r, and sorry when they began again. She had not that thirst
for knowledge which was almost a pain to Marjory, and for her part she
was inclined to wish that these lovely summer days might last, if not
for ever, at least for a very, very long time. She would be quite
content to do nothing but roam with Marjory about the park and gardens,
to visit Mrs. Shaw at the Low Farm, and to wander about the house at
Hunters' Brae, examining its many treasures. There was the loch, too,
and its pleasures of boating and bathing. Every day she went with her
mother and Marjory to bathe in the cool, clear water, and Marjory was
teaching her to swim. Then, in the evenings, sometimes the doctor would
take them for a sail, and she would sit wondering at the clever way in
which Marjory carried out his orders, pulling this rope, slackening the
other. It all seemed most bewildering to Blanche, and she admired her
capable friend the more. These holidays were full of delight. Lesson
hours would come again all too soon for Blanche.

September set in wet. Leaden skies and steady rain enveloped Heathermuir
in a mantle of gray. Marjory, accustomed to all weathers, went out and
about as usual. The first wet morning when she signalled to Blanche, the
reply was, "Can't come; you come here." So she went down to Braeside and
tried to persuade Mrs. Forester to allow Blanche to come out, for they
had looked forward to hearing Peter's story on the first wet day. But
Mrs. Forester was just as firm as the doctor had been during the
visiting time; she would not allow Blanche to go out in such rain in
case she should catch cold. Marjory suggested goloshes and a waterproof,
but Mrs. Forester remained unpersuaded. It was not until the rain had
continued for several days, and Blanche had grown very weary of her
imprisonment, that at last her mother allowed her to go to Hunters'
Brae. It was decided that she must drive both ways, and if she went into
the garden, it must only be to the wood-shed and back, and she must
wear a cloak and goloshes. Blanche felt a little ashamed of all these
precautions before Marjory's sturdy independence of the weather, and was
rather afraid that her friend might laugh at her for a "mollycoddle."
But that spirit of protection, with which Blanche's delicacy had
inspired Marjory, prevented any such expression on her part, and made
her only anxious that Mrs. Forester's instructions should be carefully
carried out.

They gave Lisbeth a me