his
arms, and carried her into the parlour where her mother was waiting for
her, and set her on her own little couch which had never been removed
all this time, and then the door was shut. But not for very long.

For there were all the brothers waiting to see her, and there was the
little sister, who, when she went away, had been a tiny creature in a
long white frock, whom Marjorie longed to see. She was a little lass of
two years now, rosy and strong as any brother of them all. She was in
Allison's arms when the door was opened to admit them, and the pleasant
confusion that followed maybe imagined, for it cannot be described.

That was but the beginning. During the next few days, many a one came
to the manse to see the little maiden who had suffered so patiently,
though she longed so eagerly to be strong and well like the rest. And
now she was "strong and well," she told them all, and the eager, smiling
face was "bonnier and sweeter than ever," her admiring friends agreed.

And those who could not come to see her, she went to see--auld Maggie
and the rest. The schoolmistress was come to the end of all her
troubles, before this time, and was lying at peace in the kirkyard. So
were some others, that Marjorie missed from the kirk and from the
streets, but there was room only for brief sorrow in the heart of the
child.

In the course of a few days Marjorie and Allison were invited to drink
tea at Mrs Beaton's, which was a pleasure to them both. Mrs Beaton
read to them bits out of her John's last letters, which told a good many
interesting things about America, and about John himself, and about a
friend of his, who was well and happy there. Marjorie listened eagerly
and asked many questions. Allison listened in silence, gazing into her
old friend's kindly face with wistful eyes.

That night, when the child was sleeping quietly, Allison came back again
to hear more. There was not much to hear which Allison had not heard
before, for her brother wrote to her regularly now. She had some things
to tell John's mother, which she had not heard from her son, though she
might have guessed some of them. He had told her of his growing success
in his business, and he had said enough about Willie Bain to make it
clear that they were good friends, who cared for one another, and who
had helped one another through the time when they were making the first
doubtful experiment of living as strangers in a strange land. But
Wi