to his own room,
having left his charge in safe hands.

"I am afraid it was my own fault," she said, honestly. "I saw a boy
ill-treating a poor old horse, and tried to stop him by getting the whip
away from him, but he was much stronger than I, and in the struggle I
suppose he must have twisted my wrist. I am afraid your son and my
aunt's maid both think I was very unladylike."

Mrs. Randolph and the doctor exchanged amused glances, and the latter
said kindly:

"I wish more people were moved by the same spirit, though I don't know
that I should advise young girls to attack rough drivers. I imagine you
have not been very long in New York or you would be accustomed to such
sights."

"No," said Marjorie, much relieved. "I have only been in New York three
weeks. My home is on a ranch in Arizona, but I have been accustomed to
horses all my life. I think my father would almost kill any boy who
dared to treat one of ours like that."

"I daresay he would. Your father raises horses, I suppose?"

"Yes, and cattle, too. I have lived on the ranch ever since I was two
years old, and New York seems very strange in some ways."

"It must," said Dr. Randolph gravely, but his eyes twinkled, and
Marjorie felt sure he was trying not to laugh. "There, I think the wrist
will do nicely now. You can wet this bandage again in an hour, and if I
am not mistaken the pain will be gone by that time. I must be going now,
Barbara; I have two patients to see before dinner. I'll call for you and
Beverly in the car at nine to-morrow morning; that will give us plenty
of time to make New Haven before lunch." And with a hurried leave-taking
the doctor departed, leaving Mrs. Randolph and Marjorie alone together.

The next half-hour was a very pleasant one. Mrs. Randolph would not
allow the girl to go back to her own apartment until the pain in her
wrist had subsided, and she made her lie on the sofa, and petted her in
a way that recalled Mother and Aunt Jessie so strongly that Marjorie had
some difficulty in keeping back the homesick tears. Almost before she
knew it, she was chatting away to this new acquaintance as if they had
been old friends.

"I hope I shall get accustomed to New York ways soon," she said humbly.
"I am afraid I make a great many mistakes, and they distress my aunt and
cousin very much. You see, it is all so different on the ranch. I
suppose your son told you how I spoke to him that morning in the park,
and asked him to take me