
Marjory might hear. And then to Blanche, "This friend you talk so much
about seems to be somewhat of a savage. I shall try to tame her,
though, for I rather like the look of her."

Marjory marched on, very indignant. It was hateful, she thought, that
this outsider, with her smart frocks and her superior ways, should come
and spoil their good time. Sh