ely to forget it.

"Should tresses dark a maiden mark,
Her beloved must cross the sea."

The words repeated themselves over and over again in her head. She could
not get rid of them, or of the thoughts and fancies to which they gave
rise.

Marjory did not see the Braeside visitors till the Sunday morning, when
they met in the churchyard. Mrs. Hilary Forester was a very grand
personage, but looked good-natured. Her daughter Maud, whom she
considered to be little short of an angel, certainly did not look like
one just then. Something must have put her out that morning, for the
look she gave Marjory as the introductions were made was not by any
means calculated to make a good impression upon that young person,
already predisposed to dislike the new arrival.

Marjory saw the eyes of mother and daughter travel over her person from
head to foot--or rather, as she expressed it to herself, from hat to
shoes--and she felt as if that cold scrutiny would shrivel her up. She
herself, although she did not stare, quickly took in the details of Mrs.
Hilary Forester's very fashionable attire. She had never seen anything
like it in Heathermuir before. The ladies at Morristown always seemed to
her to be very grandly dressed, but nothing like this.

"I wonder if she is at all religious," was Marjory's mental comment. To
her mind, a display of finery was not compatible with what she called
religion.

Then her eyes fell upon Blanche's mother. She too was richly dressed,
but Marjory knew without being told that her clothes were in much better
taste than those of her visitor. Still, Marjory had never looked upon
Mrs. Forester as very religious; for the child had somehow come to
understand the word as being synonymous with sour looks, long faces,
unattractive clothes, and disapproval of most pleasant things. Mrs.
Forester was sweet and good and kind, and much nicer than any of the
people whom Lisbeth had pointed out to her as "releegious."

Marjory had yet to learn that religion is a life, not a profession; that
in its reality it is a wellspring of cheerfulness, of love and charity
for others, of praise and thanksgiving--a life which, instead of
holding itself aloof from the world as a wicked place, lives in it,
works for its good, believing that nothing which God has created can be
altogether wicked. Mrs. Forester and Miss Waspe were gradually
suggesting these new ideas to the girl, more perhaps by example than by
precept.

M