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More About Peggy

by Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey · English · Gutenberg #21099 · 501,346 chars · public domain (US)

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Title: More About Peggy

Author: Mrs. George de Horne Vaizey


        
Release date: April 16, 2007 [eBook #21099]

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/21099

Credits: Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England


*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MORE ABOUT PEGGY ***




Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England





More About Peggy, by Mrs G. de Horne Vaizey

___________________________________________

This is another excellent book by Mrs de Horne Vaizey,
dating from the end of the nineteenth century.  While of
course it is dated in its references to the world around
its actors, yet nevertheless their emotions are
well-described, and no doubt are timeless.

In some ways the world around the people in the book is
recognisable today, in a way which a book written thirty or
forty years before would not have been.  They have
electricity, telephones, trains, buses, and many other
things that we still use regularly today.  Of course one
major difference is that few people today have servants,
while middle-class and upper-class families of the eighteen
nineties would certainly have had them.

Today we travel by aeroplane, while in those days, and
indeed for much of my own life, we travelled by ship and
train.  It was normal when travelling back to England from
India to disembark at Marseilles, and come on to the
Channel Ports by train, perhaps even spending a week or two
in Italy, en route.  I have done it myself.

So it is not so very dated after all.  But I do think there
is a real value in reading the book.  Oddly enough, I think
that a boy would benefit from reading any of the
author's books, more than a girl would, because it would
give him an insight into the girlish mind which he could
not so easily otherwise obtain.  And as the young ladies of
this book are trying to sort out whom they should marry,
matters do get quite girlish.  N.H.
_________________________________________________________

MORE ABOUT PEGGY

BY MRS. GEORGE DE HORNE VAIZEY



CHAPTER ONE.

It was mid-January, and at home in England the ground was white with
snow, but the sun shone down with brazen glare on the blue waters of the
Bay of Bengal, along which a P and O steamer was gliding on its homeward
way.  An awning was hoisted over the deck, but not a breath of wind
fluttered its borders, and the passengers lay back in their deck-chairs
too limp and idle to do more than flick over the pages of the books
which they were pretending to read.  It was only twenty-four hours since
they had left Calcutta, and they were still in that early stage of
journeying when they looked askance at their fellows, decided that
never, no, never had Fate placed them in the midst of such uninteresting
companions, and determined to keep severely to themselves during the
rest of the voyage.

The stout lady in the white _pique_ stared stonily at the thin lady in
drill, and decided that she was an "Impossible Person," blissfully
unconscious of the fact that before Aden was reached she would pour all
her inmost secrets into the "Impossible Person's" ear, and weep salt
tears at parting from her at Marseilles.  The mother of the sickly
little girls in muslin swept them away to the other end of the deck when
she discovered them playing with the children who inhabited the next
state-room, and the men stared at one another stolidly across the
smoking-room.  The more experienced travellers knew that ere a week had
passed the scene would be changed, that a laughing babel of voices would
succeed the silence, and deck sports and other entertainments take the
place of inaction; but the younger members of the party saw no such
alleviation ahead, and resigned themselves to a month of frosty
solitude.

The ladies dozed amongst their cushions, but the men strolled up and
down the deck smoking their cigars with that air of resigned dejection
which seems to be the monopoly of Englishmen of the upper classes.  The
quick movements, animated gestures, and sparkling eyes of the Southerner
were all lacking in these strongly built, well-dressed, well-set-up men,
who managed to conceal all signs of animation so successfully that no
one looking at them could have believed that one was the wit of his
regiment, another celebrated throughout an Indian province for his
courage and daring, and a third an expectant bridegroom!

About eleven o'clock a diversion was made on the upper deck by the
appearance of two more travellers--an elegant-looking woman accompanied
by her husband, who came forward in search of the deck-chairs which had
been placed in readiness for their use.  They were not a young couple by
any means, yet the eyes of the passengers followed their movements with
interest, for they were not only exceedingly good to look upon, but had
an air of enjoyment in their surroundings and in each other's society
which is unfortunately not universal among middle-aged couples.  The man
was tall and slight, with the weather-beaten, dried-up skin which tells
of a long residence under burning suns, and he had a long nose, and eyes
which appeared almost startlingly blue against the brown of his skin.
They were curious eyes, with a kind of latent fierceness in their good
humour, but just now they shone in holiday mood, and softened into
tenderness as he waited on his wife.

No sooner had this interesting couple seated themselves in their chairs
than a chirrup of welcome sounded in their ears, and a beaming little
figure in grey alpaca darted forward to greet them.  Though the majority
of passengers in an ocean-going boat may be unsociably inclined at the
start, there are always one or two exceptions to the rule to be found,
in the shape of ultra-friendly souls, who, willy-nilly, insist upon
playing the part of devoted friends to some unresponsive stranger, and
the old lady in question was one of these exceptions.  She had begun
operations the night before by quarrelling violently over the possession
of a cabin, had then proceeded to borrow half-a-dozen necessities of the
toilet which she had forgotten, and had advanced to the length of terms
of endearment before the bell sounded for dinner.  It was only natural
then that she should exhibit a breathless anxiety to know how her new
friend had fared during the night, and the invalid braced herself to
bear the attack with composure.

"So glad to see you up this morning, dear!" she cried.  "I was afraid
you might be ill, but I asked your daughter about you, and was so
relieved to hear good news.  We met on deck before breakfast, and had a
nice, long talk.  Such a sweet creature!  So different from the fast,
loud-voiced specimens one meets nowadays.  Quite an old-world girl, I
declare; sweet, and mild, and gentle...  `A violet by a mossy dell,
half-hidden from the eye'--as dear old What's-his-name has it!  It does
me good to be with her, and feel her restful influence.  You are to be
congratulated on owning such a daughter!"

"Thank you!" said the mild girl's mother softly.  She dropped her
eyelids, and twisted the rings round and round on her slender fingers,
as if for some reason she did not wish to meet the speaker's eye, while
her husband rose suddenly and walked to the end of the deck.  When he
came back, five minutes later, he remarked to his wife that there was no
depending on weather signals nowadays; at which innocent remark she
laughed so heartily that the friendly old lady instantly put down
hysterics as the probable explanation of her delicate appearance, and
felt a chilling of sympathy.  In a few minutes she took herself off to
some other friends, and the husband and wife whispered smilingly
together, and, after the invariable custom on shipboard, fell to
criticising their companions.

Perhaps the most striking figure which met their eyes was that of a
young man some thirty years of age, whose walk and carriage plainly
marked him out as an officer in the army.  A certain pallor showing
through his tanned skin made it seem possible that he was returning home
on sick-leave, but he was a handsome fellow all the same with aquiline
features and a heavy moustache, and he scanned the scene around him with
an air of languid patronage, as one who felt that the P and O Company
might feel themselves honoured to have the privilege of accommodating
his noble self, and expected that even the ocean should show its best
aspect for his benefit.  Of the passengers by whom he was surrounded the
lordly stranger appeared entirely oblivious, not deigning to throw even
a glance in their direction; and so strange a thing is human nature that
the feminine portion, at least, felt their interest heightened by this
indifference, and were increasingly anxious to make his acquaintance.
It did not seem likely that their desire would be granted on this
occasion, at least, for as the morning wore on and the heat of the sun
grew ever stronger and stronger, the object of their admiration took
counsel with himself, and decided that it would be wisdom to retire
within the shelter of the reading-room, and pass the hour before lunch
in the company of a novel which he had brought on board with his
effects.  He had carried the book upstairs earlier in the morning, and
placed it in a corner of the room where he believed it would be safe
from alien hands; but, alas! the best-laid plans "gang aft a-gley," and
when he went in search, he met with a shock of disappointment.  The book
had been appropriated, and the thief was seated in the very corner which
he had destined for himself, bending over the pages with every
appearance of absorption.  Her face was hidden from view, and all that
could be seen was a trim little figure in a trim white gown, a pair of
trim little feet, a sleek brown head, and a well-rounded cheek.  No one
could deny that it was a pleasing figure, but the lordly stranger was
too much ruffled in his feelings to be influenced by appearances.  His
manner was perhaps a trifle less haughty than it would have been, had
the thief taken the shape of an elderly gentleman, but he never wavered
in his intention, and only stopped for an imperceptible moment in his
progress up the room to demand a return of the volume.

"Excuse me.  Ah!  _My_ book, I think!  Sorry to interrupt you, but--"

The young lady laid down the book and lifted her face to his.  A flicker
as of mingled surprise and pleasure passed over her features as she saw
who it was that stood before her, but she showed not the slightest sign
of discomfiture.

"I beg a thousand pardons!" she said, and inclined her head in such a
bow as an empress might bestow on a blundering and ignorant supplicant.
It was such a very grand air for such a small person that the big
officer drew a breath of surprise, and gazed down with a startled
interest.  The girl's features were delicately modelled; the brows might
have been drawn with a pencil, so clear and perfect was the arch which
they described, and the brilliant hazel eyes met his with a mocking
glance.  For almost the first time in his life a spasm of discomfiture
seized him, a struggling suspicion that his conduct had not been
altogether above reproach.  He stood with the book in his hand,
hesitating, uncertain.

"If you would care to read it, pray keep it!  I shall be most happy to
lend it to you."

The girl waved her hand with a gracious patronage.

"Not for the world, until you have finished!  When you have no more use
for it yourself, perhaps you will be good enough to renew the offer.
Meantime, there are plenty of other books.  The library seems very
large."

"I make a point of never reading the ship's books.  You never--aw--know
who has had them last!" drawled the stranger, sweeping a scathing glance
over the well-filled shelves; "and, as a rule, they are in such shocking
condition.  People seem to take a malign satisfaction in tearing out the
most important pages, so that, after wading through a whole volume, you
are left in uncertainty as to what really happened."

"But sometimes that is a blessing in disguise, for by exercising a
little imagination you can make the story end as you like, and spare
yourself the pain of disappointment.  I rarely read a book without
reflecting how much better I could have finished it myself," remarked
the young lady, with an assurance which evoked a smile on the officer's
impassive countenance.

"You don't look much like an authoress," he said, surveying the dainty
little figure approvingly, and calling up a mental picture of the
spectacled and cadaverous female invariably associated with a literary
career in the masculine mind.  "I am afraid my imagination will hardly
stand such a strain; but books are the only refuge for the destitute on
a voyage, especially during the first few days, when you find yourself
shut up with a herd of strangers whom you have never met before in the
course of your life.  There is only one thing to do under the
circumstances, and that is to lie low, and speak to no one until you
have found your bearings and discovered who is who.  If you go about
talking to strangers, you can never tell in what sort of a set you may
land yourself."

"You can't, indeed!  It's appalling to think of!" agreed the young lady,
with a dramatic gesture of dismay which brought her little ringed hands
together in decided emphasis.  "For my own part I get on well enough,"
she proceeded, contradicting herself with unruffled composure, "for I
can find something interesting in all of my fellow-creatures; but I feel
it for my maid!  The couriers and valets are so _very_ exclusive that
she has been snubbed more than once because of our inferior station.
Naturally she feels it keenly.  I observe that those people are most
sensitive about their position who have the least claim to distinction;
but as she does my hair better than any one else, and is an admirable
dressmaker, I am, of course, anxious to keep her happy."

The big man looked down with a suspicious glance.  Through his not very
keen sensibilities there had penetrated the suspicion that the small
person in the white frock was daring to smile at him and amuse herself
at his expense; but his suspicion died at once before the glance of
infantile sweetness which met his own.  Pretty little thing! there was
something marvellously taking in her appearance.  For one moment, as she
had spoken of inferior station, he had had an uneasy fear lest he had
made the acquaintance of some vulgar upstart, with whom he could not
possibly associate.  But no!  If ever the signs of race and breeding
were distinguishable in personal appearance, they were so in the case of
the girl before him.  A glance at the head in its graceful setting, the
delicate features, the dainty hands and feet, was sufficient to settle
the question in the mind of a man who prided himself on being an adept
in such matters.  To his own surprise, he found himself floundering
through a complimentary denial of her own estimate of herself, and being
rescued from a breakdown by a gracious acknowledgment.

"Praise," murmured the young lady sweetly--"praise from Major Darcy is
praise indeed!  When `Haughty Hector' deigns to approve--"

The big man jumped as if he had been shot, and turned a flushed, excited
face upon her.

"Wh-at?" he gasped.  "What do you say?  You know me--you know my old
home name!  Who are you, then?  Who can you be?"

The girl rose to her feet and stood before him.  The top of her smooth
little head barely reached his shoulders, but she held herself with an
air of dignity which gave an appearance of far greater height.  For one
long minute they stared at one another in silence; then she stretched
out her hand and laid it frankly in his own.

"Why, I'm Peggy!" she cried.  "Don't you remember me?  I'm Peggy
Saville!"



CHAPTER TWO.

Hector Darcy knitted his brows, and started in bewilderment at the
little figure before him.  "Peggy Saville!" he repeated blankly.  "No,
you cannot mean it!  The little girl who had lessons with Rob, and who
saved Rosalind's life at the time of the fire?  The little girl I met at
The Larches with the pale face, and the pink sash, and the pigtail down
her back?"

"The self-same Peggy--at your service!"--and Miss Saville swept a
curtesy in which dignity mingled with mischief.  Her eyes were sparkling
with pleasure, and Major the Honourable Hector Darcy--to give that
gentleman his full title--looked hardly less radiant than herself.  Here
was a piece of luck--to make the acquaintance of an interesting and
attractive girl at the very beginning of a voyage, and then to discover
in her an intimate friend of the family!  True, he himself had seen
little of her personally, but the name of Peggy Saville was a household
word with his people, and one memorable Christmas week, which they had
spent together at The Larches in years gone by, might be safely accepted
as the foundation of a friendship.

"Of course I remember you!" he cried.  "We had fine romps together, you
and I.  You danced me off my feet one night, and gave me my death of
cold putting up a snow man the next day.  I have never forgotten Peggy
Saville, but you have changed so much that I did not recognise you, and
I did not see your name."

"I noticed yours in the list of passengers, and then I looked out for
you, and recognised you at once.  There was a Darcy look about the back
of your head which could not be mistaken!  I meant to ask father to
introduce you to me after lunch, but the book has taken his place.  So
you think I have changed!  I have `growed,' of course, and the pigtail
has disappeared; but in other respects there is not so much alteration
as could be desired.  My father tells me, on an average three times a
day, that I shall remain the same `Peggy-Pickle' all my life."

