"Never mind; she shan't be bothered," said Mrs. Shaw, to Blanche's relief. "She shall come to the dairy and have some curds and cream--I've some nicely set--or a drink of the other milk, if she likes that better." And, still holding Blanche's hand, she led the way to the dairy, across the yard and along a shady path.
What a refreshingly cool place the dairy was, with its rows of shining white pans, and its tiled walls and floor! Everything looked so fresh and spotless, it was a pleasure to see it.
Blanche was glad to have a glass of the milk here. It was very different, ladled out of one of those beautiful white pans with a nice white ladle!
Mrs. Shaw showed them the churn and the pats of yellow butter. There were cheeses too, and pots of cream--one and all of the best and freshest.
The dairy was the last sight; and the girls, very much pleased with all they had seen, said good-bye to Mrs. Shaw, receiving a hearty invitation to come again soon--in fact, to come any time they liked.
Marjory walked with Blanche from the farm to a small gate which led into the Braeside park, Peter watching them, waiting for Marjory's return, and then walking home with her.
"She's a bonnie lassie yon," said Peter, as he walked stiffly up the hill beside Marjory. "I'm weel pleased wi' her."
"Yes, isn't she a darling, Peter? I do feel so happy now I've got a friend, and such a friend. Did you notice how Mrs. Shaw kept looking at her?"
Dr. Hunter was at home when they arrived. They found him sitting on one of the garden seats smoking.
"I'm taking a holiday too, you see," he called to Marjory. "Come and tell me about yours."
Marjory obeyed, and was surprised that she felt able to tell her uncle quite freely about what she and Blanche had been doing; and he, on his part, was glad to see the light in Marjory's eyes, and to hear the ring of pleasure in her voice, both of which had been rare of late.
As for Marjory, she went to bed full of contentment, and with a sense of general well-being. Often she had got up in the morning with a feeling of dullness, as if there were nothing to look forward to. She was sure that such a feeling would never come to her again, now that she had some one to share her days, to share her pleasures and her troubles--for even girls have troubles of their own, and very real ones sometimes.