"And now, chicks, look at that slanting, golden light through the trees. That means tea-time, and homeward-bound!"
CHAPTER II.
It was a tired and homesick little girl that Mr. Merrithew helped out of the coach and led up the steps of his house, about a fortnight after our story opens. The journey from Montreal had been long and lonely, the parting from her parents hard, and the thought of meeting the unknown relatives had weighed upon her mind and helped to make her unusually subdued. But when the door of the Big Brick House (which had been named by the neighbours when it was the only brick house on the street, and the largest one in town) opened, and her aunt's motherly arms closed around her, while Marjorie's rosy, laughing face and Jackie's fair, cherubic one beamed on her in greeting, her spirits began to revive. The greeting was so warm and kind, and the joy at her coming so genuine, that her fatigue seemed turned, as by magic, to a pleasant restfulness, and her homesickness was lost in this bright home atmosphere.
Mrs. Merrithew took the little newcomer to her room, had her trunks settled conveniently, and then left her to prepare for the late tea which was waiting for them all. When Dora was ready, she sat down in the little armchair that stood near a table piled with books, and looked about her contentedly.
There was an air of solid comfort and cosiness about this house that rested her. This room—which her aunt had told her was just opposite Marjorie's—was all furnished in the softest shades of brown and blue, her favourite colours. The carpet was brown, with a very small spray of blue here and there; the wallpaper was lighter, almost creamy, brown, with a dainty harebell pattern, and the curtains had a rich brown background with various Persian stripes, in which blue and cream and gold predominated. The bed, to her great delight, had a top-piece, and a canopy of blue-flowered chintz, and the little dressing-table was draped to match it. Just over the side of the bed was a book-shelf, quite empty, waiting for her favourite books. While she sat and looked about in admiration, the door was pushed gently open, and a plump maltese kitten came in, gazed at her doubtfully a moment, and then climbed on her lap. Then Marjorie's bright face appeared at the door, and, "May I come in?" she asked.
"Oh, please do," Dora cried. "Kitty has made friends with me already, and I think that must be a good omen."
Marjorie laughed, as she patted the little bunch of blue-gray fur in Dora's lap.
"Jackie has made friends with you already," she said, "and I think that is a better omen still. He told mother he thought you were 'the beautifulest girl he ever saw.'"