The next half-hour was a very pleasant one. Mrs. Randolph would not allow the girl to go back to her own apartment until the pain in her wrist had subsided, and she made her lie on the sofa, and petted her in a way that recalled Mother and Aunt Jessie so strongly that Marjorie had some difficulty in keeping back the homesick tears. Almost before she knew it, she was chatting away to this new acquaintance as if they had been old friends.
"I hope I shall get accustomed to New York ways soon," she said humbly. "I am afraid I make a great many mistakes, and they distress my aunt and cousin very much. You see, it is all so different on the ranch. I suppose your son told you how I spoke to him that morning in the park, and asked him to take me home. It seemed quite a natural thing to do, because I knew he lived in this hotel, but Aunt Julia was dreadfully shocked."
Mrs. Randolph laughed.
"Beverly was not at all shocked," she said. "He and I have rather old-fashioned ideas about some things; we like little girls to be natural."
"I am so glad you think me a little girl still," said Marjorie in a sudden burst of confidence. "All the girls here seem so grown-up, and I don't want to grow up just yet; I am only fourteen."
"My little girl would have been just about your age if she had lived," said Mrs. Randolph, with a rather sad smile. "I am sure I should not have begun to think of her as grown-up yet."
Marjorie was interested. She would have liked to ask Mrs. Randolph about her little girl, but feared the subject might be a painful one, and just that moment Beverly came back, and the conversation turned on other matters. In a little while Marjorie rose to go.
"You have been very kind to me," she said to Mrs. Randolph. "My wrist feels ever so much better already. I do hope I haven't been a bother."
"Not a bit of it," Mrs. Randolph declared, laughing. "On the contrary, I have enjoyed your call very much, and I hope you will come often, for I am very fond of little girls. By the way, what are you going to do to-morrow?"
"Oh, I don't know," said Marjorie; "walk and read and study, I suppose. Aunt Julia said I might drive in the afternoon, but the horses go so slowly I always feel as though I should like to get out of the carriage and run. Galloping over the prairie is much more fun."