"That sounds bad!  So far as my remembrance goes, you used to be a
mischievous little person, always getting into scrapes and frightening
the wits out of your companions."

"Ah!" sighed Miss Saville dolorously.  "Ah-h!"  She shook her head with
a broken-hearted air, and looked so overwhelmed with compunction for her
misdeeds, that if it had not been for a treacherous dimple that defied
her control, the major would have felt remorseful at awakening a painful
memory.  As it was he laughed heartily, and cried aloud:

"When you look like that, I can see you again with the pigtail and the
white frock, just as you looked that Christmas half-a-dozen years ago!
Your father is right--you have not changed a bit from the little Peggy I
used to know!"

"I'm a full-fledged young lady now, Major Darcy, and have been `out' for
three whole years.  I've grown into `Miss Saville,' or at the very least
into `Mariquita.'"

"But not to me.  I'm part of the old times; Rosalind's brother--Rob's
brother--you cannot treat me like a stranger.  Peggy you have been, and
Peggy you must be, so far as I am concerned, for I could not recognise
you by another name.  Sit down and tell me all about yourself.  How long
have you been in India, and where are you bound for now?"

"I came out three years ago, when I was eighteen, and now we are going
home for good.  I'm so glad, for though I've enjoyed India immensely,
there is no place like the old country.  Mother is not strong, so we are
going to stay on the Continent until it is warm enough to return safely.
We shall land at Marseilles, stay a month in the Riviera, and gradually
work our way homewards.  When I say home, of course you understand that
we have no home as yet, but we are going to look round for a house as
soon as possible.  We know exactly what we want, so it ought to be easy
to get it.  A dear old place in the country--the _real_ country, not a
suburb, but within half an hour's rail of town.  A house covered with
roses and creepers, and surrounded by a garden.  Oh! think of seeing
English grass again--the green, _green_ grass, and walking along between
hedges of wild roses and honeysuckle; and the smell of the earth after
it has rained, and all the little leaves are glistening with water--do
you remember--oh! do you remember?" cried Peggy, clasping her eager
hands, and gazing at her companion with a sudden glimmer of tears which
rose from very excess of happiness.  "I don't say so to mother, because
it would seem as if I had not been happy abroad; but I _ache_ for
England!  Sometimes in the midst of the Indian glare I used to have a
curious wild longing, not for the Country... that was always there--but
for the dull, old Tottenham Court Road!  Don't laugh!  It was no
laughing matter.  You know how dull that road looks, how ugly and grimy,
and how grey, grey, grey in rainy weather?  Well, amidst the glare of
Eastern surroundings that scene used to come back to me as something so
thoroughly, typically English, that its very dreariness made the
attraction.  I have stood in the midst of palm and aloes, and just
longed my very heart out for Tottenham Court Road!"

Major Darcy laughed and shrugged his shoulders.

"I know the feeling--had it myself; but you will lose it soon enough.
In the East you gasp and long for England; in England you shudder and
long for the East.  It's the way of the world.  What you haven't got
seems always the thing you want; but no sooner have you got it than you
realise its defects.  England will strike you as intolerably dreary when
you are really there."

Peggy shook her head obstinately.

"Never!  I was ablaze with patriotism before I left, and I have been
growing worse and worse all the time I have been abroad.  And it will
_not_ be dreary!  What is the use of imagining disagreeable things?  You
might just as well imagine nice ones while you are about it.  Now _I_
imagine that it is going to be a perfect summer--clear, and fine, and
warm, with the delicious warmth which is so utterly different from that
dreadful India scald.  And father and I are going to turn gardeners, and
trot about all day long tending our plants.  Did I tell you that we were
going to have a garden?  Oh yes--a beauty!--with soft turf paths,
bordered with roses, and every flower that blooms growing in the
borders.  We will have an orchard, too, where the spring bulbs come up
among the grass; and I've set my heart on a moat.  It has been the dream
of my life to have a moat.  `Mariquita of the Moated Grange!'...  Sounds
well, doesn't it?  It would be good for me to have an address like that,
for I possess a strong instinct of fitness, and make a point of living
up to my surroundings."  Peggy lay back in her seat and coughed in the
languid, Anglo-Indian fashion which was her latest accomplishment.  "I
suppose you don't happen to know the sort of house that would suit us?"

"Within half an hour of London?  No!  That is too much to ask.  It's a
Chateau en Espagne, Peggy, and not to be had in Middlesex.  You will
have to do like the rest of the world, and settle down in a red brick
villa, with a plot of uncultivated land out of which to manufacture your
garden.  There will be neither green sward nor festoons of roses; but,
on the other hand, the house will contain every modern convenience, and
there will be hot and cold water, electric light--"

"Don't!" cried Peggy hastily.  She lifted her hand with a gesture of
entreaty, and Hector was startled to see how seriously she had taken his
jesting words.  "Don't laugh at me!  I've been dreaming of it so long,
and it's such a dear, dear dream.  Do you realise that in all my life I
have never had a permanent home?  It has been a few years here, a few
years there, with always the certainty of another change ahead; but now
we mean to find a real home, where we can take refuge, with all our
possessions around us.  Mother and I have talked about it until we can
_see_ every nook and corner, and it is waiting for us somewhere--I know
it is!  So don't be sceptical, and pretend that it is not!  We won't
talk about houses any more, but you shall tell me your own news.  It is
four years since I saw Rob and Rosalind, as they were abroad for the
year before I left England.  But you have been home since then, I know."

"Yes; only eighteen months ago.  I should not be back so soon, but I've
had an attack of fever, and am taking a few months off, to pull myself
together.  I'm glad our home-goings have taken place at the same time.
What do you want to know?  My people were much as usual when I saw them
last; but the mater has not been at all well for some months back.  She
has had to leave the house in charge of her sister, Mrs Everett, and go
off to some baths in Germany for a course of treatment, and I believe
she will not return to England until the autumn.  Rosalind--"

"Yes--Rosalind?"

The major's handsome face softened into a smile, which showed that the
subject of his young sister was pleasant to his mind.

"Rosalind," he said slowly, "is a circumstance--decidedly a circumstance
to be taken into account!  We look to her to redeem the fortunes of the
family, and the mater considers nobody under a royal duke worthy of her
acceptance.  She is certainly a lovely girl, and a more agreeable one
into the bargain than I expected her to turn out.  She was a spoiled,
affected child, but she took a turn for the better after her accident.
My parents, I believe,"--Major Darcy looked at his companion with a
brightening glance,--"my parents ascribe a great part of the change to
your beneficial influence."

Peggy's cheeks flushed with pleasure, for she had by no means outgrown
her childish love of a compliment; but she shrugged her shoulders, and
replied in a tone of would-be indifference:

"Plus the wholesome discipline of having her hair cut short.  Poor
Rosalind!  Never shall I forget her confiding to me that she was
`wesigned to becoming a hideous fwight,' while all the time she was
admiring her profile in the mirror and arranging her curls to hide the
scar.  We had been on very distant terms before that accident; but when
we were both convalescent we took courage, and spoke faithfully to one
another on the subject of our several failings.  I told Rosalind, in
effect, that she was a conceited doll, and she replied that I was a
consequential minx.  It cleared the air so much that we exchanged vows
of undying friendship, which have been kept to the extent of some half-
a-dozen letters a year.  I know much more about Rosalind than I do about
Rob.  Please tell me all you can about Rob!"

"Oh, Rob, you know, was always a boor," said Rob's brother lightly,
"and, upon my word, he is a boor still!  He did remarkably well at
Oxford, as no doubt you heard, and then went travelling about for a
couple of years through a number of uncomfortable and insanitary lands.
He has always been a great gardener and naturalist, and he brought home
some new varieties of shrubs and flowers, out of which he makes a fair
amount of money.  His principal craze, however, as I understand it, was
to add to his knowledge on the engrossing subject of _Beetles_.  He has
written some papers on them since his return, and they tell me he has
made his mark, and will soon be considered a leading authority.  I must
say, however, that the whole thing seems to me of supreme unimportance.
What on earth can it matter whether there are ten varieties of beetles
or ten thousand?  Rob is just the sort of hard-headed, determined fellow
who could have made himself felt in whatever _role_ he had taken up, and
it seems hard luck that he should have chosen one so extremely dull and
unremunerative."  Hector leant his head against the wall with an air of
patronising disgust, for his own profession being one of avowed
readiness to kill as many as possible of his fellow-creatures, he felt a
natural impatience with a man who trifled away his time in the study of
animal nature.  He sighed, and turned to his companion in an appeal for
sympathy.  "Hard lines, isn't it, when a fellow has society practically
at his feet, that he should run off the lines like that?"

"De-plorable!" said Peggy firmly, and her expression matched the word.
She shook her head and gazed solemnly into space, as if overpowered by
the littleness of the reflection.  "Poor Rob--he is incorrigible!  I
suppose, then, he doesn't care a bit for dinners, or dances, or standing
against a wall at a reception, or riding in a string in the Park, but
prefers to pore over his microscope, and roam over the country, poking
about for specimens in the ditches and hedgerows?"

"Exactly.  The mater can hardly induce him to go out, and he is never so
happy as when he can get on a flannel shirt and transform himself into a
tramp.  You remember Rob's appearance in his school-days?  He is almost
as disreputable to-day, with his hair hanging in that straight heavy
lock over his forehead, and his shoulders bowed by poring over that
everlasting microscope."

A light passed swiftly across Peggy's face, and her eyes sparkled.  One
of the most trying features of a long absence from home is that the face
which one most longs to remember has a way of growing dim, and elusively
refusing to be recalled.  In those hot Indian days, Peggy had often
seated herself in her mental picture gallery, and summoned one friend
after another before her: the vicar, with his kindly smiles; Mrs
Asplin, with the loving eyes, and the tired flush on the dear, thin
cheeks; Esther, with her long, solemn visage; Mellicent, plump and rosy;
Rex, with his handsome features and budding moustache; Oswald,
immaculately blond--they could all be called up at will, and would
remain contentedly in their frames until such times as she chose to
dismiss them; but Rob's face refused to be recalled in the same easy
fashion.  Now and again, from out the gloom, a pair of stormy eyes would
flash upon her, or she would catch her breath as a stooping figure
seemed to rise suddenly beside the palm-trees; but Rob, as a whole, had
refused to be recalled, until at his brother's words his image had
appeared before her in so vivid and characteristic a guise that it
seemed almost as if Rob himself stood by her side.  She drew a long
breath, and chimed in with an eager--

"Yes, yes!  And his great long arms waving about--I never knew any one
with such long arms as Rob.  And a pair of thick, nailed boots, with all
four tabs sticking out, and a tie slipping round to the back of his
neck.  It's exactly like him.  I can see him now!"

Hector Darcy shrugged his shoulders.

"Don't, please!  It's not a pleasant prospect.  I try to let distance
lend enchantment to the view, for it's bad enough having to go about
with him when I am at home.  The fellow would not be bad-looking, if he
took a little care of himself; but he is absolutely regardless of
appearances."

"He must have an idea that there are other things of more importance.
He was always a ridiculous boy!" murmured Miss Saville sweetly.  The
major glanced at her with a suspicious eye, once more disturbed by the
suspicion that she was being sarcastic at his expense, but Peggy was
gazing dreamily through the opposite windows, her delicately cut profile
thrown into relief against the dark wood of the background.  She looked
so young, so fragile and innocent, that it seemed quite criminal to have
harboured such a suspicion.  He was convinced that she was far too sweet
and unassuming a girl to laugh at such a superior person as Major Hector
Darcy.



CHAPTER THREE.

A fortnight later the passengers on board the steamer were
congratulating themselves on having accomplished half their journey, and
being within ten days' sail of England.  The waters of the Mediterranean
surrounded them, clear and blue as the sky overhead, a healthful breeze
supplanted the calm, and the spirits of the travellers rose ever higher
and higher.  Homeward bound is a very different thing from outward
bound, and every soul on board had some dear one waiting for them in Old
England, some one who had loved them faithfully through the years of
absence, and who was even now counting the days until their return.  The
mothers boasted to each other concerning the doings of the children whom
they had left at school, and in the midst of laughter turned aside
suddenly to conceal their tears; the men thought lovingly of the wives
from whom they had parted years before; and one or two radiant
bridegrooms exhibited photographs of the brides whom they were going to
carry back to cheer their exile.

After a fortnight at sea the company on board this particular steamer
might be said to be divided into four distinct cliques--namely, members
of military and diplomatic services, Civil Service employees, second-
class passengers, and--Miss Mariquita Saville.  The young lady must be
taken as representing a class by herself, because while each of the
other divisions kept, or was kept, severely to itself, Peggy mixed
impartially with all, and was received with equal cordiality wherever
she turned.  The little person had made such a unique position for
herself that there is no doubt that if a vote had been taken to discover
the most popular person on board, she would have headed the list by a
large majority; but whether her unfailing affability was due more to
pride or humility, Hector Darcy, among others, found it difficult to
determine.

Major Darcy had attached himself to the Saville party with a
determination hardly to be expected in so languid a man, had even
lowered his dignity to the extent of asking the fellow-passenger who
occupied the coveted seat at table to exchange places with himself, so
that breakfast, lunch, and dinner found him seated at Peggy's side,
finding ever-fresh surprises in her society.  Sometimes the surprise was
the reverse of pleasant, for Miss Saville was a prickly little person,
and upon occasion would snap him up in the middle of an argument with a
lack of respect which took away his breath.  When any difference arose
between them, she never seemed to have a shadow of a doubt that she was
in the right, and as Hector was equally positive about his own position,
relationships frequently grew so strained that Peggy would rise from the
table half-way through the meal, and stalk majestically out of the
saloon.  She invariably repented her hastiness by the time she reached
the deck, for dessert was the part of the meal which she most enjoyed,
so that when the major followed ten minutes later on, bearing a plate of
carefully selected fruit as a peace-offering, he was sure of a gracious
welcome.

"But you must never contradict me on Tuesdays, I can't support it!" she
said on one of these occasions, as he seated himself beside her, and
watched her raising the grapes to her lips with her little finger cocked
well in the air.  "Especially when I am in the right, as you must
admit--"

"I admit nothing; but I pray and beseech you not to begin the discussion
over again.  I am nine years older than you, and must surely be supposed
to know a little more."

