CHAPTER VIII.
A REVELATION Marjorie was practising.
It was a lovely afternoon, and she wanted to go out and play, but her hour's practising must be done first.

She was conscientious about it, and tried very hard to hold her hands just right, as she counted, one--two--three--four; one--two--three--four.
Mrs.Corey, Hester's mother, was calling on Mrs.Maynard, and the two ladies sat on the veranda, just outside the window near which the piano stood.
Marjorie did not listen to their conversation, for it was of no interest to her, and, too, she was devoting all her attention to her exercises.
Usually, she didn't mind practising, but to-day the Sand Club was waiting for her, and her practice hour seemed interminable.
"One--two--three--four," she counted to herself, when something Mrs.
Corey said arrested her attention.
"Your oldest daughter ?" Marjorie heard her exclaim; "you amaze me!" Midget had no thought of eavesdropping, and as the piano was near the open window, surely they could hear her practising, and so knew she was there.
But Mrs.Maynard answered, in a low, serious voice, "Yes, my oldest girl.

She is not our child.

She is a foundling.

We adopted her when an infant." "Really ?" said Mrs.Corey, much interested.