"Then you are sorry that you used an unbecoming word, but you still think Mary Ann richly deserved some punishment for her unkind words?"
"Yes, that's just it," said Marjory, wondering how it was that Mrs. Forester understood her so well.
"But you still feel uncomfortable when you think about Mary Ann?"
"Yes."
"Well, if I were you, I should go to Mary Ann and say, 'I am sorry I used an ugly word to you, but I still think you were very unkind in what you said.' Then, if she is a nice girl, she will say she wishes she hadn't said what she did; and if not—well, you must just leave it, dear. I will go with you if you like. We can all drive to the village to-morrow afternoon."
"Oh, how good of you! Thank you so much." And Marjory, much relieved, went back to Blanche.
As a matter of fact Mrs. Forester had her own reasons for going herself with Marjory, for that very afternoon Mrs. Smylie, by way of ingratiating herself with the newcomer, had been making unkind remarks about Marjory and her bringing-up, and warning Mrs. Forester that she would not be a suitable companion for her daughter. Mrs. Forester had known very well how to reply to these statements, but she thought it would be a very good thing to show the Smylies that their spiteful, unkind words had no weight with her.
Mrs. Smylie's ambition knew no bounds as far as her daughter was concerned. She was conscious of the fact that she herself was a plain, ordinary, country woman, and would never be anything else; but with her daughter it was different. With her looks and education she ought to be able to associate with the best of people. Such was this foolish mother's dream, and she had thought to curry favour with the lady of Braeside by her remarks on what she considered should be the behaviour of a well-brought-up young lady, and what she had always aimed at in the education of her daughter. Mary Ann would have laughed could she have read her mother's mind and seen to what heights her ambition rose.
Marjory forgot about her for the time being. Blanche had so many treasures to show her and so much to say to her that the afternoon passed all too quickly.
They had tea by themselves in the room Mrs. Forester had chosen as a schoolroom—comfortable and cheerful, with windows looking over the garden. A new set of shelves had been put up, and all Blanche's books were arranged on them—her story books on the top and her lesson books on the lower shelves.