watching her master, on guard lest he
should move a muscle.

The doctor smiled as Marjory went towards him, and she stooped to kiss
him. He seemed very weak and soon closed his eyes.

Lisbeth fetched a chair, so that Marjory might sit beside him while she
went to the kitchen to prepare what was wanted, giving strict
injunctions that the patient must not move.

After a little while the doctor said in a low tone, "Marjory, did you
give me away?" a note of half-comic, half-pathetic inquiry in his voice.

"No, uncle; I only told Dr. Morison I thought you had been trying some
experiment, but I didn't say where. Nobody knows where I found you."

"Good little girl!" he said, closing his eyes again and smiling
contentedly. The thought that his den might have been discovered had
been worrying the doctor. Its secrecy had been one of its great charms
to the eccentric man, and the knowledge that it was no longer secret
would have been a real trouble to him.

He did not talk any more, and Marjory asked no questions, though she was
naturally very anxious to know exactly how the accident had happened.

Mr. Forester came up later in the evening to inquire how things were
going. Lisbeth had sent a message by the coachman who had come for
Marjory that there had been an accident to Dr. Hunter, and that she
would like Jean to come back at once unless she was very badly wanted.

Mr. Forester was very kind. He told Marjory how they had all missed her,
and promised that some day they would give another party expressly for
her. He did not tease her at all, and Marjory liked him better than she
ever had as yet. She could not have stood any teasing, poor child, after
all she had been through. The sight of her uncle, injured as he was,
hurt her sorely. She could not see suffering without feeling pain
herself, and it was a pale-faced girl, on the verge of tears, who
answered Mr. Forester's inquiries.

When Marjory went to her room her things for the party were still lying
on the bed. The sight of them struck a chill to her heart, for it made
her realize how little one can tell what a day may bring; how evening
may see changes undreamt of in the morning. The party which had seemed
all-important when she woke that day had dwindled away into nothing,
blotted out of sight by the happenings of the last few hours. Still, her
chief feeling was one of great thankfulness that the doctor thought her
uncle would get over this trouble; and that she