She was not unlike his
city girl friends; even her dress was more modern and tasteful than
Marjorie's.
"Marjorie is so little and doesn't care," she often pleaded with their
mother when there was not money enough for both. And Marjorie looked on
and held her peace.
Self-sacrifice was an instinct with Marjorie.
"I am older and must have the first chance," Linnet said.
So Marjorie held back and let Linnet have the chances.
Linnet was to have the "first chance" at going to school in September.
Marjorie stayed one moment looking at the two as they talked, proud of
Linnet and thinking that Hollis must think she, at least, was something
like his cousin Helen, and then she hurried away hoping to return with
her basket of eggs before Hollis was gone. Hollis was almost like some
one in a story-book to her. I doubt if she ever saw any one as other
people saw them; she always saw so much. She needed only an initial; it
was easy enough to fill out the word. She hurried across the yard, opened
the large barn-yard gate, skipped across the barn-yard, and with a little
leap was in the barn floor. Last night she had forgotten to look in the
mow; she would find a double quantity hidden away there to-night. She
wondered if old Queen Bess were still persisting in sitting on nothing in
the mow's far dark corner; tossing away her hindering hat and catching up
an old basket, she ran lightly up the ladder to the mow. She never
remembered that she ran up the ladder.
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