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. Where could she go? Not to Cousin Ethel's, she'd only bring
her back home. _Home!_ She hadn't any home,--no _real_ home! She thought
of Grandma Sherwood's, but she wasn't her grandma at all! Then she
thought of Grandma Maynard. That was a curious thought, for though
Grandma Maynard wasn't her own grandmother, either, yet, a few months
ago, she had begged Marjorie to live with her and be her little girl.
Surely she must have _known_ that Midget wasn't really her