"All right," she said, "I'll see about it, but it will take longer to wait for a team to be hitched up."
"That can't be helped. I'm afraid I'm not equal to another five miles on foot. Do you know Mr. Graham?"
"Of course I do," she said in her frank, friendly way; "he's my father."
"Your father!" repeated the gentleman, his face lighting up; "why, you don't mean to tell me you are little Marjorie?"
"I'm Marjorie Graham, but I'm not very little. I'm five feet, three, and I was fourteen last March."
"Well, you were about two feet, three when I last saw you," said the gentleman, smiling; "so you must forgive me for not recognizing you at once. Have you ever heard of your uncle Henry Carleton?"
With a joyous exclamation, impulsive Marjorie sprang from her pony and leaving the faithful Roland to his own devices, rushed to her uncle's side, holding out both hands.
"Of course I have!" she cried, lifting her radiant face for the expected kiss. "Oh, Uncle Henry, I'm so glad you've come to see us at last; Mother will be so happy."
Although somewhat surprised by the warmth of this greeting, Mr. Carleton was not at all displeased. Indeed, he was smiling very pleasantly by the time he had given his niece the kiss she was evidently expecting, and his face softened as he regarded her more attentively.