"Not very hard," replied her mother, smiling. "I explained to him that we always keep our Sundays quietly, enjoying the day of rest, but that at the same time we like it to be bright and happy; and when I told him that the pleasure of our friends' company would greatly add to the brightness and happiness, he said 'yes' for Marjory, and promised to come himself."
When they arrived at Braeside they found the doctor already there. Mr. Forester and he had established themselves under a shady tree on the lawn, both looking the picture of comfort, smoking their pipes, and talking together like old friends.
Marjory felt almost bewildered by the turn things had taken. Truly they were different, both for herself and for her uncle.
Tea was brought into the garden, and they all had it together, the girls waiting upon their elders. It was all so peaceful and happy that Marjory found it hard to tear herself away when the time came, but she consoled herself with the thought that there was to-morrow to look forward to now. Hitherto she had always disliked Monday. It was the day for the washing to be counted, for one thing, and Lisbeth was always rather flustered in consequence, although the counting of it was all she had to do, as a woman from the village came to do the actual washing. Then there was the sermon to write and her wardrobe and drawers to tidy. Lisbeth was very strict about the tidying. All these things gave Monday an atmosphere prosaic in the extreme in Marjory's opinion. Now it would be different; she could look forward to it because there would be Blanche to compare notes with. She would make haste and finish her duties, and then they could go off into the woods or on to the moor, as free as air, and with no one to interfere with them. She went to bed full of these plans, and feeling her heart overflowing with gratitude to the great and loving Father who had given her such happiness.
CHAPTER VIII.
THE SECRET CHAMBER.
"'Tis now the very witching hour of night."
Shakespeare.
Next morning, directly after breakfast, Marjory went as usual to her room to signal to Blanche. Blanche was already at her window, waving wildly with a handkerchief in each hand, which meant might she come up at once. Marjory, all eagerness and excitement, waved back "yes," wondering what could be the reason for such an early visit. She was just going to run down the garden to meet Blanche when she heard Lisbeth's voice calling, "Hae ye coontit yer claes, Marjory? Jessie's waitin'." She hastily collected her things together, and wrote, not in her best writing, the list which Lisbeth always insisted upon, and which Marjory always argued was quite unnecessary, as the clothes were washed at home, and there was no other girl of her size at Hunters' Brae. Lisbeth remained firm, and every week the list was made. Marjory was just adding the last item when she heard Blanche's voice downstairs asking breathlessly where she was. "Coming!" she cried, and rushed downstairs, two steps at a time, to find Blanche capering up and down with excitement.