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Updated: June 23, 2025
How thankful Marjory felt now that she had insisted upon Peter teaching her how to saddle Brownie! She was soon on his back, off and away to Heathermuir, glad to have something to do, her heart aching with anxiety as to the seriousness of her uncle's injuries. The love for him which had been steadily developing of late gained sudden force to-night, and she felt how precious he was to her.
No one knew anything of her life before she came to Heathermuir; but the story went that her husband had gone away to foreign parts and never come back again, and that her temper was soured in consequence. Be that as it might, she was an excellent manager; everything at the Low Farm was in spick-and-span order, and fit for inspection at any time of the day.
All Marjory knew about them was, as she told Blanche afterwards, that it was said they came from "foreign parts," which was the general term applied by the people of Heathermuir to any country outside of the British Isles. It was said that a mysterious parcel came regularly every Christmas to Mrs.
The Heathermuir church was an old one; its pews were of the straight, high-backed kind, and once inside them their occupants could see little of their surroundings except the minister, whose desk was raised above the level of the floor. With no temptations to look about her, and relieved of her weekly task, Marjory gave her whole attention to Mr.
When at last she spoke it was not with the broad accent usual amongst the people of Heathermuir a fact which in itself proclaimed her as not one of them, and added not a little to their respect for her, and to the mystery which surrounded her. "So you've come to see the farm, Miss Forester," she said in her deep but musical voice. "What do you wish to see first?"
And turning to Marjory, she explained, "Mary Ann's just hame frae the schule for a wee bit." The Smylies were the most important people in the village of Heathermuir. Their mills supplied the countryside with flour, and their bakery was the only one of any size in the district.
"Some two years ago my brother took a place in Scotland, at Heathermuir, near Morristown. While I was on my travels my wife and daughter went up there to visit them twice, and Maud made the acquaintance of a girl named Marjory Davidson. She goes by the nickname of 'Hunter's Marjory' I suppose, because she lives with an old uncle at his place called Hunters' Brae.
Marjory saw the eyes of mother and daughter travel over her person from head to foot or rather, as she expressed it to herself, from hat to shoes and she felt as if that cold scrutiny would shrivel her up. She herself, although she did not stare, quickly took in the details of Mrs. Hilary Forester's very fashionable attire. She had never seen anything like it in Heathermuir before.
Many a time they had sailed from one end of the loch to the other, and she had done everything from start to finish as well as he could have done it himself. Marjory readily promised; she had quite expected this, for her uncle never left Heathermuir for a whole day without giving her this injunction.
How good it was to see the doctor at the station, to drive with dear old Peter and Brownie along the familiar road, to breathe the sweet pure air scented with pine and heather! "After all," Marjory said to her uncle, "there can't be any place in the world just like dear little old Heathermuir. I love every bit of it." "'East, west, hame's best," quoted the doctor.
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