As Marion turned the corner of the hill which hid her father's house from the village, she came upon a girl of her own age who seemed to have just risen from a stone by the wayside and was lifting a somewhat heavy and cumbrous basket. She was a thin, dark child with black hair which curled and twisted out of the sober braid in which its owner had tried to confine it, which made little rings round her face and neck and caught the brim of her hat. She had heavy black eyebrows which nearly came together over her nose, and very dark eyes which were independent in their way and could laugh merrily when all the rest of the face was composed to a demure calmness. She was plainly dressed, but everything she had on, from her slightly washed-out calico frock to her little black straw hat, was worn with a certain air of spruceness, and even elegance. "Oh, Marion, how glad I am! Now I shall have company part of the way," she exclaimed, in a high, clear voice and with something of a foreign accent. "But what has kept you so late? Our Kitty was at home nearly an hour ago." [Illustration: _Heiress of McGregor._ "Oh, Marion, how glad I am!"] Marion was usually fond of Therese, but she was in no mood for talking with any one just now, much less for giving an account of her tardiness. She would have preferred to go on indulging her day-dream to the end of her walk. Moreover, she felt it an injustice that Tom Beaubien's daughter should have such large black eyes and curling black hair, while her own eyes were blue and her hair straight and light brown. "I was detained," she answered, rather stiffly; and then, more good-naturedly, she added, "Where are you going so late with your basket?" "Home," answered Therese, gayly—"home to stay with mother till Monday. Mrs. Tremaine is good enough to spare me so long, and she has sent mother, oh, such a fine chicken pie and some apples." "Mrs. Tremaine is very good to your mother, isn't she?" said Marion, not much interested, but willing to divert Theresa's attention from her own troubles. "Indeed she is, and Miss Tilly and Miss Kitty as well. Oh, I should be so happy there, only for leaving mother alone all the week. If she would only move to the village! But no; she says she cannot live in a crowd." "And you like living at Mrs. Tremaine's?" "Yes, indeed, especially since I have begun lessons." "Lessons!" repeated Marion. "I thought you were working?" "And so I am. I help Mrs. Tremaine with the work and wait on Miss Tilly now she is lame, but I have plenty of time still. So I learn each day an arithmetic and a grammar lesson, and say them in the evening to Mrs. Tremaine, and I learn sewing of Miss Tilly, and Kitty and I read French together." "French!" said Marion, in surprise.