Hunters Marjory | Page 4

of the children in the
neighbourhood; he himself was intimate with none of his neighbours
except the minister, Mr. Mackenzie, and the doctor, Dr. Morison. The
minister had no children, and the doctor's two boys were at school, so
that Marjory only saw them occasionally in the holidays. She had no
playmates of her own age, and the children of the village looked upon
her as an alien amongst them, regarding her almost with dislike,
although it was not her fault that she was obliged to hold aloof from
them.
Dr. Hunter had a theory that his sister had been too dreamy and

romantic; that he had petted her and given in to her too much, instead
of insisting upon her learning to be more practical. He blamed the fairy
tales of her childhood, the influence of her school companions, the
poetry and novels of later years as the chief causes of what he called
her dreamy ways and romantic nonsense, and he determined that
Marjory should be very differently brought up. She must learn to cook
and to sew and to be useful in the house. She should not be allowed to
read fairy tales or poetry, nor should she be sent to school; he himself
would teach her what it was necessary for her to learn; he would be
very careful before allowing her to make any friendships; and with all
these precautionary measures he felt that she must grow into a good,
strong, sensible, capable girl.
So Lisbeth the housekeeper was ordered to teach the child to dust and
to sew and other useful things; and Peter, her husband, must teach her
to hoe and to rake, to sow seeds in her little garden and keep it tidy.
The doctor's own part in the programme was to teach her to read and
write and cast up figures. That would be enough, he considered, for the
present. Music, languages, and poetry were to be left out as being likely
to lead to romantic ideas and dreams and unrealities. "Time enough for
them when she is older," he decided. "When the foundation of
common-sense has been laid, there will be no danger. Till then I shall
keep her to facts and nothing else."
The doctor did his best to carry out these plans, which he honestly
believed to be for the child's good in every possible way. Lisbeth and
Peter, grown old in service at Hunters' Brae, were warned on no
account to talk to Marjory about her father or old times, or to encourage
her in doing so; and they tried hard to do as their master bade them,
though it was difficult sometimes to resist those pleading eyes when the
child would say, "Won't you tell me about my father, Lisbeth dear?" or
"Peter darling," as the case might be. Peter was a gardener and
man-of-all-work, and his hands were sometimes very dirty, but he was
a darling all the same to Marjory, and indeed he was a good old man. If
he and his wife had known the truth, that Mr. Davidson had never been
told about his child, it is likely that Peter's strict sense of justice would
have prompted him to right that wrong. But, like every one else, he

took it for granted that the news had gone to Mr. Davidson, and in his
kind old heart was often tempted to blame the seemingly careless
father.
"Could he but see the bonnie lamb," he would say sometimes to his
wife, "the vera picter o' himsel', he wouldna hae the heart to leave her.
I've wondered whiles if the doctor wouldna send him a bit photograph,
just to show him what like she is."
Lisbeth would reply, "Peter, it's just nae manner o' use thinkin' o' ony
sic a thing. The doctor he's that set against Mr. Davidson that ye micht
as weel try to move Ben Lomond itsel' as to move him."
These conversations usually ended in an admonition from Lisbeth to
Peter to eat his meat and no blether. The suggestion was never made to
the doctor, no word ever reached Mr. Davidson, and things went on
much in the same way year after year; and although at times the doctor
would question the efficacy of his plans for Marjory's education, on the
whole he was fairly satisfied with them.
The day on which this story opens had seen the doctor take a most
unusual step. Hearing from an old acquaintance in London--a scientific
man and student like himself whose opinion he considered worth
something--that some friends of his had bought Braeside, the property
adjoining Hunters' Brae, he determined to do his duty as a neighbour,
and go to welcome the newcomers as soon as they arrived. His friend
had written, "Mrs. Forester is