"
"Not spilt milk, but only a broken milk pitcher! _Do_ you think you can
find me a yellow pitcher, with yellow figures--a man, or a lion, or
something, a hundred or two hundred years old?"
"In New York? I'm rather doubtful. Oh, I know--mother has some old ware,
it belonged to her grandmother, perhaps I can beg a piece of it for you.
Will it do if it isn't a pitcher?"
"I'd rather have a pitcher, a yellow pitcher. The one I broke belongs to
a friend of Miss Prudence."
"Prudence! Is she a Puritan maiden?" he asked.
Marjorie felt very ignorant, she colored and was silent. She supposed
Helen Rheid would know what a Puritan maiden was.
"I won't tease you," he said penitently. "I'll find you something to make
the loss good, perhaps I'll find something she'll like a great deal
better."
"Mr. Onderdonk has a plate that came from Holland, it's over two hundred
years old he told Miss Prudence; oh, if you _could_ get that!" cried
Marjorie, clasping her hands in her eagerness.
"Mr. Onderdonk? Oh, the shoemaker, near the schoolhouse. Well, Mousie,
you shall have some old thing if I have to go back a century to get it.
Helen will be interested to know all about it; I've told her about you."
"There's nothing to tell about me," returned Marjorie.
"Then I must have imagined it; you used to be such a cunning little
thing."
"_Used to be!_" repeated sensitive Marjorie, to herself. She was sure
Hollis was disappointed in her. And she thought he was so tall and wise
and handsome and grand! She could never be disappointed in him.
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