Marjorie's New Friend

But Miss Hart seemed to ignore the fact that there were any troubles for anybody.

She talked pleasantly, even gaily, with Mrs. Spencer. She chatted merrily with Delight and Marjorie; and she even went out and spoke very kindly to the afflicted Maggie. And it was partly due to her suggestions that Mary, who was acting as cook, added some special dainties to the menu, and sent up an unusually good dinner. The party that gathered round the table was not a sad one, but this was due to the combined efforts of Miss Hart and Marjorie.

Midget remembered her father's rules, and pretended she was just staying with the Spencers for one night. She was so fond of "pretending," that this part came easy. Then she had put out of her mind the idea that she might have the diphtheria, and moreover, she was trying really hard not to be sorry for herself. In consequence of all this, she was gay and merry, and she was helped to be so by Miss Hart, who was good cheer itself.

The new governess was a pretty little woman, with smooth dark hair, and snapping black eyes, that seemed to read people's innermost thoughts. Although not entirely unacquainted with the Spencers, she had never before lived with them, but had been governess in the family of a friend of theirs. She was anxious for this new position, and Mrs. Spencer, who had been pleased to have her come, was doubly glad to have her in this emergency.

"We won't begin to-morrow," said Miss Hart, when the subject of lessons was broached, "but I think we'll begin next day. We'll spend to-morrow getting acquainted, and learning to like each other. You'll join the class, won't you, Marjorie?"

"Yes, I think I'd like study that way," said Midge; "but I don't like school."

"I'll guarantee you'll like study in our class," said Miss Hart, smiling; "you'll be sorry when school hours are over."

Midge could hardly think this, but of one thing she was certain, that

Miss Hart would be a pleasant teacher.

Soon after dinner, Marjorie's suitcase arrived.

James brought it over, and set it on the front porch and rang the bell. Then he went away before the door was opened, as he had been instructed to do.

When Marjorie opened the bag she found a note from each of the family, and they were all written in verse.

She read them aloud to the Spencer household and soon they were all laughing at the nonsense rhymes.

Her mother had written:

"Midget, Midget,Don't be in a fidget.Don't be sad and tearful,Just be gay and cheerful;Don't be sadly sighing,For the days are flying,And some day or otherYou'll come home toMOTHER."

"Why, that's as good as a valentine," said Miss Hart, as Midget finished reading the lines.

"So it is!" said Marjorie, smiling; "I'm going to pretend they're all valentines. Here's father's."

"Marjorie, Midget Mopsy,The world is tipsy-topsy!When I am hereAnd you are thereI feel all wipsy-wopsy!But soon you will be home once more,And all will be as it was before;So make the most of your fortnight's stay,For I cannot spare you another day!"

By this time Delight's spirits had risen to such an extent that she exclaimed:

"I think it's splendid to have Marjorie here for two weeks!"

"We'll make a picnic of it," said Miss Hart. "You girls won't often have two weeks together, so we must cram all the pleasure into it we can."

Cramming pleasure into this dreadful time was a new idea to Delight, but she was willing to agree to it, and Marjorie said:

"I think we can be happy if we try. But we have to forget the bad parts and only remember the good."

"That's it," said Miss Hart. "Now read us another of your letters. I'm sure they're good parts."

"This one is from King,—that's Kingdon, my brother," explained Marjorie, as she took up the next note.

"Mops is a captive Princess now,She can't get out of prison;But when it's time to let her go,Oh, won't she come home whizzin'!This poetry isn't very good,But it's the best that I can sing,I would do better if I could,And I'm your loving brotherKING."

"What a jolly boy!" said Miss Hart, "I'd like to know him."

"You will," said Midget, "after our two weeks' picnic is over." She smiled at Miss Hart as she said this, accepting her idea of making a picnic of their enforced imprisonment.

"Now, here's Kitty's," she went on. "Kitty's not a very good poet, but she always wants to do what the rest do."

"Marjorie Maynard nice and sweet,Has to stay across the street.Fourteen days and fourteen nights,Visiting her friend Delight.Marjorie Maynard, nice and pretty,Come home soon to sisterKITTY."

"Why, I think that's fine," said Miss Hart. "Your family are certainly devoted to you."

"Yes, they are," said Midget. "There's another,—Rosy Posy,—but she's only five. She can't write poetry."

"Can you?" asked Miss Hart.

