Part 15 (1/2)

As the carriage turned into the driveway which led up to Mrs.

MacDonald's house, Edna exclaimed, ”O, I know the s'prise! We are going to see Mrs. MacDonald.”

Dorothy clapped her two hands over her mouth as if to keep in the secret that trembled upon her lips. Then she looked up at her mother, repressing a little chuckle.

”Yes, we are going to Mrs. MacDonald's,” said Mrs. Evans, smiling.

They were ushered into the cosy library, where an open wood fire was blazing. Some one was curled up in a big chair before the fire--a little girl with curly auburn locks falling about her face; she wore a soft cashmere frock, and was a very dainty-looking little maid. She glanced up quickly as the visitors entered the room. Then a bright smile broke over her face, and she ran forward to meet them.

”Why,” exclaimed Edna, ”it's Maggie! Maggie Horn!”

”No,” and the auburn locks shook a decided negative; ”no, it isn't Maggie Horn; it's Margaret MacDonald! O, Edna, I'm 'dopted!”

Edna danced up and down in sheer delight, and Dorothy followed suit.

Then Edna gave Maggie a great hugging. ”Tell me all about it,” she said. ”How did it happen? O, Dorothy, this is the most delicious secret that ever was. How did you keep it?”

Mrs. Evans left the children in order to find Mrs. MacDonald, who was in the conservatory, and Maggie began:

”Well,” she said, smoothing down her frock, and taking a long breath, ”I was in the schoolroom, you know, when Miss Barnes was called out to see a lady, and after a while she came back and said some one wanted to see me. I thought it was my beautiful Mrs. Ramsey, so I was very glad; but it wasn't Mrs. Ramsey at all, it was a lady I had never seen before. She looked at me very hard, and asked me a lot of questions, all about my mother and lots of things; and Miss Barnes told me to bring my Bible that belonged to my mother and show it to the lady, and when she saw my mother's name, 'Agnes Wallace, from her loving mother, Margaret Wallace, Glasgow, Scotland,' she said, 'Why, she has my name, Margaret, and she has Scotch blood in her, the same as I and my husband. She shall be my own little la.s.sie!' That was what my mother called me, Mrs. Ryan used to say, and it sounded so natural. So she told me her name was Mrs. MacDonald, and asked me if I would like to be her own little girl, and--O, Edna! I was so glad. And that was three days ago. And O, it was like a dream, for when I got here who should run and meet me but dear old Mrs. Ryan. She told me my father died just after my mother did, and that n.o.body had a claim on me, so I could be Margaret MacDonald forever and ever.”

”Well, chatterboxes,” here a voice interrupted, ”have you had your talk out? We must be going,” and Mrs. Evans, with Mrs. MacDonald, entered the room.

Edna ran toward the latter. ”O, Mrs. MacDonald,” she cried, ”I do want to kiss you. You won't be lonely any more, will you?”

”No, I think not,” replied Mrs. MacDonald, ”and I don't want my little daughter to be. So Mrs. Evans has promised that you and Dorothy shall spend day after to-morrow with us.”

This was a delightful prospect, and Edna declared that the drive and the pleasure of seeing Maggie had made her feel entirely well.

”I can't get over it,” she said. ”To think of Maggie's living in that dear old house, and having that great big garden to play in and being just like any nice little girl. O, it is just too lovely for anything.”

That was a happy day which the three little girls spent together.

Margaret--as the two others delighted to call her--brought out the doll which had been awarded her at the fair, to be displayed to Dorothy's interested eyes.

”I must tell Miss Martin. She will be so glad,” said Edna. ”And O, Margaret, you must have Moggins. I shall have to send him out to you;”

but there was a tinge of regret in her tone.

”Will Mrs. MacDonald let you keep him?” asked Dorothy, turning to Margaret.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

”I'll go and ask her,” decided Edna, and straightway took herself to Mrs. MacDonald, and was not long in winning her consent. But Margaret was not willing to rob her friend at once of such an amusing companion as Moggins. ”Wait till you go home,” she said, ”and then you will not miss him.” And Edna, although she protested, was secretly glad when this was decided upon.

A pretty little room had been prepared for Margaret to use as her very own. Mrs. MacDonald believed in substantials, and did not indulge in much ornament. She was extremely fond of flowers, and her greenhouse was her greatest luxury. The house in which she lived was large, old-fas.h.i.+oned, and exceedingly comfortable, but was not as tasteful in its appointments as that of Mrs. Evans, ”I am a plain woman,” said Mrs. MacDonald to Mrs. Evans, ”and I'm not given to fal-lals, I like my flowers and my book; and now my little daughter suits me much better than if she were a beauty.”

”She has a nice, sensible, interesting face,” returned Mrs. Evans.

”And, please G.o.d, she shall be a nice, sensible, interesting woman,”

replied Mrs. MacDonald, ”and I hope a contented one. It's just wonderful what one little child can do. I'm thinking, Mrs. Evans, of that little child Edna. She has brought gladness to more hearts than one by the loving little spirit in her.”

”She's a dear little body,” replied Mrs. Evans, ”She always makes the best of things; her little cheery ways are good to see, and are a lesson to us older growlers.”

”I think my Margaret is going to be much the same,” said Mrs.