Jennie was playfully turned around as an automaton in a shop window, and at length breaking forth into a merry laugh, exclaimed, "You saucy minx, please turn your wit upon some other object."
And thus amid fun, frolic and gaiety, Marguerite's visit came to an end, and on the last eve to be spent at Gladswood, the girls are seated in the old summer house enjoying an uninterrupted chat—that blissful recreation peculiar to each and every maiden.
"Madge, I am almost sorry that you came," said Jennie, taking the pretty white hand within her own. "Promise me that you will come while Mr. Lawson is here," cried the girl in a vehement and almost determined manner, while the large, brown eyes had a far-off look that she tried hard to conceal.
"It is impossible, Jennie; besides, you must not mention the matter again."
Marguerite's voice was clear and bird-like, but Jennie Montgomery fancied she felt a slight tremor in the last words uttered, and with that intuitive caution characteristic of her mother pressed the subject no further, and the warm-hearted maiden felt keenly her utter helplessness to render her companion any sympathy.
"Let us go in, Cousin Jennie," said Marguerite, in tender tones that seemed as reproach to the high-minded girl, but she heeded not, and playfully putting her arm around her companion's waist, led her into the parlor, where the rest of the family were seated around awaiting their appearance.
"Marguerite is too proud," murmured Jennie, as she sought her own room on returning from seeing her fair cousin aboard the down accommodation train which was to carry her homewards.
"Oh, my loving Marguerite, I know more than you think. I could indeed tell you much that you little dream of, but why is it thus?" and humming an old-fashioned air Jennie mechanically went back to her household duties, as if all the world were sunshine and brightness, and not a troubled thought had ever found a resting-place within her mind.