"Well, missy, my master is in the right. Little ladies do themselves no good when they make friends and equals of children like Susy. They do themselves no good, and they do still more harm to the poor children, whose heads get filled up with vain thoughts. But that's neither here nor there, Miss Maggie, in the present case. Illness alters everything, and levels all ranks, and if Miss Ermengarde was at home, she ought to go and see Susy, and that without a minute's delay, and your good father would be the very first to tell her so, Miss Maggie."
"Then I know what I'll do," said Marjorie. "I'll go straight away this minute to Miss Nelson, and ask her if I may go and see Susy. I dare say she'll let me—I'll try what I can do, anyhow. You run down and tell Mrs. Collins, Hudson. I'm not Ermie, but I dare say Susy would rather see me than no one."
Miss Nelson was writing letters in her own room, when Marjorie with a flushed eager face burst in upon her. She made her request with great earnestness. Miss Nelson listened anxiously.
"I will see Mrs. Collins," she said at last. The poor woman was brought up to the governess's room, and at sight of her evident grief Miss Nelson at once saw that she must act on her own independent judgment, and explain matters by and by to Mr. Wilton.
"Ermengarde is away," she said to Mrs. Collins, "but if the case is really serious, she can be sent for, and in the meantime I will take Marjorie myself to the cottage, and if your little girl wishes to see her, she can do so. Fetch your hat, Marjorie, dear, and a warm wrap, for the dews are heavy to-night."
Marjorie was not long in getting herself ready, and twenty minutes later the poor anxious mother and her two visitors found themselves in the cottage.
"Look here, Mrs. Collins," said Marjorie, the moment they entered the house. "I want you not to tell Susy I have come. I'd like to slip upstairs very gently, and just see if I can do anything for her. I'll promise to be awfully quiet, and not to do her a scrap of harm."
Mrs. Collins hesitated for a moment. Marjorie was not the Miss Wilton Susy was asking for, and she feared exciting the poor refractory little girl by not carrying out her wishes exactly. But as Susy's tired feverish voice was distinctly heard in the upper room, and as Miss Nelson said, "I think you can fully trust Marjorie; she is a most tender little nurse," Mrs. Collins yielded.
"You must do as you think best, miss," she said.
Marjorie did not wait for another word. She ran lightly up the narrow stairs, and entered the room where the sick child was sitting up in bed.