Part 6 (2/2)

Marian obeyed the a.s.sured voice, and presently Stella was tearing the ragged skirt from the waist, afterward pinning the tr.i.m.m.i.n.g of the waist in place. ”Now come here,” she said to Marian.

”What are you going to do?” the others asked in chorus.

”I am going to match your petticoat to your waist,” said Stella, addressing Marian. ”I will dot it with pink, and it will never be observed. You can wear the waist as it is, and have a skirt to match.”

”What are you going to spot it with?” asked Alice curiously.

”You'll see,” answered her sister, taking a blackberry from her basket and squeezing a little of the juice on Marian's petticoat.

”It isn't exactly the color, but it is near enough, and will never be noticed unless you were very near. Now stand quite still, Marian.”

The little girl obeyed and after some time Stella finished her work.

”There!” she exclaimed with her head to one side to notice the effect; ”that is not bad at all. Walk off, Marian, and let me see; the spots aren't quite even, but then, as Mrs. Hunt says, 'they will never be seen on a galloping horse.'”

”I am sure they look very well,” remarked Alice admiringly, ”and I think you were very clever to think of it, Stella.” And Marian, though still a little shamefaced, felt more at ease.

”We'd better start back,” said Stella, ”for the afternoons are not so very long now, and we have quite a distance to go.”

”If we didn't have blackberries in the two buckets we might get some of that nice cold water from the spring and carry it with us,” said Alice, ”and then if we were thirsty we should have something to drink.”

”It wouldn't be a bad plan,” agreed Stella. ”I'll tell you what we can do: Marjorie can pour her berries in our bucket and we can use hers for the water. Our bucket is so big that it will easily hold ours and hers, too.”

”I'd like to see me do it,” spoke up Marjorie. ”I'd be sure not to get back as many as I put in.”

Stella curled her lip and lifted her eyebrows scornfully. ”You needn't be afraid,” she said; ”n.o.body wants one of your old berries. If you are so particular, it is very easy to separate them by putting a layer of leaves on top of ours, and yours on top of that, and then there will be no mixing, and _we_ shall be sure to get all that belongs to _us_.”

Marjorie agreed to this arrangement, being quite ready to have a supply of water on hand, and so Stella carefully arranged the berries and said she would carry the bucket herself and that Marjorie and Alice could take turns in carrying the water. So, after everything was adjusted, they set off toward the town, following the dusty road by which they had come.

The way home did not seem as long as the morning's walk, and not a great deal of time had pa.s.sed when the spires of the village churches appeared in the distance, then they reached the outlying houses, and finally the main street. ”I'd just kite up the back way if I were you,” said Stella to Marian; ”it is a little bit shorter and you won't be likely to meet so many people. Good-bye. We turn off here, you know. I hope you won't get a scolding.”

The fear of this, or worse, had been in Marian's heart all along, though she had not mentioned it, and as she stole in the back gate and up the garden walk she hoped she would meet neither her grandmother nor Heppy. The little bucket of blackberries no longer seemed worth while, and she set it down near the apple tree, ran in the side door, past her grandfather's study, and on up-stairs, hoping she could get by the sitting-room without being seen.

But her hopes were in vain, for on the landing appeared her grandmother. ”Is that you, Marian?” she asked. ”Where have you been all day? Come in here and give an account of yourself.”

For a second it was in Marian's thought to say that her nose was bleeding and to make her escape to her room, change her frock and then reappear, but she knew it was only putting off the evil day, for the frock's condition would be discovered sooner or later; and then she was a truthful child, and could not have brought herself to make a false excuse, even though the outcome might have been better for her. So she entered the sitting-room timidly and stood with drooping head before her grandmother.

”Where have you been all day?” repeated her grandmother.

”Oh, didn't Mrs. Hunt tell you?” said Marian in a weak voice. ”She said she would. I've been blackberrying.”

”With whom?”

”Some of the girls.”

”Who gave you permission?”

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