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Updated: June 10, 2025
Now, what I know has a value to Phil's good name, who has been accused of doing more diviltry than the thief on the cross. Marjie, I'm goin' to proceed now and turn on screws till the heretics squeal. It's not exactly my business; but well, yes, it's the Lord's business to right the wrongs, and we must do His work now and then, 'unworthy though we be, as Grandpa Mead says, in prayer meetin'."
The late afternoon was dreamily still here, and the odor of some flowers, faint and woodsy, came from the thicket beside the doorway. "It is dreary in there, Marjie, but I'll always love this place outside. Won't you?" I said, and with a lover's happiness in my face, I drew her close to me. She smiled and nodded. "I'll tell you all I think after a while. I'll write it to you in a letter."
"Star Face," Jean Pahusca used to call Marjie, for even in the Kansas heat and browning winds she never lost the pink tint no miniature painting on ivory could exaggerate. We stood looking at one another in the purple twilight. "What's your name?" "Marjory Whately. What's yours?" "Phil Baronet, and I'm seven years old." This, a shade boastingly. "I'm six," Marjory said.
"I suppose," said Marjorie, pensively, "I ought to care if you've been bad or not, but I don't." "But Marjie, darling," Leonard brought her back and went straight to his point, "were you ever really in love with that German chap you spoke of when I gave you the helmet?" "He was my first love," said Marjorie, with wicked demureness. "I was fifteen and he was eighteen."
She shivered and bent her head. "Oh, not like thim two ornery tramps who had these blossoms 'fore I got 'em, but like I'd love a sister, if I had one; like Father Le Claire loves me. D'ye see?" "You are a dear, good brother, O'mie," Marjie murmured, without lifting her head. "Oh, yis, I'm all av that an' more. Marjie, I'm goin' to kape these flowers till well, now, Marjie, shall I tell you whin?"
He called to me almost in a whisper. 'Don't hurry a bit, Marjie, he said; 'I'm taking your cloak home. But I couldn't find it anywhere about the door. O'mie is always doing the oddest things!" Just then the church bell began to ring, and together we put on the lights and joined in the song. Its inspiration drove everything before it.
You'll do what you can to make Marjie see the right if she seems unwilling to do what I've agreed she may do. For after all," Mrs. Whately said thoughtfully, "I can't feel sure she's willing, because she never did encourage Amos any. But you'll promise, won't you, for the sake of my husband? Oh, could he do wrong!
The May evening was delicious in its balmy air and the deepening purple of its twilight haze. The spirit of the springtime, wooing in its tone of softest music, voiced a message to the sons and daughters of men. Marjie came out at sunset and slowly took her way through the sweetness of it all up to the "Rockport" of our childhood, the trysting place of our days of love's young dream.
He gently stroked the curly brown locks away from her forehead, and stooping kissed it, softly, as he would kiss the brow of a saint. Marjie sank down in her seat, and as she did so my letter fell from the pocket of the cloak she had thrown aside. As Judge Baronet stooped to pick it up, he caught sight of my well-known handwriting on the envelope. He looked up quickly and their eyes met.
Was that a trick of Lettie's to put Marjie out of my thought, I wondered, or did she really know my heart? I distrusted Lettie. She was so like her black-eyed father. But I had guarded my own feelings, and the boys and girls had not guessed what Marjie was to me.
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