With her reserve Marjorie could open her heart more fully to Miss Prudence than she could to one nearer her; it was easier to tell Miss Prudence that she loved her than to tell her mother that she loved her, and there were some things that she could say to Mr. Holmes that she could not say to her father.  It may be a strange kind of reserve, but it is like many of us.  Therefore, under this surveillance, Marjorie’s letters were not what her heart prompted them to be.

If, in her own young days, her mother had ever felt thus she had forgotten it.

But for this Marjorie’s letters would have been one unalloyed pleasure.  One day it occurred to her to send her letter to the mail before her mother was aware that she had written, but she instantly checked the suggestion as high treason.

Josie Grey declared that Marjorie was “simple” about some things.  A taint of deceit would have caused her as deep remorse as her heart was capable of suffering.

“Grandma, please tell me something that happened when you were little,” coaxed Marjorie, as she placed the knitting back in the old fingers.  How pink and plump the young fingers looked as they touched the old hands.

“You haven’t told me about the new boy yet,” said the old lady.  “How old is he?  Where did he come from? and what does he look like?”

“We want another boy,” said Mrs. Rheid, “but boys don’t like to stay here.  Father says I spoil them.”

“Our ’boy,’—­Morris Kemlo,—­don’t you think it’s a pretty name?  It’s real funny, but he and I are twins, we were born on the same day, we were both fourteen this summer.  He is taller than I am, of course, with light hair, blue eyes, and a perfect gentleman, mother says.  He is behind in his studies, but Mr. Holmes says he’ll soon catch up, especially if he studies with me evenings.  We are to have an Academy at our house.  His mother is poor, and has other children, his father lost money in a bank, years ago, and died afterward.  It was real dreadful about it—­he sold his farm and deposited all his money in this bank, he thought it was so sure!  And he was going into business with the money, very soon.  But it was lost and he died just after Morris was born.  That is, it was before Morris was born that he lost the money, but Morris talks about it as if he knew all about it.  Mr. Holmes and Miss Prudence know his mother, and Miss Prudence knew father wanted a boy this winter.  He is crazy to go to sea, and says he wants to go in the Linnet.  And that’s all I know about him, grandma.”

“Is he a good boy?” asked Mrs. Rheid.

“Oh, yes,” said Marjorie, “he brings his Bible downstairs and reads every night.  I like everything but doing his mending, and mother says I must learn to do that.  Now, grandma, please go on.”

“Well, Marjorie, now I’ve heard all the news, and Hollis’ letter, if you’ll stay with grandmarm I’ll run over and see Cynthy!  I want to see if her pickles are as green as mine, and I don’t like to leave grandmarm alone.  You must be sure to stay to supper.”