"All right," said Marjorie; "I'll come in just a minute. I must leave a note for Aunt Julia in case she should get home before I do."
Marjorie found Mrs. Randolph sitting in an arm-chair by the fire, looking rather pale and tired, but her greeting to the girl was just as kind and cheerful as usual, and Marjorie hoped that it was only in her imagination that she saw that sad, wistful expression in her kind friend's eyes.
"Now sit down and tell me about all you have been doing," said Mrs. Randolph, when the first greetings had been exchanged. "I love to hear about the things girls are interested in. My little Barbara used to tell me of all her good times as well as her troubles. I am so glad you have brought your work—what are you making?"
"A shawl for my aunt's Christmas present; one of the girls at school taught me the stitch, and I think it's going to be very pretty. I shall have to work hard, though, to finish it in time. Do you like the color?"
"Very much," said Mrs. Randolph. "I suppose this will be your first Christmas away from home?"
A shadow crossed Marjorie's bright face. "I try not to think of it," she said. "It's going to be pretty hard, but every one has been so kind, and Uncle Henry and Aunt Julia are doing so much for me, that it wouldn't be right to be unhappy. I think perhaps if I keep very busy I shall manage to get on all right. Aunt Jessie says that's a good way of making the best of things that can't be helped."
Mrs. Randolph said nothing, but the look she gave Marjorie was such an understanding one that the girl's heart warmed towards her more and more. The next half-hour slipped away very pleasantly. Mrs. Randolph was one of those rare people who have the power of drawing others out, and Marjorie chatted away to her of school and school-friends, and all the little unimportant happenings of her New York life, with almost as much freedom as she would have talked to her mother or aunt. Then Mrs. Randolph asked her if she liked reading aloud, and when Marjorie assured her that she had read a great deal to Aunt Jessie, she explained that, owing to a cold in her eyes, she had not been able to read herself for several days. Marjorie was delighted to be of real use, and they were soon deep in an interesting story. Marjorie read aloud very well, and it was an accomplishment of which she was rather proud.
At five o'clock Beverly, who had gone to his room to "cram," as he expressed it, returned, and his mother rang the bell for tea.
"Marjorie and I have had a delightful afternoon," she said; "she seems to be almost as fond of reading aloud as I am of listening. I am going to be very selfish and ask her to come again to-morrow, provided she can spare the time. The doctor doesn't want me to use my eyes much for several days."
"I shall just love to come," declared Marjorie eagerly, "and I can easily manage it. My lessons aren't very hard, and I always have a good deal of time to myself every day."