"Yes, I can make as good verses as Kit; but not as good as King or father. We always make verses for each other on birthdays, so we get lots of practise. And we made some valentine verses this afternoon, didn't we, Delight?"

"Yes, that is, you did. But, oh, Marjorie, we can't send those valentines! Nothing like that can go out of the house!"

"Oh, pshaw, I don't believe they could do any harm."

"Well, Doctor Mendel said we mustn't send a letter of any sort, and a valentine is just the same, you know."

"What do you think, Miss Hart?" asked Marjorie.

"I'm afraid you can't send them, my dear. But we'll ask the doctor.

Perhaps, if they're disinfected—"

"Oh, horrors!" cried Midget; "a valentine disinfected! Of all things! Why, it would smell of that horrid sulphur stuff instead of a sweet violet scent! Nobody would want that sort of a valentine."

"No, they wouldn't," agreed Delight. "Oh, dear, it's too bad!"

"Never mind, Delight," said Marjorie. "We can send valentines to each other, and to Miss Hart, and to your mother. Oh, yes, and to Maggie and Mary. I guess that's about all. But everybody can send them to us! That will be lots of fun! It seems selfish, doesn't it, to get lots of valentines and not send any? But it isn't selfish, because we can't help it."

"I can send to my friends in New York," said Delight, thoughtfully, "by letting father get them and send them. I can telephone him a list, you know. It isn't as much fun as if I picked them out myself, but I don't want the girls to think I've forgotten them."

"If they know about the quarantine, they won't open the valentines," suggested Marjorie; "they'll think they came from this house, and they'll be frightened."

"That's so," agreed Delight; "unless they look at the postmark and it's

New York."

"Well, then, if they don't know your father's writing, they'll never know they came from you anyway."

"No, they won't. But then people never are supposed to know who sends a valentine."

"Then what's the good of sending any?"

"Oh, it always comes out afterward. I hardly ever get any that I don't find out who they're from, sooner or later."

"Nor I either. Well, we'll do the best we can."

Marjorie sighed a little, for Valentine Day was always a gay season in the Maynard home, but she had promised not to be sorry for herself, so she put the thought away from her mind.

As Mrs. Spencer's room opened into Delight's, she decided to give that to Marjorie, and take the guest room herself. She felt sorry for the child, held there by an unfortunate accident, and determined to do all she could to make her stay pleasant. And she thought, too, it would please Delight to have Marjorie in the room next her own. So when the two girls went upstairs that night, they were greatly pleased to find themselves in communicating rooms.

"We can pretend, while we're getting ready for bed," said Delight, and soon, in her little kimono, and bedroom slippers, she stalked into Midget's room and said, with despairing gestures:

"Fellow princess, our doom hath befell. We are belocked in a prison grim, and I fear me, nevermore will we be liberated."

"Say not so, Monongahela," answered Marjorie, clasping her hands.

"Methinks ere morning dawns, we may yet be free."

"Nay, oh, nay! the terrible jailer, the Baron Mendel, he hast decreed that we stay be jailed for two years."

"Two years!" gasped Midget, falling in a pretended swoon. "Ere that time passes, I shall be but a giggling maniac."

"Gibbering, you mean. Aye, so shall I."

"Well, stop your gibbering for to-night," said Mrs. Spencer, who came in, laughing; "you can gibber to-morrow, if you like, but now you must go to bed. Fly, fair princess, with golden hair!"

Delight flew, and Mrs. Spencer tucked Marjorie up in bed, in an effort to make the child feel at home.

There wasn't the least resemblance between Mrs. Spencer's ways, and those of her own mother, but Marjorie was appreciative of her hostess's kind intent, and said good-night to Mrs. Spencer very lovingly. At first, there was a strong inclination to cry a little, but remembering she must not be sorry for herself, Marjorie smiled instead, and in a few moments she was smiling in her sleep. Next morning, she put on the morning dress that had come over in the suitcase, and went downstairs with Delight.

"It's just like having a sister," said Delight. "I do believe, Marjorie, I'm glad all this happened. Of course, I don't mean I'm glad Maggie's baby is so sick, but I'm glad you're staying here."

"I can't quite say that, Delight, but as I am here, I'm not going to fuss about it. There's the telephone! perhaps it's Father!"

It was Mr. Maynard, and his cheery good-morning did Marjorie's heart good.