"If you only realised it, that is just the reason why you don't.  The
world advances so rapidly with every decade, that you of the last
generation have necessarily enjoyed fewer opportunities than myself and
my contemporaries, and are therefore behind the times.  It's not your
fault, of course, and I don't advance it in any way as a reproach, but
still--"

Major Darcy stared at her, struck dumb by an insinuation of age which
was even more hurtful than that of inferior knowledge; but before he had
recovered himself sufficiently to reply, his companion had finished her
dessert, presented him calmly with the empty plate, and risen to take
her departure.

"Where are you going?" he queried in an injured tone; for it was one of
his pet grievances that the girl refused to be appropriated by himself
whenever he wished to enjoy her society.  "Can't you sit still for an
hour at least?  You have been rushing about all the morning.  Surely now
you can take a rest!"

But Peggy shook her head.

"Impossible!  I'm engaged straight away from now until tea-time.  The
nurse of those peevish little Mortons is worn out, for the mother is
ill, and can't help her at all, so I promised to amuse the children for
an hour after lunch while she takes a nap.  Then I have to play a game
of halma with old Mr Schute, and help Miss Ranger to dress and come on
deck.  She thinks she can manage it to-day, and it will do her a world
of good to get some fresh air."

"But why need you fag yourself for all these people?  Surely there is
some one else who can do it.  Can you not send your maid to look after
the children, at least, and take that hour to yourself?"

Peggy smiled with complacent satisfaction.

"They would scream themselves hoarse.  Of all the spoilt, bad-tempered
little ruffians you ever encountered, they are the worst, and there is
not a soul on board who can manage them except myself.  Yesterday they
got so cross that I was almost in despair, and it was only by pretending
to be a wild buffalo, and letting them chase me and dig pencils into me
for spears, that I could keep them in any sort of order.  When they grew
tired of the buffalo, I changed into a musical-box, and they ground
tunes out of me until my throat was as dry as leather.  It kept us going
for a long time, however, for they all wanted to hear their own
favourite tunes, and were so charmed with the variations.  I wish you
could have heard the variations!  I was so proud of them.  The scales
ran up and down just like a real musical-box, the tremolo and arpeggio
chords were fine, and as for the trills, they were simply entr-r-
rancing!"  Peggy rolled the `r' with a self-satisfied enjoyment which
made Hector laugh in spite of his displeasure, and finished up with an
explanatory, "I could never expect Parker to pose as a wild buffalo.
She has far too much sense of dignity!"

"Oh, of course, I acknowledge that you have a wonderful knack with
children!  Every one sees that," allowed Hector unwillingly.  "It is
very kind and delightful of you to bother about other people as you do;
but what I complain of is the extent of your services, and--aw--the
nature of the recipients!  Miss Ranger, for instance, is an impossible
person.  What she calls herself I don't know, but she doesn't even begin
to be a lady.  I heard her talking the other day, and she has a vile
accent, and not an `h' in her composition."

"She has enough responsibilities without them at present, poor soul, so
perhaps it's just as well.  She has been ill ever since we started, and
has no friend nor servant to look after her.  She fell on the floor in a
faint one day while she was trying to dress, and lay there helpless
until the stewardess happened to go in and find her.  That sort of thing
sha'n't happen twice on board this ship, if _I_ can help it!" cried
Peggy with a straightening of the slim little back which seemed to add a
couple of inches to her height, and a toss of the head which convinced
Major Darcy that it was no use arguing further on this point.  It was
astonishing how often he was forced to retire from post to post in
arguments with Miss Saville, and the consciousness that this was the
case gave him courage to enter yet a third protest.

"Well, at least, old Schute is hearty enough!  There is no necessity to
pity him; and, really, don't you know, he is hardly the right sort of
friend for you.  Do you know who he is?  The proprietor of one of the
big drapers' shops in Calcutta."

"It was a very good shop," said Peggy reflectively.  "They were most
obliging in sending patterns.  Two of the assistants were in a class
mother held for English girls, and they said he was so kind and
considerate, and had even paid to send some of them to the hill, after
they had been ill.  I've a great respect for Mr Schute."

"Quite so; but that's not exactly a reason why you should play halma
with him.  I've a respect for him also, if what you say is true, but he
is not in our class, as he himself would acknowledge, and it's not the
thing for you to be seen talking to him.  There are certain restrictions
which we must all observe."

"Excuse me--I don't observe them.  I am Mariquita Saville.  Nothing that
I can do can alter that fact, or take from me the position to which I
was born," replied Peggy, with that air of overweening pride in her
belongings which had a distinctly humorous aspect in the eyes of her
companion, for though a county name and some well-won decorations are,
no doubt, things to be valued, nothing short of a pedigree traced direct
from the Flood itself would have justified the ineffable assurance of
her manner.

He was not rash enough, however, to put such a reflection into words, so
he stood in silence until once again the girl turned to leave him, when
he found his tongue quickly enough.

"You are really going then?"

"Certainly I'm going!"

"You'll tire yourself out with those children, and get a headache into
the bargain in the stuffy cabins."

"I think it's extremely probable."

"Then why will you be obstinate, and go in spite of all I can, say?"

"Shall I tell you why?"  Peggy raised her head and stared at him with
brilliant eyes.  "I must go and help these poor people because _you_--
and others like you--refuse to do it!  I can't bear to see them
neglected, but I should be delighted to share the work with some one
else.  Major Darcy, will you do me a favour?  Mr Schute is very lonely;
no one speaks to him, and his eyes are so weak that he can't amuse
himself by reading.  He is a very interesting old man, and I assure you
his `h's' are above reproach.  Will you have a game of halma with him
this afternoon instead of me, and so set me free from my promise?"

Haughty Hector's stare of amazement was a sight to behold.  He, Hector
Darcy, play a game with a tradesman in the saloon of a steamship?
Associate on terms of intimacy with a member of a class who, according
to his ideas, existed for no other reason than to minister to his needs
and requirements?  He was breathless with astonishment that such a
request should have been made, and made no concealment of his annoyance.

"Really," he said loftily, "anything in reason that I could do to assist
you would be too great a pleasure, but what you ask is impossible.  You
must see for yourself--"

"You will not do it, then?"

"If you will think for one moment, you will realise that you could not
expect--"

Peggy threw back her head and surveyed him deliberately from the crown
of his head to the tip of his shoes, from his shoes up again until the
hazel eyes met his with a mocking light.

"I did not expect--I _hoped_; but I see that even that was a mistake!
Good afternoon, Major Darcy, and many thanks for your polite assurances!
It is gratifying to discover exactly how much they are worth."

She sailed away with her head in the air, leaving Hector to pace the
deck with a frown of thunderous ill-temper disfiguring his handsome
countenance.  It was annoying to be worsted by an antagonist of such
small dimensions, but, astonishing as it appeared, he invariably got the
worst of it in a conflict with Peggy Saville!



CHAPTER FOUR.

The next two weeks passed away all too quickly.  The latter part of the
voyage had been chill and stormy, so that when Marseilles was reached,
Hector Darcy was seized with a conviction that it would be injudicious
for him to risk the dangers of an English spring, and that wisdom
pointed out a preliminary sojourn in the sunny South.  This being the
case, it was only natural that he should betake himself to the hotel
where his friends the Savilles were located, and so make a convenient
fourth in their excursions.  It would have been difficult to find a
pleasanter party with whom to travel, for father, mother, and daughter
were all in holiday mood, rejoicing in the prospect of home, and a
reunion with that redoubtable Arthur, whose exploits and excellences
were detailed a dozen times a day.  They were so happy together,
moreover, and there was so friendly an understanding between them, that
they made an agreeable contrast to those numerous family parties who
reduce a stranger to a condition of misery by their mutual bickerings.
So far from labouring under the impression that any manners were good
enough for the members of their own family, the Saville trio were even
more punctiliously courteous to each other than to strangers, and that
despite the fact that parents and child were on terms of much greater
intimacy than is usual in such relationships.

Peggy's pride in her father was beautiful to behold, and in the presence
of strangers she paid him a respect so profound that those same
strangers would have been vastly surprised if they could have seen her
rumpling his hair in private, and tying his moustache in a neat little
festoon round his nose, while mother and daughter never seemed to
outgrow the joy of being together again after the years of separation.

"Oh, my Peg, what should I do without you?"  Mrs Saville would cry on
those too frequent occasions when a recurrence of the weary Indian fever
came upon her, and Peggy nursed and comforted her as no hired attendant
could ever do.  "Oh, my Peg, what should I do without you?  What _shall_
I do, when you leave me to fly away to a home of your own?  You have
spoiled me so much during these last years that I don't know what will
become of me without you, darling."

"I shall never marry, dear," returned Peggy comfortably.  "I'll stay at
home like a good little girl, and wheel my mammie in a Bath chair.
Marriage is a luxury which is forbidden to an only daughter.  Her place
is to stay at home and look after her parents!"  But at this Mrs
Saville looked alarmed, and shook her head in emphatic protest.

"No, no--that's a wrong idea!  I want you to marry, dear, when the right
time comes.  I have been too happy myself to wish to keep you single.
Marriage is the best thing that can happen to a woman, if her husband is
as good and kind and noble as your father.  I'm not selfish enough to
spoil your life for my own benefit, Peggy; but when the times comes,
remember I shall be very, very particular about the man you choose."

  "Where, and how, shall I earliest meet him?
  What are the words that he first will say?"

chanted Peggy, with so disastrous an attempt at the correct tune that
Mrs Saville shook with laughter, despite the pain in her head, and
Hector Darcy, entering the room, demanded to know the nature of the
joke.

"I was singing a little ditty, and mother derided me, as usual.  People
always laugh when I sing, and declare that the tune is wrong.  They
don't seem to understand that I'm improving on the original.  We were
discussing my future husband, and the serenade was in his honour,"
explained Peggy with an unconscious serenity, at which her two
companions exchanged glances of astonishment.

"He is quite an imaginary hero as yet," Mrs Saville explained hastily,
"but the subject having been introduced, I was explaining to Peggy that
I should be extremely difficult to satisfy, and could not consent to
spare her to a man who did not come up to my ideal in every respect."

"And Peggy herself--what does she say?  Has she an ideal, too, and what
shape does it take, if one may ask?" queried Hector, with an
embarrassment of manner which the mother noticed, if the daughter did
not.

Mrs Saville shaded her eyes with her hands and gazed keenly across the
room to where the two figures stood in the window, the man so tall and
imposing, the girl so small and dainty in her pretty white dress.

"Oh, I'm not exacting," said Peggy coolly.  "I'm going to marry a man
with `heaps of money and a moustache, and a fireplace in the hall,' as
Mellicent used to say when we planned out our future in the old school-
days.  Dear old Mill!  I wonder if she is as funny as ever, and if she
still mixes up her sentences in the same comical way.  I shall be
terribly disappointed if she doesn't.  Five, six more weeks before I see
her and all the other vicarage people, and already I'm in a ferment of
impatience.  Every mile we travel nearer home, the more I long for the
time to come; and when we get to London I really don't know how I shall
last out the fortnight before I go down to the country."

"Would it help matters if we invited Mellicent to come and join us in
London?  She would enjoy the experience of living in an hotel and house-
hunting with us.  You can write and ask her, dear, if you like," said
Mrs Saville fondly; and Peggy clasped her hands together in one of the
old ecstatic gestures.

"How s-imply lovely!  Mother dear, you are an admirable person.  There
is nothing in the world I should like so much, and it would be so wise,
too, for Mellicent and I would have time to get through our first
floodgates of talk before I met the others, so that I should not be torn
asunder by wanting to speak to every one at the same time.  It will be a
wild dissipation for the dear old girl to stay in an hotel, and she does
enjoy herself so beamingly when she is out for a holiday that it's a
pleasure to behold her.  I'll write this very minute!"

The invitation was despatched forthwith, and such a rhapsodical
acceptance received by return of post as effectually dispelled Peggy's
fears lest her friend might have outgrown her old peculiarities.
Mellicent at twenty-one was apparently as gushingly outspoken, as
amazingly irrelevant, as in the days of short frocks and frizzled locks,
and the expectation of meeting her in four short weeks lent added zest
to Peggy's enjoyment of her new surroundings.

The headquarters of this happy party was at an hotel situated on the
hill behind Cannes, and every morning a carriage waited at the door, to
drive them to the different places of interest in the neighbourhood.
They bought curious plaques and vases at the Vallauris pottery, went
over the scent manufactory at Grasse, where mountains of rose leaves and
violets are converted into fragrant perfumes, and drove along the
exquisite Cornichi road, which winds round the hillside, and affords a
view of the Mediterranean lying below, blue as a sapphire in the summer
sunshine.  In the afternoons Mrs Saville would retire to rest, tired
out by the morning's exertions, and Peggy would say plaintively:

"Father dear, could you bear the reflections that your only daughter was
pining for an ice and a box of chocolates, and that you had refused to
indulge her for the sake of a few miserable rupees!" and the colonel
invariably replying in the negative, she would array herself in her
smartest frock, and repair with him to Rumpelmeyer's, who, as every one
who has stayed in the Riviera knows full well, is at once the most
wonderful and the most extortionate confectioner who ever tempted the
appetites of men.

At every visit Peggy and her father groaned afresh at the price of the
bonbons displayed so daintily in their satin boxes; but though they
agreed that it was impossible to indulge any more in such extravagance,
they invariably succumbed to temptation, the colonel ejaculating, "It's
a poor heart that never rejoices.  We shall be young only once in our
lives, Peg, so we might as well enjoy ourselves while we can," and Peggy
explaining to her scandalised mother that the expenditure was really an
economy in the end, since she would keep all the pretty cases, fill them
with jujubes, and present them as Christmas presents to deserving
friends!

At Paris Hector Darcy bade his friends farewell, and Peggy bore his
departure in philosophical fashion.  It had been delightful having his
company, for it had seemed like a "bit of home," but he would have been
dreadfully in the way in Paris, where the avowed business of the day was
the purchase of clothes and fripperies.  Mrs Saville and her daughter
prepared for the fray with every appearance of enjoyment, and though the
colonel professed a horror of shopping, he yet manifested an agreeable
interest in their purchases.

"I can't afford to give you _carte blanche_, with all the expenses of
the new house before us," he explained, "but one or two pretty frocks
apiece you must and shall have, while we are on the spot; so go ahead
and make yourself smart, and I'll brace my nerves to face the bill."

