Marjorie turned round and gave her a kiss.
"Thank you, dear," she said. "I do like it very much."
But, in spite of this kindly thought on Patty's part, it was hard for Marjorie to resist the feeling of home-sickness which crept over her when she was left alone. How could she ever live in such surroundings, so utterly different from everything to which she had been accustomed? But she determined to be brave and hopeful, and went downstairs to find tea ready for her in the dining-room. The cloth was dirty and the food not tempting, but Patty, who poured out the tea, seemed so ashamed of it all, and so anxious that she should have what she wanted, that she felt obliged to eat as much as she could, lest she should be disappointed.
After tea Mr. Holtby came in, a tall silent man, with sandy hair and a most worried expression on his face.
"Glad to see you, Miss Douglas. I hope Patty has taken care of you. Patty, I want some stamps. Just put on your hat and get some."
Without a word Patty set out in the darkness, and soon returned with what he wanted.
"Patty, those boys are quarrelling in the next room; go and see what's the matter," said her father.
"I expect Patty is tired," said Marjorie; "I'll go."
The boys stopped quarrelling when Marjorie entered, and a packet of chocolates which she brought from her pocket soon restored harmony in the back sitting-room, as it was called. She then went up to Mrs. Holtby, that she might learn what she wanted her to do.
Marjorie found that Mrs. Holtby was superior in many ways to her husband, a gentle, kindhearted woman, but borne down by ill-health and the cares of her large family. Her father had been a land-agent, and she had lived in a lonely place in Shropshire, and had known far better days. Marjorie felt sorry for her and anxious to help her.