Nina Rhoades

“ But despite her cheerful assurances, Marjorie's heart was not very light when she accompanied her aunt and cousin to the lift, and saw them start, Elsie's face wreathed in smiles, and even Aunt Julia looking as if she had not altogether [142] outgrown her interest in a football game. She went slowly back to her own room, and taking up her Greek history, determined to forget present disappointment, and spend the next hour with the Greek heroes. But to make up one's mind to do a thing, and to carry out one's good intentions are two very different matters. ”

“ Oh, Marjorie, do you think I shall ever remember?"
"I'm sure you will," said Marjorie confidently, "and so is Aunt Jessie. She says she's sure when you get well and strong it will make a great difference, and that's why she wants you to [77] be out in the air as much as possible. You are ever so much better now than when you came, and when you are better still, and have left off worrying, you'll wake up some morning remembering everything; just wait and see if you don't."
Undine smiled, but the smile was rather sad. ”

“ Undine's face brightened.
"I hope she will—oh, I do hope so!" she said eagerly. "She is so dear, and I want to please her so much, but I'm afraid I'm very stupid."
"You are not stupid at all," declared Marjorie loyally. "You are much cleverer than I am about lots of things. It isn't your fault if you've never been taught to sew."
"There wasn't any time to learn at Miss Brent's," said Undine; "there were always such a lot of errands, and so many parcels to be carried home. I suppose if I had learned before the earthquake I shouldn't remember now." ”

“ What if a surgeon could really be found who would be able to cure Aunt Jessie? Such a possibility seemed almost too wonderful to be contemplated, and yet,—and yet [65] —
The whistle of a distant train broke the stillness, and Marjorie came down from her air castle to remark—
"There goes the East Bound; two hours late to-day."
"You seem as much interested in the hours of trains as if you were in the habit of traveling on one at least once a week," said Mr. Carleton, smiling. "How would you like to take a journey—to go to New York, for instance?" ”

“ It was the first time she has ever told me much about Barbara, and I was so interested in all she said. I don't think I shall ever be afraid of dying again; Mrs. Randolph spoke so beautifully about it. She says she can never feel that her little girl is far away, and she is quite sure they will be together again some day. I think Barbara must have been an awfully nice girl; every one seems so fond of her. Grace Patterson was her chum, and she can hardly speak of her without crying. As for Beverly, he just can't bear to talk about her at all, and I don't dare ask him a single question. ”

“ Mrs. Randolph and the doctor watched her with kindly amusement. Her eyes were sparkling with excitement, and there was a bright color in her cheeks; she seemed quite a different creature from the pale, subdued girl of a week before.
"I declare, Barbara, I had no idea that little girl was so pretty," Dr. Randolph remarked in a low tone to his sister-in-law, when Marjorie and Beverly were in the midst of an animated discussion about Captain John Smith and Pocahontas.
"She is charming," Mrs. Randolph answered, smiling. "It is strange how much environment has to do with appearance." ”

“ Marjorie's eyes opened wide in surprise, and she glanced at the white-capped French maid, who still lingered in the background.
"You are very kind, Aunt Julia," she said politely, "but I don't need any help; I always do everything for myself."
Mrs. Carleton looked a little embarrassed.
"You may go, Hortense," she said, turning to the maid; "Miss Marjorie will ring if she wants you. You mustn't let her think you don't need her, dear," she added in a lower tone, as the maid left the room. "She is rather inclined to be lazy, and she will take advantage of you if you are too easy with her." ”

“ One of the first to approach her and hold out his hand, was Beverly Randolph.
"You're a trump, Elsie," he said, in his blunt, boyish way. "It takes a lot of pluck to get up and say a thing like that. Let's shake hands and be friends." And at that moment Elsie was happier than she had been in months.
"I think I'll just stop a minute to say good-night to Aunt Jessie," remarked Marjorie, as they were going up to their apartment in the lift. "I don't believe she has gone to bed yet if Dr. Randolph is spending the evening. Tell Aunt Julia I'll be right up, Elsie." ”

“ Oh, here comes your aunt; I'll go and help her with her chair." And dropping her towel on the floor of the porch, Undine darted into the house, whence she returned in a moment, carefully guiding Miss Graham's wheeled chair over the door-sill.
"Thank you, dear," Miss Graham said, kindly. "You are a very helpful little girl, but when you are as accustomed to me and my chair as Marjorie is, you will realize that I can manage very well. I heard your voices, and thought I would come out here for a little while; it's so much cooler than in the house." ”