There was no fear that Miss Peggy would not go ahead in such an
occupation.  The only difficulty was that she went ahead too fast; but
by dint of forbearance, mingled with judicious firmness, the choice was
made at last, and in due time the dresses came home, the bills were
paid, and Colonel Saville, blessing Providence that he had not six women
to dress instead of two, hurried on the day of departure from a city of
such ruinous fascinations.

On one happy spring morning, then, behold the Saville trio once more
nearing the white cliffs of Old England--blessed travellers, whose exile
was over, and who could look forward to spending the rest of their lives
in that dear old country which, despite its rain and fog, must ever be
the dearest in the world to true-born Britons.

They stood together, amidst the bustle of arrival, looking with
sparkling eyes at the well-remembered scene, for there was no necessity
to hurry for the train, and Colonel Saville, with all a soldier's
intolerance of a scramble, decided to wait on board until the general
exodus was over.  "Then we will get a porter to take our boxes quietly
ashore," he explained to his companions; and, as if his words had been
overheard, at that very moment a candidate for that post came up from
behind.

"Carry your boxes, sir?  Can I carry your boxes?" cried a breezy voice,
at the sound of which Peggy gasped, Mrs Saville laid her hand over her
heart, and the colonel wheeled round to confront Arthur himself, taller,
broader, handsomer than ever.

"My boy!" he cried brokenly.

"Arthur!" gasped his mother, and lay sobbing on the dear, strong
shoulder, while Peggy stroked the tails of his coat, and assiduously
licked away the tears which would insist upon flowing down her cheeks.
Why cry, when she was so happy?  The thing was absurd!  Why do anything
but laugh, and dance, and sing with mirth, when at long, long last they
were all four together, and Arthur stood before her in solid flesh and
blood?

"How tall you are!  Taller than your father, my dear big son!"

"How good it is to see you again, my boy!  We have wearied for this
day."

"Oh, Arthur, what a big moustache!  What a dear you look!  We never,
never expected to see you before we got to London."

"I was not sure of coming, but I worked it somehow, for I could not wait
an hour longer than was necessary.  Peg, you're a lady growed!  I looks
towards you!  Oh, let us be joyful!  This is grand to be together again,
with no more miserable partings ahead.  Welcome to England, mother!
First step on the old land--eh?  Feels nice and sound beneath your feet,
doesn't it?  Just the sort of solid, durable old place to take root in
after a roaming life!"  And Arthur led his mother on shore, rattling
away in his old merry style, though the tears shone in his eyes also,
and his voice was not so clear as it might have been.

The years that had passed since he had seen his parents last had not
been altogether easy ones for him.  He had had to face the bitterest
disappointment of his life, to adapt himself to a new and uncongenial
sphere, and, in spite of all his courage, there had been moments when
the task had seemed too heavy to bear.  It had been an effort to write
cheerfully, and to refrain from repinings over his lost hopes, but he
had made the effort, and he was rewarded for his forbearance a hundred
times over in this moment of meeting, as he noticed the hollows in his
mother's cheeks, and the grey locks on his father's brow.  It had been
hard enough for them as it was.  He was thankful he had not laid on them
the additional burden of his own sufferings.

The reunited family travelled up to town together, and dined in a
private room in the hotel, so that they might be able to talk without
interruption.  Arthur was, of course, the hero of the occasion, and was
handed about from one to another of his adoring relatives in a manner
which would have been amusing to an onlooker.  First of all Mrs Saville
claimed him, and they sat on the sofa together, stroking each other's
hands like a charming pair of lovers, as a mother and grown-up son
should always be.  Then she cast an apologetic glance at her husband,
and made an excuse to move her position, when Colonel Saville took
possession of his "boy," and the two tall figures leant against the
mantelpiece talking "manny talk," as Peggy expressed it, and smoking
their cigarettes.  Finally it was Peggy's own turn, and she sat perched
on Arthur's knee, gazing into the dear, handsome face which had always
been her ideal of manly beauty.

"Fancy, Arthur, just fancy, we are grown-up ladies and gentlemen!  I am
twenty-one, and you are twenty-six!  Doesn't it seem wonderful?  You
look so handsome, dear, so big and important!  I suppose you are
important, aren't you?  What is your chief like?  Does he appreciate
you?  Does he defer sufficiently to your advice?  Between ourselves, the
English Government isn't so well managed as I could wish.  There is a
want of firmness in dealing with Foreign Powers which annoys me greatly.
Next time you get into a muddle at the War Office, just tell them to
apply to me, and I'll set them straight!  If I could get the chance of
being Minister of War for a couple of days, I'd settle them!  No shilly-
shally for me I I'd show them how the thing ought to be done!"--and
Peggy wagged her head in a fierce and defiant manner, which sent Arthur
into a peal of laughter.

"Not any more burdened by modesty than you used to be, I perceive, young
lady.  I'll be pleased to pass on your message.  The chief is a
conscientious fellow, and feels his responsibility so much that it will
doubtless be a relief to him to know that Peggy Saville is to the
rescue.  I'll introduce you to him some time soon, when you can have an
opportunity of airing your views."

"I should like that.  I suppose we shall have any amount of invitations
when we are really settled, but just at first we want to devote all our
energies to house-hunting.  We are going to drive to the agent's first
thing to-morrow morning, to see what he has to offer us, and then
Mellicent arrives in the afternoon.  You knew she was coming, didn't
you, and that I am going home with her at the end of a fortnight?"

Arthur chuckled softly to himself.

"Chubby in London!  What delirious excitement!  I must try to go about
with you sometimes, for it will be great to hear her remarks.  She has
never been in town for more than a few hours at a time on a shopping
expedition, and has everything to see.  Chubby has developed into a very
creditable specimen, I'd have you know, and she don't appreciate being
called Chubby no more.  Consequently, I make a point of addressing her
by no other name!  When she gets into a rage she looks surprisingly like
the fat little girl of a dozen years back."

"Too bad!" cried Peggy, laughing.  "None of that sort of thing while she
is here, remember!  No one shall tease my visitors but myself.  I'm
simply longing to see the dear old girl, and hear all the news about
everybody.  Rob is at The Cedars, they say, so I must wait to see him
there, but Rosalind is in town.  Oh, Arthur, do you see much of her?  Do
you meet her often?  Is she a great beauty, and does every one talk
about her and make a fuss of her wherever she goes, as we used to
imagine they would do when she grew up?  Do tell me all about Rosalind!"

Arthur's face stiffened in a curious, unnatural fashion, and his lips
lost their laughing curve, and grew straight and hard.  The sparkle died
out of his face, and he looked a boy no longer, but a man, and a man who
had not found his life too easy.  He was astonishingly like his father
at that moment, and both mother and sister noted the fact.

"Oh, that would be a long story, and would take up too much time.  For
Rosalind's doings, see the society papers," he cried, with an
indifference too elaborate to be genuine.  "To-morrow's issue will no
doubt inform you that she is at some big function to-night, wearing a
robe of sky-blue silk, festooned with diamonds and bordered with rubies.
That's the proper style of thing, isn't it, for a society belle?  I see
her occasionally.  Lord Darcy is the kindest of friends, and I have
always a welcome at his house.  I don't go very often, but I meet them
out, and am vouchsafed a dance, or ten minutes' conversation, if nobody
more important is on the scene.  Rosalind is an important personage
nowadays, and can't waste her time on the likes of me; but she is
devoted to you, Peg, and will rush round to see you the moment you let
her know that you are at home."

But Peggy set her lips, and privately resolved to be in no hurry to
apprise Rosalind Darcy of her return.  No one who considered herself too
grand for Arthur should have the chance of associating with his sister.
Dear, darling Arthur!  Did he still care, then?  Was Rosalind's
beautiful face still a Will-o'-the-wisp to dazzle and ensnare his heart,
and was it possible that she, or any mortal woman, could have the
hardihood to resist Arthur Saville when he came to woo?  Peggy sat
silent, but her heart formed a voiceless prayer--a prayer that if in the
future trouble must come, she might be the one to bear it, and that
Arthur might be shielded from a second crushing disappointment.



CHAPTER FIVE.

The next day the Savilles lost no time in consulting the agent who had
been commissioned to advertise for houses on their behalf, and he in his
turn presented them with a list of a dozen places which were for sale,
eight of which were obviously unsuitable, and none in the very least
like Peggy's ideal abode.  This was a bitter disappointment to the
expectant trio, and the disappointment was not softened by the offhand
and independent manner in which they were treated, for the agent hinted
at inordinate expectations, smiled openly at Peggy's inquiry about a
moat, and floated off to attend to another inquirer, as if any other
subject were worth considering when the question of Colonel Saville's
future home was on the _tapis_!

Mrs Saville left the office with a crestfallen air, but her husband and
daughter stalked forth with their most military stride, and exchanged
glances of kindling irritation on the doorstep.

"Insubordinate wretch!" cried the colonel, the ends of his moustache
looking fiercer than ever, and his eyes gleaming with anger, for after
ruling as despot over his regiment for so many years, the lack of
deference shown by a mere civilian was a distinct trial to the flesh.
"There's a good deal to be said for our friends the natives after all,
Peg!  If one of them had dared to treat me like that--"

"Just so!" assented Peggy.  "I'm with you, father.  I _do_ like people
to tremble at my nod, and in this land of freedom no one seems in the
least afraid of us.  It's disgraceful.  We had better take the train,
and look at this Uplands place.  It seems the most likely of any on the
list, so I suppose we ought to see it."

To the Uplands, then, the trio betook themselves, to find disappointment
number two, for the name had evidently been bestowed in a spirit of
satire on a house situated in a valley, and shut in by a network of
trees.  The rooms smelt like so many vaults, and presented a cheerful
pattern of mould upon the walls, while even Peggy's ardour could not
face the task of reducing a wilderness into a garden.  A drive of three
miles brought the explorers to yet another desirable residence of so
uncompromisingly bleak and hideous an aspect that they drove away from
the gates without examining the interior, and returned to town fatigued
and discouraged.

"But we could not expect to find what we wanted the very first day,"
Peggy reminded herself cheerily.  "Besides, Mellicent is coming!  That
is quite enough happiness for one day.  In two more hours she will be
here.  I'll go downstairs at five o'clock, and wait for her in the
hall."

When five o'clock arrived, however, a brother officer came to call upon
Colonel Saville, and Peggy was delayed several minutes longer than she
intended, so that when she repaired downstairs it was a little past the
hour when Mellicent was due.  It was quite likely that the train had
been behind time, or that difficulties in getting luggage put on a cab
might have delayed her arrival, and Peggy devoutly hoped that this had
been the case, so that she might still be in time to give a friendly
welcome.  The hall was, as usual, crowded with visitors.  An American
contingent chatted merrily together in one corner; a French marquise
stared around through a gold-rimmed lorgnette; and the usual array of
family parties lolled on ottomans and sofas, scrutinising the passers-
by, and exchanging whispered criticisms, which were neither so
complimentary nor so subdued as might have been desired.  A stout lady
and two slim daughters, looking more like fashion-plates than Peggy
could have believed it possible for any human creatures to do, stood
discussing a knotty point together in the centre of the floor, their
voluminous skirts shutting out the view beyond.

Peggy made a _detour_ to the side, caught sight of a broad, blue serge
back, looking broader than ever from contrast with sylph-like forms, a
coil of yellow hair beneath a sailor hat, and the side of a crimson
cheek.  Mellicent!  Of course it was Mellicent!  There she stood, the
poor dear thing, a statue of misery in the midst of the fashionable
crowd, a roll of shawls clutched in one hand, her dress thick with dust,
and her hair blown into disorder.  The critics on the benches sniggered
and whispered to one another, and the French marquise examined her
through the lorgnette with unconcealed amaze; but at the sight of the
familiar figure Peggy's heart leapt within her, for she saw again the
ivy-covered vicarage, and the shabby, sunny schoolroom in which she had
spent such happy days.  A hand clutched Mellicent's arm in ecstatic
grasp, and a tremulous voice spoke in her ear.

"Mellicent, _darling_!  Is it really you?"

"Oh, my goodness, Peggy, have you come at last?  Nobody knew where you
were, and they said they'd send, and it's simply awful the way these
wretches stare!" cried Mellicent in a rush, "They sit round in rows, and
glare as if they had nothing in the world to do but quiz the poor new
arrivals as they come in at the door."

"Which, my dear, is precisely the state of the case.  It _is_
disconcerting, especially when you arrive in the evening, after a
tempestuous Channel passage, and step into a hall aglow with diamonds
and eye-glasses; but turn about is fair play!" cried Peggy reassuringly.
"To-morrow you and I will quiz in our turn, and just think how we shall
enjoy it.  Father and I have sat together for hours, criticising and
inventing histories, and you have no idea how entertaining it is.
You'll simply love it."

"No, I sha'n't.  It's unkind and cruel, and must make people simply
dread coming in.  If I were the manager, I wouldn't allow it!" declared
Mellicent in righteous wrath; then her eyes turned to her companion, and
a tardy realisation of the position seemed to dawn upon her.  "Oh,
Peggy!" she cried, and again, "Oh, Peggy!  I'm _so_ glad to see you
again.  It has seemed such a long, long time since you went away, and
there was no one like you--no one who could ever take your place."

Peggy gave an affectionate little grip to the blue serge arm, but made
none of the protests which usually follow such an announcement.  Modesty
not being her strong point, she saw no reason to dispute Mellicent's
assertion, so smiled instead, and cried reassuringly:

"Never mind, I'm back again now, and never going away no more!  Dear old
Chubs, you look so fresh, and pink-and-white and Englishy, that it does
me good to see you.  This is our sitting-room, and you must come in and
say how do you do to father and mother, and have some tea.  Father is
going out with a friend presently, and mother will have a rest in her
bedroom, so we shall have a cosy little chat by ourselves.  Don't look
alarmed!  They are not a bit fierce, I assure you, but a most mild and
agreeable old couple."

