Holmes that she
could not say to her father. It may be a strange kind of reserve, but it
is like many of us. Therefore, under this surveillance, Marjorie's
letters were not what her heart prompted them to be.
If, in her own young days, her mother had ever felt thus she had
forgotten it.
But for this Marjorie's letters would have been one unalloyed pleasure.
One day it occurred to her to send her letter to the mail before her
mother was aware that she had written, but she instantly checked the
suggestion as high treason.
Josie Grey declared that Marjorie was "simple" about some things. A taint
of deceit would have caused her as deep remorse as her heart was capable
of suffering.
"Grandma, please tell me something that happened when you were little,"
coaxed Marjorie, as she placed the knitting back in the old fingers.
How pink and plump the young fingers looked as they touched the old
hands.
"You haven't told me about the new boy yet," said the old lady. "How old
is he? Where did he come from? and what does he look like?"
"_We_ want another boy," said Mrs. Rheid, "but boys don't like to stay
here. Father says I spoil them."
"Our 'boy,'--Morris Kemlo,--don't you think it's a pretty name? It's real
funny, but he and I are twins, we were born on the same day, we were
both fourteen this summer. He is taller than I am, of course, with light
hair, blue eyes, and a perfect gentleman, mother says. He is behind in
his studies, but Mr. Holmes says he'll soon catch up, especially if he
studies with me evenings.
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