Chapter 35

When Margaret and Patty went home three days later they were accompanied by a beautiful girl, whose dark eyes carried a peculiar appeal in their velvety depths. Some of the passengers in the car that day wondered at such an expression on the face of one so young and so lovely, but when the girl rose and moved down the aisle, they wondered no longer. She was lame, and in every movement her slender form seemed to shrink from curious eyes.

Margaret had found her little friend far from strong. Arabella had been taxing her strength to the utmost, assisting the missionary through the day, and attending night school in the evening. She had worked and studied hard, and the strain was telling on her already frail constitution. All this Margaret saw at once and declared that Arabella must come home with them to the Mill House.

“But I couldn’t,” the girl had objected. “I couldn’t be a burden to you and Patty.”

“Oh, but you won’t be,” Margaret had returned promptly. “You’re going to be a help to Patty and me. The Mill House needs you. The work is increasing, and we haven’t teachers enough.”

“Oh, then I’ll come,” the girl had sighed contentedly—nor did she know that before night Margaret had found and engaged still another teacher, lest Arabella, when she joined the Mill House family, should find too much to do.

Almost the first piece of news that Margaret heard upon her return was that the family were back at Hilcrest, and that Mrs. Merideth had already driven down to the Mill House three times in hopes to get tidings of Margaret’s coming. When Mrs. Merideth drove down the fourth time Margaret herself was there, and went back with her to Hilcrest.

“My dear child, how dreadfully you look!” Mrs. Merideth had exclaimed. “You are worn out, and no wonder. You must come straight home with me and rest.” And because Mrs. Merideth had been tactful enough to say “rest” and not “stay,” Margaret had gone, willingly and thankfully. She was tired, and she did need a rest: but she was not a little concerned to find how really hungry she was for the cool quiet of the west veranda, and how eagerly she listened to the low, sweet voices of her friends in pleasant chat—it had been so long since she had heard low sweet voices in pleasant chat!

The thin cheeks and hollow eyes of Frank Spencer shocked her greatly. She had not supposed a few short months could so change a strong man into the mere shadow of his former self. There was a look, too, in his eyes that stirred her curiously; and, true to her usual sympathetic response to trouble wherever she found it, she set herself now to the task of driving that look away. To this end, in spite of her own weariness, she played and sang and devoted herself untiringly to the amusement of the man who was not yet strong enough to go down to the mills.