As she spoke Peggy threw open the door of the sitting-room, and the mild
and agreeable couple bestowed the kindliest of greetings upon their
young visitor; but the surroundings were all so strange and formal that
country-bred Mellicent was overpowered, and could only blush and stammer
in school-girl fashion.  Her own perfect consciousness of the fact added
fuel to her embarrassment, and a full-length mirror at the opposite side
of the room presented such an exasperating contrast of rustic
awkwardness and dainty grace, as she and Peggy stood side by side, that
her heart died down within her.  Poor Mellicent! her new coat and skirt
had been made by the very best dressmaker in the village, and had been
considered a miracle of elegance by the admiring home circle; so that
she had looked forward to making quite a triumphant entrance, and now
here she was, looking her very worst, and conscious of a dozen
shortcomings as she looked at her friend's graceful figure.  Peggy's
features still retained their miniature-like faultlessness of outline,
her pretty hair was coiled about her head in fantastic fashion, she bore
herself with even more than the old assurance, and rustled about the
room in a gown of Parisian manufacture.  A little chill of strangeness
and depression settled down on Mellicent's spirits.  For the last month
she had lived in constant expectation of this visit, had built a fairy
edifice of dreams concerning it, and already the foundations were
beginning to totter.  The great hotel, with its crowd of critical
inmates, was terrifying to the country-bred girl, the graciousness of
her host and hostess appeared formal, when compared with the warm-
hearted cordiality of her Irish mother, and even Peggy herself seemed
transformed into another person.  It was no longer Peggy, it was
Mariquita, and Mariquita a dozen times more self-possessed and imposing
than in the days of old.

When Colonel and Mrs Saville left the room, Mellicent watched with awed
eyes an interview which took place between Miss Peggy and a waiter whom
she had summoned to bring a supply of fresh tea.  There were several
other matters to discuss regarding the despatch of letters and parcels,
and the severe though courteous manner in which the young lady conducted
the conversation, reduced the listener to a condition of speechless
amazement.  When the door closed behind the man, Peggy met the stare of
the horrified blue eyes, and put a laughing inquiry as to the nature of
her offence.

"I don't know how you _dare_ talk to him like that!" stammered Mellicent
in return.  "He is ever so much older than you, and looks so--so
dignified and grand, and you order him about, and tell him to be
careful, and send him running up and downstairs.  I don't know how you
can do it.  I'm nervous enough about finding fault with the servants at
home, but with a stranger!  A man!  I could never summon up courage to
find fault, no matter what mistakes he made.  And you are so cool about
it!"

"My dear, I'm used to it.  Consider the position I have had to fill
these last three years in Indiah!" drawled Miss Peggy, and leant her
head against the cushions of her chair with an exhausted air, which
seemed to imply that she had come straight from the duties of Government
House itself.  Then suddenly she straightened herself, and attacked the
teapot.

"I forget if you take sugar in your tea.  So few people do nowadays.
And cream?  It's rather strong, I'm afraid.  Be sure to tell me if it's
exactly as you like."

"Thank you!" murmured Mellicent faintly.  She put the cup down on a
table close at hand, and fumbled nervously with her gloves.

"P-Peggy!"

"Yes, dear."

"Peg-gy!"

"Yes, Mellicent, what is it?"

"Oh, Peggy, I feel--I feel so uncomfortable!  It's all so strange and
different from what I expected.  I thought I should feel at home the
moment I saw you--but I don't, not a bit.  You look so grown-up and
proper, and your dress is so grand, and you have done your hair like the
people in the fashion-books, and I never can make out how on earth they
twist it in and out...  We are the same age, but you seem ever so much
older, and I don't feel that it is you at all."

"The inference is, that I never _was_ proper, nor tidy, nor well-dressed
in the old days!  Not very complimentary to me, I must say," began Peggy
lightly, and then caught sight of a tear-drop glittering on Mellicent's
eyelashes, which sobered her very quickly.  Crying?  No, surely not; yet
tears were there, undeniable tears, filling the blue eyes, and rolling
slowly down over the pink cheeks.  Peggy dropped down on her knees, and
clasped her hands round the plump blue waist.

"Why, Mill, what is it?  What grieves you, dear?  What have I done, or
said, or looked--horrid thing that I am!--to vex you within ten minutes
of your arrival?  I never, never meant it!"

"You haven't done anything!  It's my own fault.  I'm sorry to be so
silly, Peggy, but all this time I have been longing and longing to see
you, and thinking that it would be just the same as in the old days;
but, oh, Peggy, we've led such different lives, and it's not the same--
oh, it's not the same at all!  I have stood still, but you have moved
on, and there's such a big, big difference.  I realised it all of a
sudden, and began to cry like a baby, but it's not your fault.  It's
only because I am so fond--so fond of you, Peggy, and so sorry to
think--"

"You dear, sweet goose!  Stop crying this minute, and listen to me.
There is no difference between us, and it's going to be _exactly_ the
same.  You are Mellicent Asplin, and I'm Peggy Saville, and after my
very own people I love the dear old vicaragers more than any one else in
the world.  I never change in my affections, and in other respects the
day may yet dawn, my love, when you may wish that I had altered
considerably more than I have.  Will it help you to recognise me if I
pull your hair, eli?--or tickle you under the chin, eh?--or give a nice
little jolt to your elbow just as you lift your cup, eh?" cried Peggy,
illustrating each inquiry in practical fashion, while Mellicent giggled
in the midst of tears, and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.

"D-o-on't!  You'll spoil my dress.  Oh, Peggy, it _is_ good of you, and
I did so want to come, and will you really promise not to be ashamed of
me, if I make stupid mistakes, and look dowdy and horrid when we go out
together?"

"I'll be ashamed of you, and furious into the bargain, if you hint at
such a thing again.  I'm not a snob, thank goodness!  Now sit up, my
dear, and drop sentiment, and attend to tea.  Take a cress sandwich, and
don't cry over it, I beseech you!  If there is one thing more
objectionable than another, it is wet salad.  Tell me all about home,
and every one in it.  Are they looking forward to my advent, and is cook
remembering my favourite puddings?  I've got a present for every one--
such a beautiful white shawl for Mrs Asplin, a tiger skin for your
father's study, some old manuscripts for Esther, as I could not think of
anything she would like better, and--"

"And what for--How very nice!  So kind of you, Peggy, to think of us!"
protested Mellicent, drawing herself up with sudden recollection, but
palpitating with curiosity to hear what her own share might be.  "Esther
hopes to get home while you are with us, but she can't tear herself from
her precious pupils for more than a week.  She has three little boys
whom she is training for school, and teaching Latin and Greek and
mathematics and all sorts of horrid things.  You would hate it, Peggy,
and so would I, but Esther loves it, and grudges every moment she is
away."

Peggy laughed.

"I can imagine it!  The little rascals scrawling substantives on their
slates--`O frog--To a frog--By, with, or from a frog!' and Esther's
solemn distress over a wrong termination.  Isn't it a blessing that we
are made differently, and that some people are born with such wonderful
patience and forbearance?  I pity their poor little knuckles if _I_ were
in charge.  But then I was always hastily inclined.  Your father used to
say that Esther and Rob had far more of the scholarly spirit than Rex,
though he must have worked hard to get through his examinations so well.
Dear old Rex, how I should love to see him again!  It seems so funny to
think of him as a full-fledged doctor, with a practice of his own!  How
does he like living in the North, and how does he get on?"

Mellicent shrugged her shoulders uncertainly.

"Pretty well, only it's such a disgustingly bracing place that no one is
ever ill.  Rex says it is most depressing to look out of the windows and
see the healthy faces!  He gets so tired waiting for patients who never
come.  I stayed with him for a week in the winter, and whenever the bell
rang we used to rush out into the hall, and peer over the banisters to
see who was there, and if it was a patient Rex kept him waiting for ten
minutes by his watch, to pretend that he was busy, though he was really
dying to fly downstairs at once.  He makes very little money, and father
has to help him a good deal; but last month something happened which he
hopes will help him on.  The mayor of the town had a carriage accident
just opposite his house, and was nearly killed.  Wasn't it luck for Rex?
He was so pleased!  The mayor was carried into the house, and could not
be moved for days, and the papers were full of `Dr Asplin this, and Dr
Asplin that,' as if he was the biggest doctor they had!  The mayoress
seems to have taken a fancy to him too, for she begs him to go to their
house as often as he likes, without waiting to be asked.  It will be
nice for Rex to have some friends in the town, for he daren't go far
from home.  Oswald and his wife live within an hour's rail, and often
invite him there, but he is afraid to go, in case a patient _should_
appear!"

"Oswald's wife!  How strange it sounds!  I have never heard anything
about her, and am so curious to know what she is like!  What account did
Rex bring when he came home from the wedding?"

"He said he couldn't attempt to describe her, but that you could meet
seventy-six girls exactly like her any day of the week.  Rather pretty,
rather fair, rather nice, rather musical!  Everything _rather_, and
nothing _very_! and thinks Oswald the most wonderful man in the world.
She can't be very clever herself, if she thinks that, can she?  Oswald
was always a regular dunce!"

"Oh, `dunce' is too strong a word, Chubby!  He was not brilliant, but
you must remember that he suffered from contrast with his companions.
Rex was very bright, if he was not exactly clever, and it is not often
that you come across such a really scholarly boy as Rob Darcy!"

Peggy busied herself with the arrangement of the tea-tray without
glancing in her friend's direction, and with an air of studied
carelessness.  She herself knew that she had dragged Rob's name into the
discussion for no other object than to set Mellicent's ready tongue to
work on a subject about which she was longing for information, and she
was alarmed lest her intention might be suspected.  Mellicent, however,
had retained her comfortable obtuseness, and rose to the bait with
innocent alacrity.

"Well, I don't know if _you_ call it scholarly to think of nothing in
the world but beetles, and grubby little plants that no one ever heard
of before; but _I_ call it idiotic.  He is worse than Esther, because,
after all, schoolboys are human creatures, and sometimes you can't help
liking them, though they are so tiresome, but nobody could love a
beetle!  I said so once to Rob, and he snubbed me dreadfully, and talked
at me for half an hour.  I didn't understand half he said--for it was
all in technical beetley language, but it was meant to prove that it was
wrong to say anything of the sort, or refuse to see the beauty hidden
away in the meanest created thing."

"Quite true!  I agree with Rob.  He was perfectly right."

"But, Peggy, a beetle!  And to care for nothing else!  You have no idea
what a regular old hermit Rob has become.  He is perfectly wrapped up in
beetles!" cried Mellicent, with a descriptive elegance of diction, at
which her hearer shuddered visibly.  "He takes no interest in anything
else!"

Peggy smiled, and her head took a complacent tilt.

"That's bad!  That will have to be altered.  He'll take interest in
_me_, my dear, or there'll be trouble!  I believe in a man devoting
himself to his work, but Rob is too nice to be allowed to bury himself
completely.  I must rouse him up!  A fortnight from now we will meet
again, and the treatment will begin.  Meanest creatures are all very
well in their way, but superior ones demand their own share of
attention.  Rob always did as I told him, and he will not disappoint me
now."

Mellicent gazed at her friend in reflective fashion.  She called up
before her a picture of Rob's great stooping form, his shaggy head, and
overhanging brows, and contrasted it mentally with that of the slim
little, neat little, prettiest of elf-like figures before her.  No, it
was not in the least likely that Rob would disappoint Peggy Saville.
"Those dreadful Savilles" had now, as ever, the power of enforcing
obedience from their vassals.

"But all the same," she repeated obstinately, "but all the same he would
have liked you better if you had been a beetle!"



CHAPTER SIX.

The next morning was devoted to another house-hunting expedition,
unsuccessful as its predecessor, while in the afternoon came a fresh
excitement, in the shape of a call from Arthur's "chief," accompanied by
his wife and daughter.  Mr Rob had had a slight acquaintance with
Colonel Saville years before, so that the interview lost some of the
stiffness incidental to such occasions; and while the two men talked
together in one corner of the room, their wives exchanged condolences on
the ever-fruitful subject of domestic arrangements, and the three girls
cast curious glances at one another in the intervals of conversation.

"I am afraid you must find the weather chilly.  Our English springs are
very treacherous!" remarked Miss Rollo properly, turning her card-case
round and round in her hands, and blinking rapidly with a pair of shy
grey eyes, veiled by eyelashes of extraordinary length and silkiness.
As the only child of distinguished parents, Miss Eunice Rollo was a
personage of some importance in society; but she appeared much more
afraid of the two girls than they were of her, and kept her eyes fixed
so persistently on the carpet that Mellicent enjoyed an unusual
opportunity of indulging a favourite pastime, and sat braced against the
back of her chair, staring stolidly up and down, down and up, until she
could have passed an examination on the minutest detail of the
stranger's appearance and clothing.  As for Peggy, she prattled away on
the engrossing subjects of sun and rain, while her thoughts went off on
an excursion of their own, and busied themselves with criticisms on the
new visitor.

"Eunice by name, and Eunice by nature!  A more Eunicey creature I never
beheld.  Grey eyes like Mrs Asplin...  I could love her for those
alone, but _so_ solemn!  I'd like to wake you up, my dear, and make you
look more like a real live girl, and less like a marionette.  The way
that Mellicent stares is disgraceful.  She must be made to stop."

Peggy cleared her throat in meaning fashion, met the wide blue eyes and
frowned a warning.  Any other girl in the world would have understood
and obeyed; but Mellicent only gaped the more, raised questioning
eyebrows, and even mouthed a dumb inquiry.  Peggy screwed up her face
into a vicious glare of anger, at which moment, it is needless to say,
Eunice seized the opportunity to lift her eyes from the carpet.  For one
second amazement held her motionless, then she fell to work on the card-
case with redoubled zeal, and tilted her hat over her face.  Her eyes
could not be seen, but her lips were twisted on one side, and her cheeks
grew suddenly, mysteriously pink.  Was she laughing?  Was she angry?
Peggy could not tell, but she felt an intense curiosity to discover, and
a dawning suspicion that Eunice was perhaps not quite so "Eunicey" after
all.

"It is very nice to come home to the old country again, and to see all
our friends.  Miss Asplin and I had lessons together for four years, so
that, as you may imagine, we have a great deal to talk over now that we
have met again," she explained; and Miss Rollo replied with elaborate
politeness:

"I can indeed.  It must be delightful I hope you will bring Miss Asplin
with you, if you come to us on Wednesday.  We are having a reception in
the evening, with music and tableaux.  It will be a crush, I'm afraid,
but you may find it amusing.  Rosalind Darcy is coming.  She has been
staying in the country for a week, but she will be back by then, and
would like to see you, I'm sure.  I hope you will be able to come."