"All serene on the Rappahannock?" he asked.

"All serene!" replied Marjorie. "The verses were fine! I was so glad to get them."

"Did you sleep well? Have you a good appetite for breakfast? Did you remember my rules? May I send you a small gift to-day? Do you think it will rain? Don't you want your kitten sent over?"

"Wait,—wait a minute," cried Marjorie. "Your questions come so fast I can't answer them,—but, yes, I would like a small gift to-day."

"Aha! I thought you'd pick out that question of all the bunch to answer. Well, you'll get it when I return from the great city. Meantime, be good and you'll be happy, and I'm proud of you, my little girl."

"Proud of me! Why?"

"Because I can tell by your voice that you're cheerful and pleasant, and that's all I ask of you. Good-bye, Mopsy, I must go for my train. The others will talk to you later on."

"Good-bye, Father, and I would like the kitten sent over."

Marjorie left the telephone with such a happy face that Miss Hart, who had just come downstairs, said:

"I'm sure you had pleasant messages from home."

"Yes, indeed," said Midget. "It was Father. He's always so merry and jolly."

"And you inherit those traits. I like fun, too. I think we shall be great friends."

"I think so too," agreed Midget, and then they all went to breakfast.

The day started auspiciously enough, but after Midge had telephoned to the rest of her family there seemed to be nothing to do. Delight had a headache, brought on probably by the excitement of the day before, and she didn't feel like playing princess.

There was no use finishing the valentines, for Doctor Mendel said they must not send them to anybody.

Miss Hart was in her own room, and the morning dragged.

Marjorie almost wished she could go to school, and she certainly wished she could go out to play. But the doctor's orders were strict against their leaving the house, so she sat down in the library to read a story-book. Delight wandered in.

"I think you might entertain me," she said; "my head aches awfully."

"Shall I read to you?" asked Midget. She had had little experience with headaches, and didn't quite know what to do for them.

"Yes, read a fairy story."

So Midget good-naturedly laid aside her own book, and read aloud to

Delight until her throat was tired.

"Go on," said Delight, as she paused.

"I can't," said Midget, "for it hurts my throat."

"Oh, pshaw, what a fuss you are! I think you might read; it's the only thing that makes me forget my headache."

So Marjorie began again, and read until Delight fell asleep.

"I'm glad I kept on," thought Midget to herself; "though it did make my throat all scratchy. But I mustn't be sorry for myself, so I'm glad I was sorry for Delight. Maybe a little nap will make her head better."

CHAPTER XIII

GOLDFISH AND KITTENS

Leaving Delight asleep, Marjorie wandered out to the dining-room, where Mrs. Spencer was assisting the waitress in her duties. As Maggie was not allowed to leave the sick-room, Mary, the waitress, did the cooking, and this left many smaller offices to be performed by Mrs. Spencer.

"Can't I help you?" asked Marjorie, who was at her wits' end for occupation.

Usually, she could entertain herself for any length of time, but the strangeness of her surroundings, and a general feeling of homesickness made books or games unattractive.

"Why, no, Marjorie; little girls can't help," said Mrs. Spencer, who never thought of calling on Delight for assistance.

"Oh, yes, I can; truly I can do lots of things. Mayn't I put away that silver?"

"No; you don't know where it belongs. But if want to help me, can't you attend to Delight's canary? He hasn't had his bath, and Mary is too busy to do it. Do you know how?"

"Oh, yes; I often give our bird his bath, and clean his cage, and give him fresh seed and water. Where shall I find the birdseed?"

"In the small cupboard in Delight's playroom, the room where the bird is, you know."

"Yes'm, I know."

Marjorie ran upstairs, interested in this work, and taking the cage from its hook, set it on the table. She found the little bathtub and filled it with water of just the right warmth, and taking the upper part of the cage from its base, set it over the tub, which she had carefully placed on a large newspaper.

"There," she said, "spatter away as much as you like, while I cut a nice round paper carpet for your cage. I don't know your name, but I shall call you Buttercup, because you're so yellow."

The bird cocked his black eye at her, and seemed to approve of his new attendant, for he hopped into his bath, and splashed the water vigorously.

"You're a nice little Buttercup," went on Midget; "some bad little birdies won't jump in and bathe. There, I think that's enough; you'll wash all your feathers off! Here you go back home again."

