Her thoughts flew to her father,--but no, he wasn't her father! King wasn't her brother,--nor Kitty her sister! Nor Rosy Posy----?
It was all too dreadful.

At every fresh thought about it, it grew worse.
Dear old King, she had never realized before how much she loved him.

And Kitty! And Father and Mother! She _would_ call them that, even though they were no relation to her.
For a long time Marjorie cried,--great, deep, heart-racking sobs that wore her out.
At last she settled down into a calm of despair.
"I am going away," she said, to herself.

"I won't stay here where they have to _pretend_ they love me! Oh, Mother, _Mother_!" But no one heard the little girl's grief.

Mrs.Maynard still sat on the veranda, talking to Mrs.Corey; King was down at Sand Court; and the nurse had taken Rosamond out for a walk.
"I _must_ go away," poor Marjorie went on; "I _can't_ stay here, I should _suffocate_!" She sat up on the edge of her bed, and clasped her hands in utter desolation.