"Oh, I hope so!"  The answer came simultaneously from two pairs of lips,
and Mellicent drew in her breath with a gasp of pleasure.  It was
beginning already.  What excitement--what joy--what delight!  Only the
first day of her visit, and behold! an invitation to one of the best-
known houses in London, where with her own eyes she should behold those
great people of the world whom she had read about, but never, never
expected to see.  At this rate, Mellicent reflected, she would find
herself on intimate terms at Court before the fortnight was concluded;
and oh! the joy of returning home and speaking in casual tones about
Princes of the Blood, Dukes and Marquises, and Cabinet Ministers, for,
the edification of village hearers!  Her complacency vented itself in a
long postscript to the letter already written to her mother, a
postscript of such characteristic nature as delighted that appreciative
lady, and which was read aloud with much unction to her husband, and a
friend of the family who happened to be paying a call at the time,
whereby, as will be seen, certain things came to pass which would not
otherwise have happened.

The prospect of Mrs Rollo's reception was so dazzling as to throw all
other experiences into the shade; but the two intervening days were full
of excitement, for Peggy was delighted to play "country cousin" for her
friend's benefit, and the two girls drove about from one place of
interest to another, from early morning until late at night.
Westminster Abbey had, of course, special claims on the affections, and
evoked that thrill of mingled awe and patriotism which all true-born
Britons must feel on entering that glorious edifice.  When the voices of
the choristers rang out in the psalms for the morning, Mellicent shed
tears on her Prayer-book, and felt icy-cold all the way down her spine,
and Peggy's eyes flashed fire, and the rare colour burned in her cheeks.

When the service was over the two girls wandered about together gazing
at the monuments, reading the inscriptions which recalled noble deeds,
and exchanging ardent confidences the while.

"I should like to come here every day," said Mellicent softly, "every
single day.  I should like to be a verger, and spend my life in an
abbey.  I think I could be awfully good if I lived here always.  It
makes one feel so small and insignificant, that one wouldn't dare to be
selfish, and think one's own happiness so important.  I can't believe
that it was ever built by men--ordinary common working men.  It seems
like a mountain--a great, wonderful thing that God must have made
Himself, and given to His people."

Peggy looked at her with bright, astonished eyes.

"You dear thing, what a sweet idea!  I feel the same about it; but
perhaps, after all, it was better that men _should_ have made it.  It
must have done _them_ good.  One cannot imagine that a workman in such a
task could remain `common.'  I have read charming stories about men who
have devoted their whole lives to little pieces of carving or ironwork,
to be placed in insignificant corners of old Continental cathedrals.  It
did not trouble them that their work would not be seen; they were so
impressed with the spirit of the place that they simply could not endure
to do less than their very, very best, and were willing to remain poor
all their lives in order to be able to do it.  That's fine!  That's
grand!  None of your miserable scamping spirit there.  The place made
the men, as well as the men the place."

"Yes, yes, that's just what I feel.  I'd like to do something for it
too, if it were only the dusting," sighed Mellicent, passing her finger
along a ledge of wood, and pensively regarding the ridge of dust on her
light kid gloves.  "I assure you, Peggy, the shivers were running down
my back the whole time of that service like a cold-water tap.  I was
freezing!"

"And I was tingling.  Oh, to do something big enough--great enough--to
be brought here when I die, and be laid among these fine old heroes!
Isn't it maddening sometimes to be a woman, and feel penned in, in a
wretched little body?"  Peggy stood still and faced her companion with
kindling eyes.  "At this moment, my dear, the spirit of Hercules is
within me--I feel as if I could lift mountains, and look at _that_."
She held out her hand, staring with intense disfavour at the fragile
little wrist.  "That's my weapon!  If I tried to lift that _bench_, I
should sprain my wrist.  If I work my brain for several hours on end, I
have a sick headache I'm a lion in a cage, dear; a little, miserable,
five-foot cage, and it's no use beating at the bars, for I'll never get
out;" and Peggy stared miserably at the statue of the "third great
Canning" which stood opposite, and sighed her heart out, to think how
impossible it seemed that the name of Mariquita Saville would ever be
emblazoned by his side.

From the Abbey the sightseers drove to the Academy, where they spent a
couple of hours in making their way through the crowded rooms.  Mrs
Saville and her daughter were unaffectedly interested in the pictures,
but Mellicent declared the study of them such a "neck-achey" process
that she soon abandoned the effort, and contented herself with
criticising the people instead.  After living all one's life in
provincial parishes where every inhabitant recognised and saluted the
vicar's daughter, it was a little bewildering to find oneself surrounded
by hundreds of absolutely strange faces; a trifle depressing too, to
one-and-twenty, to realise afresh her own countrified appearance, as
slim-waisted _elegantes_ floated past in a succession of spring
toilettes, each one more fascinating than the last.  Mellicent sat down
on one of the centre couches and gave herself up to despair.

"My sleeves aren't right, and my neck isn't right, and my back isn't
right!  My skirt sticks out where it should be flat, and is flat where
it ought to stick out.  My hat looks like the ark, and my gloves are too
big.  I ought to be superior like Esther, and not care a bit, but I
_do_.  I care frightfully.  I feel a worm, and as it I'd like to crawl
away and hide myself out of sight,"--and Mellicent's fair face clouded
over with an expression of such hopeless melancholy, that Peggy,
catching sight of it, came forward instantly to discover the reason.

"Tired?" she cried cheerily.  "Never mind, we won't be long now, and
then we'll drive home, and you shall be tucked up in bed, and have a
comfy rest.  Sight-seeing _is_ tiring...  Which do you like best?"

"The blue, I think, with the lace edgings.  The body is so sweet, with
all the tiny, lovely little tucks, and the colour would suit my hair,"
said Mellicent plaintively, all unconscious of the open-eyed wonder with
which she was regarded.

"What has your hair to do with it, and how _could_ a body be covered
with tucks?  You are sleepy, dear, and didn't hear what I said.  I asked
what picture you liked best."

"Oh-h, picture!  I thought you meant dresses.  I was thinking about the
dresses--"

"Mellicent Asplin, I'm shocked at you!  You remind me of the visitor to
Paris who was asked how she liked the Louvre, and replied that the Bon
Marche was cheaper for ribbons.  To think that you could sit opposite
some of the finest pictures of the year, and find more enjoyment in
looking at frocks."

"I haven't enjoyed it at all.  I've disenjoyed it horribly.  You
wouldn't like it yourself, if you saw seven hundred and fifty girls, and
each one looked seven hundred times nicer than you did yourself.  I
detest them all, but I hate the blue one worst!  Didn't you see her,
Peggy--pale, _pale_ blue, with white lace and--"

"Poor old Mill.  Come along, dear, we'll go back to the hotel, and not
worry about them any more.  You shall come straight to my room, and I'll
give you a tonic that will do you good."

"I hate tonics.  They taste like rusty spoons.  I'm quite well, and
don't want it."

"We'll see about that.  It's a new brand, warranted to be especially
efficacious in the case of young females.  It isn't in the least like a
rusty spoon, and exercises an exhilarating effect on the spirits.  You
wait and see."

Peggy looked at her friend, and her eyes twinkled.  It was evident that
some mystery was in the air, and that the word `tonic' was used in a
figurative rather than a literal sense.  Mellicent pondered, hit on the
solution of chocolates, and being an inveterate sweet-tooth, found
consolation in the prospect.  Perhaps Peggy was going to present her
with some of the treasures she had brought home from Cannes, in which
case there would not only be the enjoyment of the bonbons themselves,
but the case would remain as a permanent joy and pride.  So fascinating
did the idea appear that it was quite a shook to see a long narrow roll
emerge from the wardrobe when the crucial hour arrived.

"Here is your tonic," said Peggy.  "It has come all the way from India,
and was ordered for you a whole year back.  I didn't tell you what your
present was the other night, for I wanted you to have the fun of opening
it yourself.  I do like opening my own parcels, don't you, and not
knowing what I'm going to see!"

"Oh, I do!  I love it!" agreed Mellicent rapturously, taking the roll in
her arms, and prodding at it with the end of her fingers.  "Peggy, how
sweet of you!  I know I shall like it...  It's very hard, and so
narrow...  I can't imagine what it can be.  Ordered a year ago--that
sounds as if it had to be made.  Is it--er--ornamental or useful?"

"Oh, useful! very, very useful!" cried Peggy, and chuckled with
enjoyment at Mellicent's gallant attempt to hide disappointment beneath
a pretence of satisfaction.

"Oh yes, how nice!  Useful things are much more--_useful_, aren't they?
I believe it's an umbrella, and yet it's rather thick for that.  I can't
imagine what it can be."

"Cut the string and look!  That's the best way out of the difficulty,"
suggested Peggy; and Mellicent followed her advice, and slowly unrolled
the parcel on the bed.  Silver paper came first, rolls of silver paper,
and a breath of that delicious aromatic perfume which seems an integral
part of all Eastern produce, last of all a cardboard cylinder, with
something soft and white and gauzy wrapped around it.  Mellicent
screamed aloud, and jumped about in the middle of the floor.

"It is!  It is!" she cried rhapsodically.  "It's a dress like yours--
like the one that was burned in the fire, and that I loved so much.  But
prettier.  Oh, Peggy, it's prettier!  There are more of the lovely white
silk flowers, and the muslin is softer and finer.  You wicked, wicked
girl, how dare you say it was useful!"

"Because it was true.  You can let Carter make it up, and wear it over
your white silk at the Rollos' on Thursday, and if _that_ isn't useful,
what is, I should like to know?  I wish you could have seen your face
when I said it was useful.  It grew about a yard long."

"I knew it did, though I tried so hard to smile and look pleased.  You
see, Peg, I have nothing but useful things at home, for we can't afford
anything else, and I do so dearly love a taste of luxury now and then.
I simply hate useful presents, and when we get any sent to us they
invariably are of that order, for people say to themselves, `Poor
things, they are not at all well off, better send them something that
will be _of use_.'  And I do assure you, my dear girl, that the
Christmas before last I got four dozen handkerchiefs, and five separate
pairs of gloves.  Gloves I don't mind, for they are _nicely_ useful; but
I nearly spread out all the forty-eight handkerchiefs on the bed, and
wept over them with sheer rage that they weren't something else...  Oh,
you ducky, darling dress!  Sha'n't I look nice!  Peggy Peggy, I do love
you for thinking of it, and giving me such a pleasure.  You can't think
how I shall enjoy being really well-dressed for once in my life."

"I'm so pleased you are pleased.  It's ever so much nicer to give than
to receive.  When my three French dresses came home, I was in a bad
temper for the rest of the day, because the collars were too high and
stuck into my chin, and the dressmaker had not carried out all my
instructions; but I'm enjoying this as much as you are, and shall feel a
reflected glory in your appearance on Thursday.  I'm so glad Arthur will
be there, for it will be a comfort to see one familiar face among the
throng.  I wish--"

"What?"

"Nothing.  It's lovely to be back again; but sometimes one feels a
little lonely when people are all talking together, and going off into
little groups.  In Calcutta it was different, for we knew every one, and
every one knew us.  Is one _always_ disappointed, I wonder, when a thing
happens which one had longed for, for years and years?  I don't know
what I want, but I want _something_!" cried Peggy drearily, and pressed
her hands to her brow, while her friend looked on with sympathetic gaze.

"It's tea!" she declared oracularly.  "It is five o'clock, and you know,
Peggy, you always did get melancholy if tea was later than usual.  Let
us go downstairs and order it at once."

Peggy slid her hand in her friend's arm with a soft explosion of
laughter.

"So we will," she said cheerily.  "It's a capital explanation.  Tea!
Oh, you sensible old Chubby!"



CHAPTER SEVEN.

Two evenings later Peggy edged her way out of the crowd at Mrs Rollo's
reception, and sat down in a corner with a gasp of relief.  Eunice had
been correct in prophesying a crush, for the suite of entertaining-rooms
seemed a solid block of people, and the babel of voices almost drowned
the music, which was being discoursed at intervals by a violinist with a
shock head, a Signor with an Italian name and an English face, and a
lady with an elaborate coiffure, who, in turn, warbled by herself, and
joined in the rendering of impassioned Italian duets.  The accompanist
flourished up and down the piano, and the singers held their music at
arm's length, half-acting the words as they alternately frowned and
smiled, and having gone their separate ways throughout three whole
pages, joined together in a conclusive burst of triumph.  The babel of
talk went on with even greater energy when the last note had died away,
and Peggy pursed up her lips in doubtful compliment.

"_That's_ over, thank goodness!  I don't know what it was all about, but
she said, `Si,' `Si,' a great many times over, and they seemed happy at
the end, so that's satisfactory.  It must be very exhausting to smile so
hard, and sing so loudly at the same time, so I hope other people
appreciated their efforts more than I did."  Peggy sighed, and stifled a
yawn.  She was feeling just a trifle tired and depressed in spirits, for
the day had been a busy one, and the process of dressing for the evening
had been delayed by one of those careless tricks for which she was
famous.  Some trifling alteration having to be made to the belt of her
sash, she had taken it in hand herself, and put it--where?  That was the
question.  Nowhere in any of the three bedrooms could that belt be
found, and while the brougham waited at the door, and an impatient male
tramped up and down, four distracted females rushed to and fro, opening
drawers, ransacking wardrobes, and burrowing beneath beds.  Mrs Saville
grew nervous and hysterical; her husband tugged at his moustache, and
vowed his intention of sending away the brougham and spending the
evening at home if this sort of "foolishness" went on much longer; and
Mellicent was on the point of tears, when at last the missing treasure
was discovered, squashed flat beneath a cushion, in company with a
magazine, a handkerchief, an odd glove, and several stray needles.

Colonel Saville looked very fierce during the drive which followed.  His
light eyes sent out little sparks of fire, and the waxed ends of his
moustache bristled with anger, while Peggy sat opposite him in a little
heap in the corner of the carriage, with her eyebrows peaked into the
old eave-like shape, and the corners of her lips drooping pensively
downward.  The meek little, "Yes, father!"  "No, father!" which replied
to his strictures, would have melted a heart of stone, and Mellicent was
relieved to see the colonel's frown gradually giving place to the usual
good-natured twinkle.

"But you must be more careful, child," he said, "or you and I will
quarrel I can't stand disorderly ways.  You ought to have a place for
everything."