She replaced the cage, filled the seed and water vases, and hung it back on its hook.

Midget was a capable little girl, and she took away the bathtub, and tidied up all traces of her work, as neatly as Mary could have done. Then she looked around for more worlds to conquer.

She saw the aquarium, a small round one, all of glass, in which were four goldfish.

"I think I'll give you a bath," said Midget to the fishes, laughing at the absurdity of the idea. But as she stood watching them, she observed the green mossy slime that covered the stones and shells at the bottom of the aquarium, and it occurred to her that it would be a good idea to clean them.

"There's a small scrubbing-brush in the bathroom," she said to herself, "and I can scrub them clean, and put in fresh water, and Mrs. Spencer will be so surprised and pleased."

She was about to bring a bowl of water from the bathroom to put the stones in while she scrubbed them, but she thought since there was already water in the glass, she might as well use that, and then get clean water for the fishes afterward.

"But I don't believe they'll like the soap," she thought, as, scrub-brush in hand, she was about to dip the soap in the water. "So I'll lay them aside while I scrub."

Marjorie had never had any goldfish, and knew nothing about them, so with no thought save to handle them gently, she took them out of the water, and laid them on the table in the sunlight.

She caught them by the simple process of using her handkerchief as a drag-net, and with great care, laid them softly down on the felt table-cover.

"There, fishies," she said, "don't take to your heels and run away. I'll soon clean up these dirty old stones and shells, then I'll give you nice fresh water, and put you back home again."

The stones and shells did look better, according to Midget's way of thinking, after she had vigorously scrubbed the moss from them. They shone glistening, and white, and she put them back in the aquarium and filled it with clean water, and then went for the fish.

"Ah, taking a nap, are you?" she said, as the four lay quiet on the table. But when she carefully put them back in the water, and they didn't wriggle or squirm a bit, she knew at once they were dead.

"You horrid things!" cried Midget, "what did you go and die for, just when I was fixing up your cage so nice? You're not really dead, are you? Wake up!"

She poked and pinched them to no avail.

"Oh, dear!" she sighed, "whenever I try to be good and helpful, I'm bad and troublesome. Now I must go and tell Mrs. Spencer about it. I wonder what she'll say. I wish I could tell mother first, but they'd hear me on the telephone. Perhaps the old things will come alive again. Maybe they've only fainted."

But no sign of life came from the four victims, who calmly floated on top of the water, as if scorning the clean white stones and shells below. They looked so pretty and so pathetic, that Marjorie burst into tears, and ran downstairs in search of Mrs. Spencer. That lady heard the tale with a look of mingled amusement and annoyance on her face.

"I've heard you were a mischievous child," she said, "but I didn't think you'd begin your pranks so soon."

"But it wasn't pranks, Mrs. Spencer," said Midget, earnestly. "I truly wanted to be help, fill, and I fixed the bird's cage so nicely, I thought I'd fix the fishes' cage too."

"But you must have known that fishes die out of water."

"No'm; I didn't. At least,—it seems to me now that I ought to have known it, but I didn't think about it when I took 'em out. You see, I never had any goldfish of my own."

"Well, don't worry about it, child. It can't be helped now. But I suppose

Delight will feel terribly. She was so fond of her goldfish."

"I'm sure Father will let me give her some more," said Midget, "but I suppose she won't care for any others."

She went back to the library, where she had left Delight asleep, and found her just waking up.

"Delight," she said, wanting to get it over as soon as possible, "I've killed all four of your goldfish!"

"On purpose?" said Delight, still sleepy and uncomprehending.

"No, of course not. It was an accident. I just laid them on the table while I cleaned the aquarium, and they fainted away and staid fainted. I guess they must have been sick before."

"No, they weren't. They were awfully frisky yesterday. I think you're real mean, Marjorie."

"I'm awful sorry, Delight, truly I am. But I'm 'most sure Father will let me give you other fish to make up for them."

"But they won't be the same fish."

"No, of course not. But we'll get prettier ones."

"Oh, no, you needn't get any fish at all. I'd rather have a kitten."

"Oh, I can get you a kitten easily enough. James always knows where to get them. What color do you want?"

"Gray; Maltese, you know. Will he get it to-day?"

"I'll ask Mother to ask him to-day. He'll get it soon, I know."

"All right; I'd heaps rather have that than fish. I'm tired of goldfish, anyway. You can't cuddle them like you can kittens. And I never had a kitten."

