But Marjory, since her better understanding of her uncle, had grown very sensitive to his moods and feelings, and she felt a shadow of displeasure in spite of his caresses. She was too weak and tired to talk, and after he left her she lay dreaming and thinking and wishing that he knew. She thought of Blanche too, and the look that had passed between them when the boat started. This was the first real trouble there had been since their friendship began. How she wished that she could explain everything!
But help came in the person of Dr. Morison, who called again in the evening to see how his patient was getting on. He was able to tell the doctor the whole story, with those particulars which poor old Peter did not know. Marjory was greatly relieved when her uncle said to her, "Dr. Morison has told me all about it. You're a good girl, Marjory, and I'm proud of you."
Marjory was greatly soothed and comforted by these words, and though she was very wakeful through the night, her mind was at rest.
Next morning Blanche and Maud came to see her, tearful and sorry for the trouble they had thoughtlessly caused. Blanche admitted that at first she had blamed Marjory and thought it selfish of her not to go with them, but that she knew now that Marjory had been right in obeying her uncle.
"But what I think so awfully hard is that we were the ones who deserved to suffer, and yet you who were so good and brave have to be ill like this." And Maud burst into tears. "It was only yesterday," she continued, between her sobs, "that mother remarked how healthy and rosy you looked, and now you are so pale; I can't bear it." And she hid her face in her hands.
"Please don't cry," Marjory said. "I'm not very ill, you know; only Dr. Morison says I shall have to lie down a lot until I get quite all right again. Everybody is so kind to me, it's not a bit hard. Please don't cry." And she stretched out her hand towards Maud, who seized it and covered it with impulsive kisses.
"I hope I shall never, never do such a thing again," said Maud. "It was all through me wanting my own way; it's like a sort of mania that gets hold of me sometimes. Oh, I do feel such a beast, I can't bear myself; and poor mother is so cut up about it, and talked to me so this morning. She's awful sweet, my mother, really, though she does forget so, and says such funny things."
The girls' visit did not last long, as Marjory was to be kept quiet for a few days. They had all been wondering who the friendly stranger could be who had helped them the day before, but no one had been able to give any information about him.
Soon after the girls left, Dr. Hunter came into Marjory's room, his face beaming with pleasure.
"There are visitors downstairs," he said, "but I'm afraid I mustn't let them come to see you to-day; perhaps they could come again to-morrow. Who do you think they are?"