"I have, father, but it's generally in the _other_ place!" sighed Peggy
plaintively, whereat her father laughed, despite himself, and peace was
restored.  He was very tender to his little daughter during the hour
which followed, as he invariably was after anything had occurred to
cause a cloud between them; but though Peggy found no familiar faces in
the throng, her parents were fortunate enough to discover several old-
time friends, so it came to pass that she now found herself alone for
the moment, and thankfully seized the opportunity of a rest.

Ten minutes earlier one of the younger men to whom she had been
introduced had asked to be allowed to pilot her to the refreshment-room,
but she had insisted on sending Mellicent in her stead, and now had the
pleasure of beholding that young lady standing in a distant corner,
enjoying an animated conversation, and looking so fresh and bonnie among
the anaemic town-bred girls, that more than one admiring glance was cast
in her direction.  Peggy's little face softened into a very sweet
expression of tenderness as she watched her friend, and hugged the
thought that she had had some part in giving her the pleasure which she
was now enjoying.  In the pretty white dress, with her hair arranged by
Carter's skilful hands, Mellicent had no cause to be dissatisfied, even
in the midst of this fashionable throng, and the natural girlish
pleasure in looking her best added zest to the evening's enjoyment.
Peggy reflected once more that it was more blessed to give than to
receive, and sitting perched on the ottoman with her little satin shoes
braced against the floor which they barely touched, enjoyed a reflected
pleasure in Mellicent's conversation, blissfully unconscious of the fact
that every expression which flittered over her friend's face was
faithfully reflected on her own.  The worst of being born a mimic is
that on occasions one acts a part without being in the least conscious
of so doing, and so while Miss Peggy fondly imagined herself to be
wearing an expression of dignified repose, in reality her features were
never still for the fraction of a second.  Mellicent smiled--she smiled
also; Mellicent shook her head--she did the same, until all the little
sprays of the white aigrette shook and quivered again; Mellicent
appeared to question her companion--Peggy's eyebrows peaked themselves
in an inquiring arch; Mellicent cast down her eyes and modestly studied
the carpet--prunes and prisms were reflected on Peggy's face in an
attack of the most virulent description.  So it went on for five minutes
on end, the little play being hidden from the surrounding gaze by a bank
of palms, through the boughs of which the unconscious actress studied
her part; but at the end of five minutes something happened which
completely altered the current of Peggy's thoughts.  Mellicent's partner
called attention to something at the opposite end of the room, and the
girl turning to look at it, her understudy naturally followed her
example, and straight-way forgot Mellicent and her doings for the rest
of the evening.

Some one was leaning up against the doorway, studying her in his turn,
and at sight of him Peggy's heart gave a wild dance of agitation.  The
crowds of gaily dressed visitors whizzed round and round like pieces of
glass in the old-fashioned kaleidoscope through which she used to gaze
in the vicarage drawing-room; the branches of the palms swayed about in
extraordinary fashion, and the face staring into her own grew dim and
indistinct.  But it _was_ the same face.  Oh yes!  No one else could
possibly possess those deep-set eyes, those rugged features, that heavy
lock of hair across the brow.  In spite of all reasons to the contrary,
it was Rob himself, and the next moment his well-known voice sounded in
her ear.

"Mariquita!  Little Peggy!  Is this really you?"

"Oh, Rob!" cried Peggy faintly, and could find no other word.  He had
taken the seat beside her, and each gazed into the other's face with
eager eyes, noting the changes which the years had brought to the
familiar features.  Rob's skin was burnt brown by the burning sun of the
lands through which he had travelled, his forehead showed deeply graven
lines, and his cheeks had lost their boyish curve, but the atmosphere of
strength and health and honest manliness remained, and exercised the old
magnetic influence over his companion.  It was like a breath of mountain
air coming into the heated room, to see Rob's face, and hear his hearty
voice.  Peggy drew a deep sigh of contentment, and smiled a happy
greeting.

"It is just as you said it would be, Rob, our meeting like this!  How
long had you been standing there?  Did you recognise me at once?  Why
are you here at all?  I thought you were in the country, and that you
hated going out, and would never accept an invitation if you could help
it!"

"Circumstances alter cases!  I was at the vicarage the other day when
Mellicent's letter arrived, saying you were to be here to-night, and a
sudden temptation seized me to have a look at you, and see what manner
of young lady the years had made of Peggy-Pickle.  I came up this
afternoon, astonished Rosalind by offering to accompany her, and
wandered about the room staring curiously at every girl I met.  I saw
several in pink dresses that might possibly have been you, but if they
had, I should have marched straight home without troubling for an
introduction.  Then I skirmished round to this door, and saw a little
head bobbing about in a way that seemed familiar, and--"

"And please," inquired Peggy meekly, "how do you like me, now you have
found me?  Am I at all what you expected?"

She lifted her face to his in the old mischievous fashion, and Rob
studied it with a thoughtful gaze.  If she hoped to receive a compliment
in reply to her question, she was disappointed.  It was not Rob's way to
pay compliments, and there was, if anything, a tinge of sadness in the
tone in which he said:

"You have changed!  It's inevitable, I suppose, but I have always
thought of you as I saw you last, and don't seem to recognise the new
edition.  You have grown-up, but you've grown-up very small!  There
seems less of you than ever.  Was the climate too much for you out
there?  I should have liked to have seen you looking stronger, Peg!"

"Oh, I'm a wiry little person!" said Peggy lightly.  "You needn't be
anxious about me;" but she coughed as she spoke, and lay back against
the cushions, for really it was rather nice to have Rob anxious about
her, and to see the troubled tenderness in his eyes!  She fluttered her
fan to and fro in a feeble, exhausted fashion, while Rob continued to
stare and to frown.

"You look too much like the rest of 'em.  That's what I complain of!" he
said discontentedly, eyeing the details of her dress, and pointing with
a long brown finger to the bracelets on her wrist.  "All these fixings-
up!  Have you grown into a fashionable young lady, by any chance,
Mariquita?  Are you going to join the social treadmill, and spend your
time in a rush after gaiety and enjoyment? or are you the same little
girl I used to know, who had an ideal of her own, and wanted to do
something grand and noble with her life?  Which of the two is it?  I
can't decide!"

"Oh, Rob!" cried Peggy piteously, and clapped her hands together.  "Oh,
Rob, it's both!  I do want to be good more than anything else in the
world.  That wish is always there, at the very bottom of my heart, and
at any moment, if I were called upon to choose, I would give up
anything--anything! to do what was right.  But I want to enjoy myself
too, and to have some fun, and go about to everything that is going on,
and wear pretty clothes, and be--be admired, and praised, and flattered!
There!  I couldn't say so to any one else, but I always did confide in
you, Rob; and you won't be shocked.  I seem to have two separate sides,
and the worst side is often the strongest.  Do you think it is very
wrong of me, Rob?  I'm so young, you see, so young, and so fond of
amusement!"

"Poor little Peg!" said Rob tenderly.  "Poor little Peg!  You were
always an honest little soul, and owned up about your failings.  Well,
there it is, and you must fight it out for yourself.  No one can help
you in a case like this, and you'll come out all right in the end, so
long as you keep a true heart.  I suppose it's only natural that you
should want your fling.  Most girls do, and find a mysterious pleasure
in gadding about, and dressing themselves up like dolls."  He scanned
her once again with amused, half-angry admiration.  "You are mighty
smart, Miss Mariquita--a very fine bird!  It must have taken a long time
to put on all those feathers.  Are those what you call your feet?  Have
you been going in for the binding system in India, may I ask?"

"What is the matter with my feet?" queried Peggy, in a tone of injury,
as she stretched out two satin slippers, which seemed suddenly to become
of Liliputian dimensions when contrasted with Rob's huge square-toed
shoes.  "They are very useful little feet, and can carry me about just
as well as your great ironclads can carry you.  You used to say yourself
that I walked uncommonly well for a girl."

"I did, and I'm glad to find you have not outgrown the accomplishment.
Do you remember the red Tam o' Shanter, Peggy?  I found it on its peg
when I went to the vicarage after you had left, and walked off with it
in my pocket.  There was a hue and cry when its loss was discovered, for
it had been kept as a sort of fetish, but I refused to restore it.  I'll
give it back to you, though, if you will promise to wear it in the
country when I can see you!"

"I will, with pleasure, every single day when it's not too hot.  Dear
old Tam!  It will remind me of our old times together, when we were so
happy, and thought ourselves so miserable, because lessons were hard, or
our plans went wrong, or we couldn't agree.  But you and I never
quarrelled, Rob, we were always friends, and--"

"Partners!" said Rob softly; and Peggy stared fixedly across the room,
and once again the floor described that curious upward tilt, and a
kaleidoscope whirl of colour flew past.



CHAPTER EIGHT.

Ten minutes later Peggy emerged from behind the cluster of palm-trees,
and laid her hand on Rob's arm to accompany him to the refreshment-room
below.

"You still retain your old weakness for ices, then?" he had asked her,
and the "I--do--so!" which came in reply was so emphatic that it evoked
a hearty laugh of approval.  A group of people standing near at hand
turned round to stare with amused curiosity at the tall man and his
little partner who were on such good terms with each other, and one or
two of the men, recognising Rob, bowed to him with an air of surprise.
Then they passed into a second room, and Peggy was instantly aware that
something unusual was in the air, for every one seemed flocking together
in one corner and listening in charmed silence to the sound of one
flute-like voice.  Peggy had hardly time to catch the sound of a
familiar lisp before there came a quick exclamation of surprise, and a
radiant vision, all pink and white and glitter of diamonds, glided
forward to meet her.

"It's Mawiquita!  It is!  Her own little self!  A hundwed welcomes,
Peggy!  I've just returned to town, and was coming to see you to-morrow,
the vewy first thing.  Lady Norton--evewybody--please excuse me for
running away, but Miss Saville is my vewy deawest fwiend, and I have not
seen her for four whole years, so I really must take possession of her
at once."  Rosalind flashed a glance round the group of deserted
admirers, and swept along by Peggy's side, smiling down from her
superior altitude, and indulging in a string of demonstrative welcomes,
at which Rob scowled with heavy eyebrows.  As for Peggy, she could only
stare, and gasp, and stare again, and blink her eyes, to discover if
this vision were a veritable piece of flesh and blood, or some beautiful
princess out of a fairy-tale, who would suddenly vanish from her sight.
It was one thing to be told that Rosalind was a celebrated beauty, and
to summon up her features in cold mental survey; it was another and more
impressive experience to see the exquisite colouring of the lovely face,
and meet the beguiling glance of the deep blue eyes.  Peggy's heart went
out towards the beautiful creature, and she felt a thrill of complacent
pride in the knowledge that Rosalind had left her other friends on
purpose to enjoy her own society.  They sat down in a corner of the
refreshment-room and smiled at one another shyly, while Rob went in
search of ices, for though there was much to say, it was not easy to
know where to begin, and after four years' separation there is a certain
constraint between even the oldest of friends.

"So this is why Rob turned up to-night.  I might have guessed as much!"
cried Rosalind, laughing.  "But really, Peggy, I have been so accustomed
to thinking of you in India that I never gwasped the idea that you might
be here, till I looked up and saw you walking acwoss the woom with your
head in the air, and the old Mawiquita stwide.  I can't tell you how
glad I am to see you.  You must come and stay with me, dear, and I'll
tell you all my news, and we can go about together.  When can you come?
We shall be in town for some weeks yet, so any time that suits you will
do for me."

"I'm afraid I can't make any promises at present, Rosalind, for we are
house-hunting, and when we find what we want we shall be busy getting
all in order.  The only visit I mean to pay this summer is to Mrs
Asplin at the vicarage, and I am going there with Mellicent in ten days'
time.  Mellicent is here to-night; she is staying with us at the hotel."

"You don't mean it!  Mellicent Asplin here!  How extwaordinary it
seems!"  Rosalind gave a chilly little laugh, and tilted her chin in the
air.  "You are vewy couwageous, Mawiquita.  I should never have dared
such an experiment.  The Asplins are charming in the country, but they
seem out of place in town.  And your first season too!  What possessed
you to saddle yourself with such a hopeless burden as poor fat
Mellicent?"

"Poor fat Mellicent is not hopeless at all; she is so much appreciated
to-night that I've not had a chance of a word with her for the last
hour.  She is not fat, and looks far too bonnie to deserve any pity;
besides, I wanted to see her badly, and didn't care a bit about her
appearance.  I love the Asplins, and would do anything I could to give
them pleasure.  They were unspeakably good to Arthur and to me.  I don't
know what we should have done without them all the time we were alone."

Rosalind's face sobered suddenly, and she gave a struggling sigh.

"You are just the same as ever, I can see, Mawiquita," she said slowly,
"not changed a bit.  I'm so glad you have come home, for I want to speak
to you about--oh, lots of things!  You don't know how often I have
thought of you, and said to myself, `I'll ask Peggy!  I'll see what
Peggy says!'  I've never had a girl fwiend that I cared for so much as
you, and I knew you would say just what you thought, however
disagweeable it might be.  I think it's vewy bwave to say disagweeable
things, because even if people take your advice, they are always cwoss
with you for giving it.  I like people to like me, so I find out what
they want to do, and tell them it is the vewy wisest plan, and they go
away more pleased with me than ever; but I knew you wouldn't do that,
unless you were vewy much changed.  I wanted you to be the same, Peggy,
and I heard some things about you lately which set my mind at rest on
that point.  You still use big words, I hear, and are vewy, vewy
dignified when any one ventures to contwadict you, but not too dignified
to pass your neighbour salt instead of sugar, or to pretend to arrange a
fwiend's sash, and then tie it in such a way that the poor thing dwagged
her chair with her when she twied to rise.  Not too dignified to play
your old twicks still, Peggy Saville."

"Who has been telling tales about me?" cried Peggy wrathfully.  "A
little bird, indeed!  A great big bird, you mean.  A big enough bird to
have kept his own counsel.  It's a poor thing, if one can't have a
little innocent fun in mid-ocean without having it brought up in
judgment against one in a London drawing-room.  I'm disgusted with
Hector!  He might have kept silence out of gratitude, at least.  I never
took any liberties with him."

