Blanche's Aunt Katharine looked at her critically. "I suppose your mother plaits your hair in that pigtail to save trouble, but they are not worn in town, you know."
"My mother is dead," said Marjory stolidly.
"Dear, dear, yes, of course, now I remember Rose—that's Mrs. Forester, you know—Rose did say something to that effect, but my memory fails me so often; it is a great affliction. Well, it's a good thing your poor father has you left to comfort him. My darling Maud is my one comfort, I'm sure, while her father is away in those dreadful foreign places. Perhaps I spoil her a little," complacently; "but then I dare say," playfully, "that your father spoils you."
"I haven't got a father either," said poor Marjory dully.
Mrs. Hilary carefully adjusted her gold-rimmed eyeglasses, and looked at Marjory over the top of them.
"Well, to be sure, I certainly understood—at least I thought—but there, my memory does fail me at times; still, I was certainly under the impression that your father was Dr. Hunter—the great Dr. Hunter."
"No, he is my uncle; my name is Davidson," explained Marjory.
"Oh yes, yes, to be sure, now I come to think of it, Rose did say something about it, and I remember wondering whether you belonged to the Davidsons, you know."
"I don't know," said Marjory doubtfully, wishing that Blanche and Maud would come to her rescue.
"I must look it up for you, dear child. It is such a comfort to know that one belongs to the branch of a family, you know. As I tell Maud, it makes all the difference to a young girl in these days when mere money, that root of all evil, is so much thought of; not but that it is a comfort too, in its way—in its way," she continued thoughtfully; "but at this time of year one ought to think of doing little kindnesses, leaving money out of the question—I mean we should not let it be our sole comfort at such a time, you understand."