"Take Jessiky as your maid-of-all-work, on trial,"-- he smiled at his wife over Marjorie's bowed head,--"an' ef she's a good little worker, we'll keep her fer the present." "My stars!" said Mrs.Geary, and then sat in helpless contemplation of these surprising events.
"And I _will_ be a good worker!" declared Marjorie, "and perhaps, sometime, we can sort of decorate the house, and make it sort of,--sort of prettier." "We can't spend nothin'," declared Mr.Geary, "'cause we ain't got nothin' to spend.

So don't think we kin, little miss." "No," said Marjorie, smiling at him, "but I mean, decorate with wild flowers, or even branches of trees, or pine cones or things like that." A lump came in Midget's throat, as she remembered how often she had "decorated" with these things in honor of some gay festivity at home.
Oh, what were they doing there, now?
Had they missed her?
Would they look for her?
They _never_ could find her tucked away here in the country.
And Kitty! What _would_ she say when she heard of it?
And _all_ of them! And Mother,--_Mother_! But all this heart outcry was silent.

Her kind old friends heard no word or murmur of complaint or dissatisfaction.

If the forlorn old house were distasteful to Marjorie, she didn't show it; if her room seemed to her uninhabitable, nobody knew it from her.

She ran out to the fields, and returned with an armful of ox-eyed daisies, and bunches of clover; and, with some grapevine trails, she made a real transformation of the dingy, bare walls.
"Well, I swan!" Mr.Geary said, when he saw it; and his wife exclaimed, "My stars!".