"You will. There!" as a clatter of earth fell over and around the busy baby. "Didn't I tell you so?"
Orme looked round, his chubby moon-face a surprised interrogation. Then as fast as he could trot, he went off to his mother. To her he imparted the information that the "'ky had fell, an' it was a dirty 'ky."
It was after they had tired themselves with digging that the four had sought Marjorie and a fairy story. In the middle of this, when the prince and the heroine were engaged in a customary understanding, Marjorie suddenly broke off in her narrative and relapsed into thought.
Marjorie suddenly broke off in her narrative.
"Seems, Margie, as if you felt dreffle 'bout something," said David.
Marjorie did not reply. Her thoughts had ascended the hill, and there was a dreamy, unseeing look in her eyes.
Almost every day Ross and Orme go and stamp upon the mound of earth in the corner of the garden, the monument of the boys' enterprise. Ross does it out of hatred, and Orme in the hope of bringing down the "ky."
But to Marjorie that mound tells a tale of love, found and won—and mistakes buried, happily before it was too late. Sometimes her young brothers wonder at some unlooked-for expression of affection, and look at her reproachfully, resenting the sudden kiss. Sandy one day said to her—