As a matter of fact there was a piano at Hunters' Brae, but it was kept in the room that had been her mother's—a room that Marjory was not allowed to enter. For reasons of his own the doctor had forbidden Marjory to go into it. She should do so on her fifteenth birthday, but not before. Lisbeth went in once a week with pail, broom, and duster, but she always carefully locked the door behind her, and Marjory knew nothing of the room or its contents. "Some bonnie day," was all that the old woman would say when she questioned her.
"It seems a shame you can't be made a lady of too."
"I can be a lady without going to school," said Marjory sulkily.
The other looked at her in surprise.
"Oh no, you can't. Who is there to teach you? You have to learn manners and deportment and accomplishments and all that sort of thing first. I don't see that you've got any chance here, you poor little thing," patronizingly.
"I don't care," said Marjory, knowing in her heart that she did care beyond everything, and that her greatest desire was to learn all sorts of things. "I don't care a pin," she repeated.
"Yes, you do, or you wouldn't get so red," said Mary Ann provokingly. Then she continued, "Your uncle's queer, isn't he?"
"What do you mean by 'queer'?"
"Well—queer—in his head, you know. People say he is, and, anyhow, he does queer things—keeping that room shut up, and all that. I should say he must be a little bit mad."