"I don't think you would find that such a very great privilege," said Marion, in rather an injured tone, for Miss Oliver was not in her good books just now. "Miss Oliver knows enough, I dare say, but—However, there is no use in talking; she is pope in Holford just now, and it is high treason to say a word against her, but she isn't the teacher I should go to if I had my choice. I think she is very unsympathetic and tyrannical."
A shrewd little smile passed over Therese's averted face. She had a pretty good guess as to the cause of Marion's detention, but her instinctive good manners prevented her alluding to the matter.
"I would so like to go to school," said she, shifting her basket from one arm to the other; "and every one allows that Miss Oliver is a good teacher. But here we are at your door; or gate, rather. Good-night, Marion, and pleasant dreams." And Therese walked gayly on singing her little French song.
"How bright she is! It is a shame she should not go to school if she wants to go so much. I think Miss Oliver might take her for nothing, or Mrs. Tremaine might send her. I am sure she is rich enough. If I had as much money as they, I would seek out all the poor girls of talent, and educate them in the way best fitted to bring out their capacity. I would give Therese a musical education, and then she might come out and succeed, like Jenny Lind or Sontag, and I would sit in my private box and enjoy it all—her success and her gratitude. Oh, it would be lovely!"
Thus mused Marion as she walked up the lane which led to the back door of the McGregor place. And all the time it never occurred to her that she might have conferred a present and a very substantial benefit on Therese by helping her carry her heavy basket.
"You are late, lassie," said Miss Baby, kindly, meeting her at the door and relieving her of her books and basket. "What kept you so long?"
"I had something to do after school," answered Marion, blushing a little as she felt that this was not exactly a true account of the matter.
"Did you go to the post-office?"
"No; I was so late, and I thought Uncle Alick would have been down."
"You might know he would not be down in time for the mail without calling for you," said Miss Baby, "and it would not have taken ten minutes to run round by Whitaker's. And your grandfather's medicine; did you get that?" Then, as Marion made no reply, "Oh, Marie, that is too bad; when you came right by the doctor's door, and I gave you such a charge about it. What were you thinking of?"