"Highty-tighty! so we're going to ride the high horse, eh? Well, I consider it my duty to take you home and report upon your unlawful doings." And, still holding Marjory's arm, he began to walk towards the house. Silky, hearing the strange footsteps and voices, barked angrily; and Dr. Hunter, disturbed by the unusual commotion, came out of his study. Seeing that the dog seemed anxious to go out by the garden door, he opened it just as Mr. Forester and Marjory reached it.
Mr. Forester had only been teasing Marjory, and had not really meant to get her into trouble. He had intended to see her safely home and then to leave her, but it was too late now.
The doctor, much surprised, called out, "Hallo, Marjory! where have you been, and who's this with you?--Why, Forester, how do you do? Come in. But what is the meaning of it all?"
"The truth is," said Mr. Forester, laughing, "that I've been out with the keepers after poachers, and this," pointing to Marjory, "is the only one we've found."
"But what was she doing out by herself at this time of night?" asked the doctor.
Marjory said nothing. Her uncle looked at her, and Mr. Forester, thinking that he had better leave them together, passed on into the dining-room.
"I should like to know," said the doctor sternly.
Marjory, pale and tearful, remained silent.
"Did you go out to see after Brownie, or any of the animals?"
"Come, Marjory, I insist upon knowing the reason for this freak. The truth is, I have let you have too much liberty to come and go, and now you will not give an account of yourself."
Marjory raised her head, and looking at her uncle with fearless eyes, she said,--
"I would rather not tell you why I went, but I don't think you would be angry if you knew; it wasn't anything wrong."
Dr. Hunter looked steadily at his niece, but she did not flinch. There was a look in her eyes, half appeal, half defiant challenge, which reminded him of her father. Just so had he looked during their last stormy interview.
"Very well, my child; I believe you," said the doctor. He had never known Marjory to tell a lie, and he could trust her. Still, he could not help wondering what secret she was keeping from him.
He was turning away with a sigh, when suddenly he felt the girl's arms about his neck, and her wet cheek pressed to his. "Thank you, uncle dear," she murmured; "you are very good to me."