Hunters Marjory

Hunter's Marjory, by Margaret
Bruce Clarke

The Project Gutenberg EBook of Hunter's Marjory, by Margaret Bruce
Clarke This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and
with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away
or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net
Title: Hunter's Marjory A Story for Girls
Author: Margaret Bruce Clarke
Release Date: January 3, 2007 [EBook #20258]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HUNTER'S
MARJORY ***

Produced by Louise Pryor, Janet Blenkinship and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net

[Illustration: "My dear child, what is wrong?"]

Hunter's Marjory
A STORY FOR GIRLS
BY
MARGARET BRUCE CLARKE
Author of "The Little Heiress," etc., etc.
THOMAS NELSON AND SONS London, Edinburgh, Dublin, and
New York 1907

CONTENTS.
I. Tears, 9 II. A Friend in Need, 23 III. Uncle and Niece, 38 IV. Tea at
Hunters' Brae, 52 V. A Visit to the Low Farm, 66 VI. Confidences, 79
VII. Marjory's Apology, 94 VIII. The Secret Chamber, 108 IX. Peter's
Story, 124 X. Marjory's Birthday, 144 XI. The Mysterious Stranger, 160
XII. Marjory keeps a Secret, 175 XIII. The Old Chest, 188 XIV. The
Prophecies, 202 XV. Twelfth Night, 218 XVI. Miss Waspe gives Good
Advice, 232 XVII. On the Loch, 246 XVIII. The Stranger Returns, 259
XIX. Important Letters, 274 XX. The Doctor's Disappointment, 288 XXI.
Hopes Realized, 300

HUNTER'S MARJORY.
CHAPTER I.
TEARS.
"A maid whom there were none to praise, And very few to
love."--WORDSWORTH.
Marjory was lying under a tree in the wood beyond her uncle's garden;
her head was hidden in the long, soft coat of a black retriever, and she

was crying--sobbing bitterly as if her heart would break, and as if
nothing could ever comfort her again.
"O Silky," she moaned, "if you only knew, you would be so sorry for
me."
The faithful dog knew that something very serious was the matter with
his young mistress, but he could only lick her hands and wag his tail as
well as he was able with her weight upon his body.
A fresh burst of grief shook the girl; and Silky, puzzled by this unusual
behaviour on Marjory's part, began to make little low whines himself.
Suddenly the whines were changed to growls, the dog shook himself
free from the girl's clasping arms and stood erect, staring into the wood
beyond.
Marjory was too much overcome by her grief to notice Silky's doings,
and it was not until she heard a voice quite close to her saying, "You
poor little thing, what is the matter?" that she realized that she was not
alone.
She looked up, startled, wondering who this stranger could be making
free of her uncle's woods. She saw a lady, tall and fair, looking kindly
at her, and a girl who might have stepped out of a picture, so sweet and
fresh and pretty she looked in her white frock and shady hat.
For one minute Marjory gazed at her in admiration, and then, conscious
of her tear-stained face and tumbled dress, let her head droop again and
sobbed afresh.
The lady spoke again: "My dear child, what is wrong?"
"Nothing," sobbed Marjory--"nothing that I can tell you."
She felt ashamed of being seen in such a plight, and had an instinctive
dislike of showing her feelings to a stranger, for Marjory was an
extremely shy girl.

"But, my dear," remonstrated the lady, "I cannot leave you like this;
besides," with a smile most winning, if only Marjory could have seen it,
"I believe you are trespassing upon our newly-acquired property."
Marjory raised her head at this, and said quickly, and perhaps just a
little proudly,--
"Oh no, I'm not; this is my uncle's ground."
"Oh dear; then Blanche and I are the trespassers, though quite innocent
ones. And you must be Marjory Davidson, I think--Dr. Hunter's niece;
and if so, I know a great deal about you, and we are going to be friends,
and you must let me begin by helping you now."
So saying, the lady seated herself on the ground beside Marjory, her
daughter looking on, at the same time stroking and patting Silky, who
seemed much more disposed to be friendly than his mistress.
"Can't you tell me what the trouble is, Marjory? I am Mrs. Forester, and
this is my daughter Blanche. We have just come to live at Braeside.
Your uncle called on us to-day, and told us about you. Blanche and I
have been looking forward to seeing you and making friends.--Haven't
we, Blanche?"
"Yes, I've thought of nothing else since I heard about you," said the girl,
rather shyly, the colour coming into