This plan appealed to Marjorie's imagination. It seemed grand and noble and heroic. Moreover, she was very much in earnest, and in this crisp, early morning she felt braver and stronger than she had felt the night before.
"Yes," she thought on, "I ought to earn my living,—for I've no claim on Fa—on Mr. Maynard. Perhaps these people here can find me some work to do. At any rate, I'll ask them."
She jumped up, and dressed herself, for she heard Mr. and Mrs. Geary already in the kitchen.
"My stars!" said her hostess, as she appeared; "how peart you look! Slept good, didn't ye?"
"Fine!" said Midget; "good-morning, both of you. Can't I help you?"
Mrs. Geary was transferring baked apples from a pan to an old cracked platter. Though unaccustomed to such work, Marjorie was quick and deft at anything, and in a moment she had the apples nicely arranged and placed on the table. She assisted in other ways, and chattered gayly as she worked.
Too gayly, Mrs. Geary thought, and she glanced knowingly at her husband, for they both realized Marjorie's flow of good spirits was forced,—not spontaneous.
After breakfast was over, Midget said, "Now, I'll wash up the dishes, Mrs. Geary, and you sit down and take a little rest."
"Land sake, child! I ain't tired. An' you ain't used to this work, I see you ain't."
"That doesn't matter. I can do it, and I must do something to pay for my board,—I have very little money."