Mrs. Graham and Miss Jessie both smiled, and then Mrs. Graham said she must obey the doctor's instructions, and see that her sister-in-law was kept quiet, and went to sleep early.
Marjorie and her mother had a long talk that night, after Aunt Jessie was asleep, and the girl opened her heart as she had not done since leaving home, and Mrs. Graham learned of many things that she had not been told in letters.
"I think Elsie really does like me now," finished Marjorie, when she had told of the many heartaches caused by the fear that her cousin did not like her. "She has been very sweet since I came back from Virginia, and just as kind and sympathetic as she could be."
Mrs. Graham looked pleased.
"Elsie has been spoiled," she said, "but I believe she has the right stuff in her, after all. I am glad you have told me all these things, dear, although I understand your reasons for not writing them. You have had a harder time than I suspected, but I don't think it has done you any harm. Do you know, Marjorie, I am inclined to be rather proud of my little girl?"
Those last words of her mother's filled Marjorie's cup to the brim, and I doubt if in all the great city that night, there were two happier beings than she and Barbara Randolph.
But it was not all happiness for Marjorie during the next few days. There followed hours of keen anxiety about Aunt Jessie, and for a time she forgot everything else while she waited in suspense for the verdict of the two great surgeons.
It was on an afternoon three days later, that she and Barbara sat together in the Randolphs' parlor, waiting for the news, which was to tell them whether Jessie Graham was to go through life a helpless cripple, or be restored to health and strength once more. The day before she had been taken to a private hospital, and the girls knew that an operation was to be performed that afternoon. They were alone, for Mrs. Graham was with her sister-in-law, and Mrs. Randolph—almost as anxious as the others—had gone to the hospital for news, promising to return as soon as possible. So Marjorie and Barbara sat together side by side on the sofa, holding each other's hands, and waiting in almost breathless suspense.
"Mother will be sure to let us know just as soon as there's anything to tell," whispered Barbara, anxious to cheer her friend. "She says Uncle George told her he was very hopeful."
"I know," said Marjorie, "he told us all so, but I can't help being frightened when I think of all it means to Aunt Jessie. She doesn't say much, but I know how she must feel. Just think how we would feel if we hadn't walked a step for more than eight years."