CHAPTER XII.
MARJORY KEEPS A SECRET.
"She doeth little kindnesses
Which most leave undone, or despise;
For naught that sets one heart at ease,
And giveth happiness or peace,
Is low esteemed in her eyes."
James Russell Lowell.
Marjory had not thought of the possibility of the search-party being so near, and Mr. Forester's sudden appearance quite bewildered her for a moment. The men came crowding up, looking curiously at her.
She tried to free herself from Mr. Forester's grasp.
"No, you don't, my lady," said he, laughing, and tightening his hold upon her arm. "Having found you, I am responsible for you; besides, I don't approve of girls wandering about in the dark like this without giving an account of themselves."
"I'm not accountable to you, anyway," replied Marjory, her temper rising.
"Highty-tighty! so we're going to ride the high horse, eh? Well, I consider it my duty to take you home and report upon your unlawful doings." And, still holding Marjory's arm, he began to walk towards the house. Silky, hearing the strange footsteps and voices, barked angrily; and Dr. Hunter, disturbed by the unusual commotion, came out of his study. Seeing that the dog seemed anxious to go out by the garden door, he opened it just as Mr. Forester and Marjory reached it.
Mr. Forester had only been teasing Marjory, and had not really meant to get her into trouble. He had intended to see her safely home and then to leave her, but it was too late now.
The doctor, much surprised, called out, "Hallo, Marjory! where have you been, and who's this with you?—Why, Forester, how do you do? Come in. But what is the meaning of it all?"