The old eyes never once suspected
that the work grew faster than her own fingers moved. Once she remarked
plaintively: "Seems to me it takes you a long time to pick up one
stitch."
"There were three this time," returned Marjorie, seriously.
"What does the master learn you about?" asked Mrs. Rheid.
"Oh, the school studies! And I read the dictionary by myself."
"I thought you had some new words."
"I want some good words," said Marjorie.
"Now don't you go and get talking like a book," said grandmother,
sharply, "if you do you can't come and talk to me."
"But you can talk to me," returned Marjorie, smiling, "and that is what I
want. Hollis wrote me that I mustn't say 'guess' and I do forget so
often."
"Hollis is getting ideas," said Hollis' mother; "well, let him, I want
him to learn all he can."
Marjorie was wondering where her own letter to Hollis would come in;
she had stowed away in the storehouse of her memory messages enough
from mother and grandmother to fill one sheet, both given with many
explanations, and before she went home Captain Rheid would come in
and add his word to Hollis. And if she should write two sheets this
time would her mother think it foolish? It was one of Mrs. West's
old-fashioned ways to ask Marjorie to let her read every letter that
she wrote.
With her reserve Marjorie could open her heart more fully to Miss
Prudence than she could to one nearer her; it was easier to tell Miss
Prudence that she loved her than to tell her mother that she loved her,
and there were some things that she could say to Mr.
Pages:
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161