But Mr. Mason, though he recognized Marjorie's efforts to make this hour what it had been in the old house, and had begun to take a renewed interest in what interested Jack and Marjorie, still spent the most of his evenings away from home, and seemed often so preoccupied that with difficulty he aroused himself in response to Marjorie's efforts at polite conversation. Those were anxious and sad days for Marjorie--Hetty's silly, thoughtless words had made a deep impression on her mind, and she knew that if they were true it must be because he missed the presence and companionship of her dear mother, and the home atmosphere with which she had surrounded their lives. It seemed to her that the task she had undertaken would not have been so hopeless amid the familiar surroundings of their old home. But in this strange and unaccustomed place it seemed as though her efforts must be in vain. She studied to see if by some rearrangement of the furniture she could not give a more attractive and homelike air to the stiff and formal drawing-room. Hetty laughed at her suggestions, and would not help her. So she set to work to do it herself. At first she resolved to banish a hideous vase on the top of a tall cabinet, but when, standing on the top of the little step-ladder, she tried to move it, it proved heavier than she supposed and slipped from her grasp. In her attempt to save it she lost her balance and fell with it to the floor, striking her head on a corner of the cabinet. The next thing that Marjorie knew she was lying in bed, feeling very weak and queer. She opened her eyes, and then shut them again suddenly very tight, and lay still for a long while, trying to remember what had happened; because she thought she had seen in that brief glance that she was back in her old room at home, and the impression was so pleasant and restful, and made her feel so happy, that she did not want to open her eyes and dispel the illusion. Then she thought she heard a clock strike--one, two three, four--her clock! she would have known that sound anywhere. She could not resist the temptation to look, and slowly unclosed one eye. Yes, that was her very own clock that Jack had given her on the mantel-piece, there could be no mistake about that, nor about the mantel-piece either, for that matter, nor about the pictures over it, nor about the paper on the wall--both eyes were wide open now--nor about the rugs on the floor, nor the sofa, nor the chairs, nor the pretty, white bedstead. It was all a beautiful mystery, and she did not try to solve it. She simply gave a happy little sigh and fell into a deep and quiet sleep. When she awoke again she felt better and stronger, and lay for several minutes feasting her eyes upon the familiar features of her old room at home. Then the door opened quietly, and a sweet-faced woman in a wash-dress and white cap and apron entered.