Hunters Marjory | Page 8

I have got some delightful news for you. Only to-day your uncle and I have been making plans for you to share in Blanche's lessons. You are to learn everything that she does, including French and music," with a smile at the recollection of her battle against the doctor's prejudices.
A breathless "oh" was all that Marjory could say.
Mrs. Forester continued,--
"Blanche has a very good, kind governess. Unfortunately, she has rather an ugly name, and it may make you smile. It is Waspe--W, a, s, p, e--not pretty, is it? But she is as sweet as she can be, and very accomplished, and Blanche gets on nicely with her. It will be much more interesting for Blanche to have some one to share her lessons with, and good for you too, won't it?"
"Oh, indeed it will!" replied Marjory, bewildered by this wonderful piece of news.
"And in return for this I want you to teach Blanche all you can."
"I?" asked Marjory in surprise.
"Yes, you," with a smile at the girl's puzzled expression. "Blanche is a little too much like her name at present; she isn't very strong. Living in London didn't suit her, and it is for her sake that we have come to live here. I want you to show her all your favourite nooks and corners, to teach her all you know about the birds and flowers, and to let her help you in your garden. Will you do this, and keep her out of doors as much as you can?"
"I shall love it!" cried Marjory emphatically. "It's like a dream, and seems too good to be true."
"Now, my child," continued Mrs. Forester seriously, "listen to me. I think you have been doing your uncle a great injustice. You say you called him unkind and cruel; he is neither the one nor the other."
"I know," replied Marjory in a low voice.
"He is very fond of you," said Mrs. Forester.
Marjory looked up quickly.
"He never says so," she objected.
"Ah!" said Mrs. Forester, "now we have got to the root of the whole matter. So, then, just because her uncle doesn't say, 'Marjory, I am very fond of you,' therefore Marjory thinks that he doesn't care for her very much."
Marjory nodded.
"My dear child, you never made a greater mistake. It is not in your uncle's nature to say much; he is content with doing things for you. This afternoon he talked of nothing but his plans for you, his ideas for your education--how his first care has been that you should grow strong and healthy amongst those outdoor things that you love. For your sake he has been content to stay in this obscure place, when he would receive the recognition he is entitled to if he went more into the world. His very meals he takes at times which he considers best for you. Look at your frock. Perhaps you don't think much of it, but let me tell you it is made of the very best tweed that Scotland can produce. Your boots are strong and sensible-looking, but they are of the finest quality of leather; your stockings are the best that money can buy. Let me see your handkerchief. Ah! I thought so," as Marjory obediently produced from her pocket the little hard, wet ball her tears had made. "This is a plain handkerchief, but so fine that it is fit for a princess to use. I don't suppose you ever thought about these things; but it must mean a great deal of trouble and care to your uncle to get them for you. He told me he looks after your wardrobe himself. Now, haven't I proved that he thinks about you a great deal?"
Marjory nodded.
"Don't you believe that, even if your mother had not left you provided for, your uncle would have been glad to keep you--that he would never have felt you a burden?"
"I don't know," said Marjory slowly. She was beginning to see her uncle in a new light, but she could not see him as he really was just yet.
"Well, you will know some day. There are many things which you are too young to understand, and you must try to trust in your uncle's knowing what is best for you in the matter of your father, who will return to you some day, I hope."
"Oh! do you really think that is possible?" cried Marjory. "Could it ever happen?"
"Certainly it might. I don't see any reason at all why you shouldn't hope for his coming. And if you will promise to be very patient, and to hope for the best, I will tell you something very nice that I heard said about your father a little while ago."
Marjory's eyes grew big with wonder. "Oh, do tell me. Indeed I will try to be patient."
"Well, an old