Hunter's Marjory A Story for Girls   By: Margaret Bruce Clarke

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."