"You didn't! Why, Delight Spencer! I never heard of a girl that had never had a kitten! I'll ask Mother to see about it right away. Do you want two?"

"Yes, as many as I can have. I ought to have four to make up for those goldfish."

"You can have four, if your mother'll let you," said Midget. "Ask her."

"Oh, she'll let me. She never says no to anything I want. Does your mother?"

"Yes, often. But then, I want such crazy things."

"So do I. But I get them. Go on and see about the kittens."

So Midget went to the telephone and told her mother the whole story about the goldfish.

Mrs. Maynard was surprised at Marjorie's ignorance of fish's habits, but she didn't scold.

"I do think," she said "that you should have known better; but of course I know you didn't intend to harm the fish. And anyway we won't discuss it over the telephone. I'll wait until we're together again."

"You'll have to keep a list of all my mischief, Mother," said Midget, cheerfully; "and do up the scolding and punishing all at once, when I get home."

"Yes, but don't get into mischief while you're over there. Do try,

Marjorie, to behave yourself."

"I will, Mother, but I'm so tired of staying here I don't know what to do. Delight heard me say that, but I can't help it. I expect she's tired of having me here."

"I am not!" declared Delight; "now ask her about the kittens."

So Marjorie asked her mother about the kittens, and Mrs. Maynard promised to ask James to see if he couldn't find some that would be glad of a good home.

And so anxious was James to please his dear Miss Marjorie, and so numerous were kittens among James' circle of personal acquaintances, that that very afternoon, a basket was set on the Spencer's porch and the door bell was rung.

Mary opened the door and saw the basket, well-covered over.

"The saints presarve us!" she cried; "sure, it's a baby!"

She brought the basket in, and Mrs. Spencer turned back the folded blanket, and disclosed four roly-poly kittens all cuddled into one heap of fur.

"Oh!" cried Delight, "did you ever see anything so lovely! Midget, I'm so glad you killed the goldfish! These are a million times nicer."

"But you could have had these too," said Marjorie; "and anyway, I'll probably put these in the aquarium and drown them, by mistake!"

"Indeed you won't!" said Delight, cuddling the little balls of fur. "Oh,

Mother, aren't they dear?"

"They are very cunning," answered Mrs. Spencer, "and I'm glad you have them. Though four seems a good many. Don't you want to give them some milk?"

"Oh, yes; and we'll teach them all to eat from one saucer, so they'll be loving and affectionate."

The kittens showed no desire to be other than affectionate, and amicably lapped up milk from the same saucer, without dispute.

There was one white, one Maltese, one black, and one yellow, and Marjorie felt sure James had chosen the prettiest he could find.

"Now to name them," said Delight. "Let's choose lovely names. You'll help us, won't you, Miss Hart?"

"You ought to call the white one Pop Corn," said Miss Hart, "for it's just like a big kernel of freshly popped corn."

"I will," said Delight, "for it's like that; but as that's a hard name to say, I'll call her Poppy for short. A white poppy, you know. Now the black one?"

"Blackberry," suggested Marjorie, and that was the chosen name. The yellow one was named Goldenrod, and the gray one Silverbell, and the four together made as pretty a picture as you could imagine. The girls spent an hour or more playing with them and watching their funny antics, and then Miss Hart proposed that they, crochet balls of different color for each little cat.

Mrs. Spencer provided a box of worsted and they chose the colors.

A red ball was to be made for Blackberry, and a light blue one for Poppy.

Goldenrod was to have a yellow one, and Silverbell a pink one.

Miss Hart showed the girls how to crochet a round cover, hooping it to form a ball, and then stuffing it tightly with worsted just before finishing it.

They made the four balls and tried to teach the kittens to remember their own colors. But in this they were not very successful, as the kittens liked the balls so much they played with any one they could catch.

When Mr. Maynard came home, true to his word, he sent Marjorie a gift.

The bell rang, and there on the doorstep lay a parcel.

It proved to contain two picture puzzles.

"Oh, goody!" cried Midget. "These are just what I wanted. I've heard about them, but I've never had any, and Father told me last week he'd get me one. One's for you, Delight, and one's for me. Which do you choose?"

"Left hand," said Delight, as Marjorie's hands went behind her.

"All right; here it is."

"But I don't know how to do puzzles. I never saw one like this."