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'What an inspiration that was to bring those Chinese lanterns for the Fourth of July; they have just saved us from utter ruin, said Margery, who was quietly making leaf-trimming. 'Yes, the effect is going to be perfectly gorgeous! exclaimed Polly, clasping her hands in anticipation. 'How many have we? Ten? Oh, that's splendid; and how many candles?
There's always a log-cabin in these camps, with cots and straw mattresses and plenty of traps for cooking. And, more than that, there is a chance for people who don't tramp or fish to do things, such as walking or boating, according to circumstances. There's one of our camps has a croquet-ground." "Oh, we don't want that!" cried Margery, "it would simply ruin every illusion that is left to me."
"So he said," answered Margery, shortly. "Ah! But your father ?" "Did not like thereof at the first; but after that Father Rous had so said, he made no further matter." "Ah! of force. I conceive it fully. Your mother, good daughter?" "My mother spake not of the matter. She witteth not to read, and therefore knew not the book." "Certes," said the abbot, with the most exquisite gentleness.
He may have divined that her thoughts would take an uneasy turn, for when they stopped for a moment in ascending a hill he came to the window. 'Are you tired, Margery? he asked kindly. 'No, sir. 'Are you afraid? 'N no, sir. But it is a long way. 'We are almost there, he answered. 'And now, Margery, he said in a lower tone, 'I must tell you a secret.
Thus we lived in dread and sorrow, till at last, a few days before Pernhart was married, a letter came to me from Eppelein, and I have it before me now, among other papers all gone yellow. "From your most duteous and obedient servant Eppelein Gockel to the lady Margery Schopper," was the superscription.
Here is Harrison, and he and I both pray from the bottom of our hearts that you will shake hands with him. I know you always liked him, for you have said so. And now we are both going to mother to tell her all about it." "Both?" said Mr. Archibald. "Yes," said Margery; "we must go together, otherwise mother would know nothing about him, and I should be talking to no purpose.
Almost all seemed charming, having a new, strange life, in which she Margery Pendyce had unaccountably a little part; as though really she might come to know them, as though they might tell her something of themselves, of what they felt and thought, and even might stand listening, taking a kindly interest in what she said.
"Margery, my cakes are ready," said she, "and Ellen and I are ready too." "Very well, Miss Alice the kettle is just going to boil; you shall have tea in a trice. I'll do some eggs for you." "Something anything," said Alice; "I feel one cannot live without eating. Come, Ellen, you and I will go and set the tea-table."
About a quarter of an hour after that Margery Dearborn came home. She was very glad indeed to see the Archibalds, whom she remembered as the kindest of people; and when she heard they were going to take her to Sadler's, she gave a scream of delight and threw herself upon Mrs. Archibald's neck. "You are an angel," she cried, "an angel of blessedness, my dear Aunt Harriet!
This is my plan: I will begin in my usual rockety style, sometimes maliciously called the Pollyoliver method; Margery will take up the thread sedately; Bell will plunge in with a burst of enthusiasm and seventeen adjectives, followed by a verse of poor poetry; Geoff will do the sportive or instructive, just as he happens to feel; and Phil will wind up the letter by some practical details which will serve as a key to all the rest.
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