the arms of Allison; but there could be
no lingering there because of all that was to be done at home. Marjorie
needed no one to stay with her. If it were "a garden day," as she
called it when it was fair and the wind blew softly, she was content to
be quite alone for hours together. She could be trusted to walk no
farther and make no greater exertion than was good for her.

In the house she had a book, or her doll, or the stocking she was
knitting, to pass the time. In the garden she did not need these. She
had the flowers first of all, the trees and the changing sky, the bees
and the birds. The crows, which came and conversed together on the
great firs beyond the wall, had much to say to her as well as to one
another. She put their speech into words for her own pleasure, and
looked with their eyes on the distant hilltops and into the valleys
between, and saw what they saw there. A late laverock springing up now
and then thrilled her with his song and set her singing also, or the
cooing of the doves soothed her to peaceful slumber and happy dreams.

But there came a day when all did not go so well with the child. The
sky was overcast and rain threatened; and Marjorie fretted and was "ill
to do with," while her mother hesitated as to the propriety of her going
to Firhill. The coming of the pony carriage decided the matter,
however, and the child went away, a little ashamed of herself, but never
doubting that all would be as usual when she reached the garden.

But she did not have a happy day. The weather was warm and close, and
as the afternoon wore on the sky darkened, so that it was gloomy even in
the garden, and a sudden pang of homesickness smote the child when they
carried her into the deeper gloom of the house. She struggled bravely
against it for a while, telling herself how foolish she was, and how
ungrateful Mrs Esselmont would think her if she were to cry, or even
seem to wish to go home before the time.

Poor little girl! She was ill and uncomfortable, and did not know it.
She thought herself only naughty and ungrateful; and when she could no
longer keep back her tears, and in spite of a determination not to do
so, cried out that she wanted her mother, she believed that the end of
her happy days had come.

Into the confusion which all this caused, Allison came, earlier than
usual, in the hope of getting the child home before the rain. At the
sight of her, Marjorie's tears flowed faster than