Grace laid a gentle hand on hers, and pressed it sympathetically.
"Rich people don't understand," Marigold continued tremulously; "they don't know what it is like to be poor! Even Aunt Mary and Aunt Pamela—"
She stopped abruptly, suddenly remembering that she ought not to mention the relations that existed between her mother and aunts to a comparative stranger.
"God understands," Grace said earnestly; "what does it matter about others, if He knows?"
Marigold's face cleared, and a sunny smile chased all signs of sorrow from her face.
"Ah, that is what mother says!" she answered brightly.
From that time the little girl's school-life was happier. There sprang up between her and Grace Long a friendship which caused some astonishment, on account of the difference in their respective ages. Muriel Wake showed no further animosity towards Marigold, but the two children rarely spoke, and avoided each other's company as much as possible. Marigold's aunts were pleased to find that she was happy at school, and that she was attentive to her duties. They were very kind to her, taking her little excursions into the country on Saturday afternoons, and allowing her to visit those of her schoolfellows with whom she was on friendly terms; consequently, though the little girl worked hard, she had plenty of recreation, and grew rosy-cheeked and plump.
"I wonder what her mother would think of her now?" Miss Holcroft could not refrain from remarking to her sister one day. Marigold was not present, but Miss Pamela's face darkened, as she made reply—
"Why do you allow your mind to dwell on that woman? She is not likely to see Marigold for some time to come!"
"No. But I was thinking how pleased she would be to know that the dear child has so greatly improved in every way since she came to us. See how she has grown, and what a healthy colour she has! When she first arrived we were struck with her fragile appearance. Then, too, she seems as happy as the day is long."