Marjorie talked to her for some time longer, and the old woman cried very much, and said again and again that she wanted to tell her, but she couldn't, no, she couldn't. At last Marjorie was obliged to leave her; she felt very sorry for her, and when she knelt to pray before getting into bed, she prayed very earnestly for the poor ignorant old woman who was so fast passing away, that she might find comfort and peace before the end came.
Marjorie was tired that night, and soon fell asleep. She was dreaming that she was in Borrowdale, sitting on a stone by the river, when suddenly a pebble hit the rock on which she was perched, and she looked up to see Louis's merry face on the bank above her. Then another pebble came, and she woke. No, she was not in Borrowdale, but in her little bedroom in Daisy Bank. What was that noise, then? Some one was throwing pebbles at her window! She was very much startled, but got out of bed and looked out. It was quite dark, and she could see no one. She opened her window a little way and said, "Who is there?"
"It's me, Miss," said old Enoch's voice. "Poor Mother Hotchkiss is much worse, and she wouldn't give us any peace till we said we would fetch you. She says she must see you, and she can't die happy till she has."
"Who is with her, Enoch?"
"Peggy Jones, that's Anna Maria's mother; but I've been there the last hour. They fetched me. See?"
"I'll come, Enoch."
"I'll wait for you, Miss, and take you across," he said.
Marjorie dressed quickly, and knocking at Mr. and Mrs. Holtby's door, she explained where she was going and why. Mr. Holtby got up and let her out, and then, guided through the darkness by old Enoch, she made her way to the curious old house.
Marjorie found Mrs. Hotchkiss far more ill than when she had left her that afternoon, but she raised herself in bed when Marjorie went in, and taking her hand, she held it between both her own.
"That's right, dear!" she whispered. "I've been just longing for you to come. Send them out, and I'll tell you."