“ My mother is English, but she and my father came to this country when they were married, and my brother and I were both born in New York. We lived here until four years ago, when my uncle took us back to England to live with him."
"I should think it would be wonderfully interesting to live in England," said Marjorie. "I suppose of course you have been in London, and seen the Tower and Westminster Abbey?"
"Oh, yes," said Betty, smiling. "One of my uncle's places is quite near London, and we often motor into town. I like America, though; it always seems more like home. ”

“ Graham sat for a long time by her daughter's bedside that night, and they had what Marjorie called "a perfectly Heavenly talk." It was a serious talk, but not a sad one, and when it was over, and Marjorie flung her arms round her mother's neck, and did break down just a little, things did not seem nearly as hopeless as she had expected.
"I don't believe any other girl in the world [80] has such a perfect mother as I have," was Marjorie's last waking thought. "I don't deserve her, and never can, but I'm going to try not to disappoint her any more than I can possibly help. ”

“ The tears rushed to Marjorie's eyes.
"Oh, Uncle Henry!" she began, then checked herself abruptly, and, with a half suppressed sob, turned and fled back to her own room.
It was more than an hour later when Elsie presented herself at her cousin's door.
"May I come in, Marjorie?" she inquired in a rather conciliatory tone.
Marjorie looked up from the letter she was writing; her face brightening with sudden hope.
"Of course you may," she said, heartily. [234]
"Oh, Elsie, do let us make up; I can't stand not being friends with people I love." ”

“ Undine scrambled to her feet.
"All right," she said; "I'll be back before that. Oh, Miss Jessie, isn't the air glorious to-day? It makes me feel so happy and excited; just as if something were going to happen."
Undine tripped away to the house, and Miss Graham, as she opened her book, heard the clear young voice singing:
"'A Highland laddie lives over the lea;
A laddie both noble and gallant and free.'"
The song died away in the distance, and Miss Jessie became absorbed in her story. ”

“ Elsie had not forgotten, as her heightened color and embarrassed manner plainly showed.
Beverly went to the piano, and began playing rag-time, with the cheerful desire of raising the drooping spirits of the party. He proposed they should sing college songs, but nobody felt inclined for singing and the attempt proved a dismal failure.
"What a very uncomfortable thing suspense is," remarked Barbara, as the clock struck five.
"You would say so if you had been through the suspense Marjorie and I have," her brother said. "We know something of what suspense means, don't we, Marjorie?" ”

“ If I were well educated, I might teach, and be a real help to you all, but there isn't anything I can do now but just sit still and make the best of things." [6]
"Making the best of things is what we all have to do," said Miss Graham, smiling rather sadly. "You do it very well, too, Marjorie dear. Your father and I were talking last evening of how bravely you have borne this disappointment. We all realize what it has meant to you, but we are not a family who are much given to talking about our troubles."
"I know we're not," said Marjorie, "and I'm glad of it. ”

“ The policeman looked uncertain, but at that moment a young man riding a bicycle appeared upon the scene, at sight of whom Marjorie's face brightened, and she uttered a little gasp of relief.
"That young gentleman knows," she exclaimed joyfully, and, quite forgetful of her aunt's snub of the evening before, she darted forward, and hailed the youth on the bicycle quite as if she had been an old friend.
"Oh, please excuse me for stopping you," she cried, eagerly, "but you know where I want to go, and I have forgotten the name of the hotel."
The young man brought his bicycle to a standstill ”

“ Marjorie flushed with pleasure.
"I'm glad," she said; "I'd rather look like Mother than any one else. Is Elsie with you?"
"Elsie? You know about my little girl, too, then?"
"Oh, yes, indeed; I know she is just about my age. Mother has a photograph of her, taken when she was a baby, and I've always wished I could see her. Having a cousin of one's own age must be almost as good as having a sister. Oh, I do hope she's coming to the ranch!"
Mr. Carleton shook his head.
"Elsie and her mother were with me, but they have gone back to New York. ”

“ Marjorie spoke with forced cheerfulness and choked down a rising lump in her throat. "You see, it isn't like going to live among strangers," she went on, as much for the sake of reassuring herself as her friend. "I shall be with my own [76] uncle and aunt, and then there will be Elsie."
"Perhaps you won't like Elsie; you've never seen her."
"Why, of course I shall like her. She's my own cousin, and only three months older than I am. I have always thought that having a cousin was the next best thing to having a sister."
"I wonder if I ever had a sister," Undine remarked irrelevantly. ”

“ I try to think that perhaps it's all for the best, and that if I really left you all, and went away to school, I might have died of homesickness. But when I read that story, and thought of all the people and things there are in the world that I've never seen, it was just a little bit hard to feel cheerful. Mother teaches me all she can, and so do you and Father, but I'm fourteen and a half, and I hate to think of growing up without any real education. ”