Explore "Margery Daw" by Bertha M. Clay on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Wednesday morning broke clear and cloudless. Margery rose at an early hour, and sat looking out of her little window at the sun gilding the fields and trees with its glory. Stuart Crosbie, too, rose earlier than was his wont; and he occupied the time till the breakfast-gong sounded in walking up and down his room, apparently in deep thought. As the muffled summons reached his ear, he uttered an impatient "Pshaw! " and made his way slowly down the stairs. His mother was seated at the table when he entered the room; and he had scarcely exchanged greetings with her when Vane Charteris made her appearance. It was not Miss Charteris' usual custom to honor the breakfast table with her presence; but since her stay at Crosbie the mood had seized her, and she descended regularly to the early meal.
"Good-morning, my dear," said Mrs. Crosbie, smiling her sweetest. "You look as fresh as a rose; doesn't she, Stuart?"