"Perhaps he would have liked it better if you had," said Rosalind slyly,
and her eyes looked into Peggy's with a meaning glance.  "It's a good
thing I am so fond of you, my dear, or I should have gwown pwetty tired
of your name during the last few weeks.  It was extraordinary how every
conversation with Hector worked wound to Peggy Saville.  We could not
even ask him to take a second cup of tea without being told how many
cups Peggy Saville drank, and what were her views about cweam and sugar.
I used to time him by my watch, and see how long it would be before he
managed to intwoduce the subject, and seven and a half minutes was the
wecord.  The average was five."

"Very gratifying, I'm sure!  Pleased to hear he has such good taste,"
laughed Peggy, trying to carry off her embarrassment by carelessness of
manner.  She was by no means deaf to Rosalind's insinuation, and the
knowledge that haughty Hector had been so favourably impressed by her
fascinations could not fail to be agreeable to a girlish heart.  Hector
prided himself on being the most supercilious of men, and it was a
triumph to have roused him out of his usual indifference.  The love of
power was as strong as ever within Peggy's heart, and, it pleased her to
feel that she could influence this experienced man of the world.  There
are many ways in which temptation comes to a young girl, and perhaps
none more subtle than this, for in the beginning it seems so innocent,
yet it leads so often to disastrous results.  Peggy would have been
horrified if she had been accused of an intention to flirt with Hector
Darcy, and, to do her justice, she was entirely innocent of such a wish,
but she did distinctly hug the thought that it was "fun" to manage him,
and determined in her heart not to throw away the power which she had
gained.

At that moment Rob came back with the ices which he had managed to steer
safely across the room, and Peggy casting about in her mind for a change
of subject, was not at all grateful to Rosalind for repeating her last
remarks for her brother's benefit.

"I am just telling Mawiquita how incessantly Hector has talked about her
since his weturn.  It seems strange that they should know each other so
well.  Nearly two months you were together, weren't you, Peggy?  Two
months is a long time, especially when you are travelling.  It is as
good as two years at home.  I dare say you feel as if you knew Hector
much better than you do Rob, for it is really six years now since you
two saw much of each other."

Rosalind spoke with a guileless sweetness of manner, and nothing could
have been more innocent than the expression of her eyes; nevertheless
Peggy suspected that a deliberate intention to annoy lurked behind the
amicable manner, for it was evident that there was no more sympathy than
of old between the brother and sister.  She flushed indignantly, and was
about to make a heated reply, when two tall figures appeared in the
doorway, and waved an eager greeting.  The older of the two was none
other than Hector Darcy himself--(Tiresome creature! to put in an
appearance at such an inopportune moment!)--and Arthur was his
companion, looking well, what Arthur always _did_ look in his sister's
eyes--the handsomest and most distinguished man in the room.  Peggy had
seen him earlier in the evening, but through all the embarrassment of
meeting Hector with his sister's words still ringing in her ears, she
was acutely conscious of every detail of his meeting with Rosalind; her
little rustling movement of agitation, the flash in his eyes, above all,
the eloquent silence with which hand met hand.  Alas, poor Arthur! no
need to wonder any longer if he cared, with that look on his face, that
tell-tale light in his eye!  After the first quick glance his sister
averted her eyes, as from something sacred, and poured out a flood of
rapid, inconsequent talk to the new-comer.  Hector was unaffectedly
delighted at the meeting, and became unusually lively, as he retailed
items of information about different passengers on board the steamer,
whom he had met since his return to England, while Peggy in her turn had
her own little histories to add to the store.

"You remember the old lady in the alpaca dress who called me a `restful
influence'?  It appears she is the head of the millinery department in
one of the Calcutta shops, and was on her way to Paris to study
fashions.  We ran across her in a restaurant there, and she told us all
about it, and offered to get my hats at wholesale prices.  I thanked her
kindly, but taking note of the fact that she was wearing a purple toque
with trimmings of crimson and green, politely but firmly refused."

"I should think so, indeed!  Terrible old person!  How you ever endured
her as you did, I cannot understand.  Remember young Chamberlain?
Handsome fellow with big nose and square shoulders.  I met him the other
day in Piccadilly with a brand-new wife.  Married the week he came back,
after seven years' engagement.  Introduced me to his wife with as much
side as if no one had ever been married before!"

"How sweet of him!  He was a really nice man.  He always went into the
services on Sunday, and joined ira the hymns, instead of lolling about
at the other end of the deck, like many of the men.  He had some friends
travelling second-class, too, and wasn't a bit ashamed of it, but used
to go and see them regularly.  I hope he will be very, very happy.  Was
she pretty?"

"Not an atom!  Might have been once on a time, perhaps, in the
prehistoric ages, but she is too pale and faded nowadays.  By no means
in her first bloom, I assure you."

"Well, she has lost it in waiting for him, so he would be a mean wretch
if he liked her any the worse.  _Such_ a joke!  You remember that fat
old man with the crimson face who was so furious with little Miss Muir
when she spoke against Gladstone?  He jumped up and down like a Jack in
the Box, and said he was `surprised, madam, that any one of your
intelligence, madam, should be so blinded by prejudice, madam--' You
remember how we looked on from afar, and christened him `A Study in
Scarlet'?  Well, two days ago, mother had a letter from Miss Muir
herself, and they are going to be married in August!  It seems he never
rested until he converted her to his own views, and then he was so
pleased with her for agreeing with him that this is the result.  She
seems so happy, poor old dear, and says that though hot-tempered he has
a warm and loving heart.  I notice that people with especially violent
tempers always take refuge behind the plea of loving hearts!  Whom else
have you seen?"

"I had an invitation to call upon the Shores, and went on Sunday week.
Miss Eveline was in greater form than ever.  I am sure you would have
liked to see her."

Peggy shrugged her shoulders viciously.

"K-r-r-eature!  Don't allude to her in my presence, please.  No one
shall hear me breathe a word about a member of my own sex, but of all
the miserable, contemptible, mean little wretches that ever breathed,
she was the worst!  I'll _never_ have anything to say to a girl who
snubs her own mother before strangers, and makes fun of her poor old
father, because he has given her a better education than he had himself.
One day he was talking to me about the view, and enjoying himself so
much--he really was a most affable old man--when she happened to come up
and overhear him say something about the `Hopen haspect!'  She shrugged
her shoulders and smiled at me, and I turned a basilisk countenance upon
her and glared, lit-er-ally gl-ared with anger."  Peggy turned her head
with a delighted remembrance of her own severity, then once more
softened into smiles.

"Any news of my _dear_ friend, General Andrews?  You have seen him, of
course?  Did he ask for my address?"

"I am afraid not.  I really can't remember that he did."

Peggy sighed.

"He promised me a tiger skin," she said sorrowfully, "and a brass tray,
and some carved ivories, and a dressing-gown, and an elephant's foot!
The elephant's foot was to be mounted for me, and he gave me the choice
of how it was to be done, and said he would take it to a skilful man.  I
think he must have killed a whole herd of elephants, for he promised a
foot to every girl on board.  He was a most promising creature, and his
intentions were admirable.  I am sure that at the time he meant all he
said, and I can't blame him for his forgetfulness, for my own memory is
at times sadly defective."

She glanced roguishly in Rob's face as she concluded, as if recalling
past mishaps, and he smiled in return, but in a strained, unnatural
fashion which she was quick to notice.  Rob knew none of the people of
whom she had been talking with his brother, and could enter into none of
the jokes which were associated with their names.  It was only natural,
therefore, that he should feel debarred from the conversation.

Peggy drew a long breath of dismay.  What a strange world it was, and
how differently things turned out from what one expected!  To think that
at this first meeting it should be _Rob_ who was left out in the cold,
and not Hector; Rob who stood aside and was silent, Hector who laughed
and talked with the ease of intimate friendship!  It gave her a
miserable feeling of self-reproach that it should be so; and yet how was
she to blame?  The situation had arisen naturally enough.

She gave a little movement of impatience, and her thoughts went off at a
tangent, while in appearance she was still listening attentively to
Hector's reminiscences.

Rosalind and Arthur were whispering together with longer pauses between
the sentences than is usual in the converse of friends.  She was smiling
into his face in her sweetest, most winsome manner, but he did not look
happy.  His face wore the same troubled, fighting expression which his
sister had noticed on the evening of her arrival in London.

Hector's complacent serenity stood out in soothing relief at once from
Arthur's strain and Rob's moody silence, for moody Rob looked indeed,
with his closed lips and heavy brows.  A vivid remembrance flashed into
Peggy's mind of a schoolboy, raising his head from a microscope and
scowling darkly at some unhappy wight who had incurred his displeasure,
and with the remembrance a wild longing to be a school-girl again, in
short frocks and pigtail, a scrap of a school-girl who could swing
herself on to the table to pinch his arm, or mimic each gesture as it
came, pulling her own sleek locks into an imitation of his shaggy crop,
and scowling so darkly that, against his will, he was forced into
laughter.  Many a time in the days gone by had she smoothed the "black
dog" off Rob's back in some such fashion; but now the age of propriety
had dawned, and it was not permitted to take such liberties.

"I'm a lady growed, and I'll act according," said Peggy to herself; "but
dear, dear me, what a handicap it is!  He would enjoy it so much, and so
should I.  Well, at least I can say I want to go upstairs, and then we
can have another nice talk.  I haven't said half or a quarter of what is
in my mind."

She rose from her seat, turning towards Rob to claim his escort; but
before she had time to speak, Hector's arm was thrust forward, and
Hector's voice protested eagerly:

"Let me take you.  I have so much to tell you yet.  Take my arm, and let
me pilot you through the crowd."

Peggy stood hesitating and uncertain between the two tall brothers.

"But--" she began feebly, and then looked at Rob, waiting for him to
finish the sentence.

So far Rob had made no protest, but the moment he met that glance, there
came a sudden flash to the eye, a straightening to the back, which made
a startling transformation in the aspect of the dreamy student.

As he stood thus, he was as tall as Hector himself; the rugged strength
of his face made him an even more imposing figure.

"But Peggy came down with me," he said firmly, "and it is my place to
take her back."

"Nonsense, my dear boy.  You have had your talk.  It's my turn now.
Peggy and I have a great many things to say to each other, and--"

"Plenty of opportunities ahead in which to say them.  To-night will not
be your only meeting.  Take my arm, Peggy," said Rob sternly; and Peggy
gasped and took it, and marched away meek and blushing, conscious to the
very curls on her neck of the amazed disgust with which Hector watched
her retreat.

Outside, in the corridor, her eyes met Rob's, and she made a little
grimace of alarm.

"_Now_ you have done it!  How furious he looked!"

"Serve him right," said Rob lightly.  "And I'll do it again the very
next time he comes interfering between you and me!  There are some
things, Mariquita, that a fellow can _not_ be expected to stand!"

Peggy gave a happy little trill of laughter.  After all, there were some
good points about being grown-up.  At that moment she had no hankering
whatever for the days of pigtails and pinafores!



CHAPTER NINE.

Rob went back to The Larches next day, faithful to a decision expressed
to Peggy at the reception.

"I have seen you now, Peg," he said, "and have gratified my curiosity,
so I shall go back to my work and the country, until such time as you
deign to shed the light of your presence upon us.  It's no use staying
here, for you will be up to your ears in engagements all day long, and
I'm never fit to speak to in London, in any case.  I hate and detest the
place, and feel in an abominable rage the whole time I am here."

"How strange--and I love it!  I made father take me for a drive on the
top of a City omnibus the other day, and it was just thrilling.  I love
the roar and rush and bustle, and the feeling that one is in the very
centre of the world, and that inside those big bare buildings, and among
those jostling crowds, the greatest men in the world are at work, making
literature--making kingdoms--making history!  I look at the different
people as they pass, and wonder who they are, and what they are doing
and feeling and thinking.  It's like a big, wonderful puzzle, which one
will never, never be able to solve, but which keeps one enthralled and
wondering all the same."

Rob's dark face softened tenderly as he looked at the little figure
sitting so erect by his side, with the flush of excitement on her
cheeks, and her young eyes aglow with enthusiasm.

"Or a story-book?" he said gently.  "You used always to compare life to
a story-book, Peggy, and comfort yourself in tribulation by the
reflection that it would all work out right in the third volume.  Well,
_you_ find your most interesting chapters in the City, and I find mine
under the hedges in a country lane.  It's all a matter of taste, but you
have as much right to your opinion as any one else."

"Oh, but I love the country, too," cried Peggy quickly.  "You know I do!
We want to have our home in the country, and I intend to have the most
beautiful garden in the county.  I have never yet seen a garden which
came up to my ideal, and I mean to show how things should be managed,
and to enjoy myself ever so much in planning it out.  All the same, it
must be near town, so that we can run up when we feel inclined.  People
first, and Nature second--them's my sentiments!  I could not be happy
separated from my fellow-creatures."

Rob smiled in a patient, forbearing manner.

"Women are by nature gregarious.  They can't help themselves, poor
things!  Whatever they do, they need an audience.  It's no satisfaction
to them to possess anything, unless they can show it off to a so-called
friend and make her green with envy.  `What is the good of a nice house?
No one sees it!'  That is Rosalind's cry, when by any chance we are
without visitors for a week at a time.  `What is the use of wearing
pretty clothes?  Nobody sees them!'  The idea of enjoying a thing for
itself alone is unattainable to the feminine mind."

"Don't be superior, please!  It's so easy to sneer and be sarcastic at
other people's expense.  I could scorch you up at this moment if I
chose, but I refrain.  Snubbing is a form of wit which has never made
any appeal to my imagination," cried Peggy grandiloquently, and Rob
chuckled to himself with delighted appreciation.

"Bravo, Mariquita!  Score for you!  I hide my diminished head.  Look
here, though, I've got an idea which I present as a peace-offering.  If
you don't succeed in getting a house near town, what do you say to Yew
Hedge, in our neighbourhood?  It's to be sold, and you used to admire it
in the old days, I remember.  It's a quaint, old-fashioned place, with a
drawing-room out of which you could make great things; six acres of
land, and some fine trees.  Altogether you might do worse, and although
it is further in the country than you wish, there are several human
creatures in the neighbourhood who would be delighted to welcome you!"

"Rob, you admirable person!  You have the most delightful ideas!  Yew
Hedge!  I have never been inside the house itself, but I remember
peeping over the hedge and admiring the grounds, and it would be just
scrumptious to be near you all.  I'll speak to father about it at once,
and it will be a comfort to have something in the background, to keep up
our spirits if our search continues to be as unsuccessful as it is at
present."

Another week's house-hunting proved the truth of Peggy's words, for if
it had not been for the thought of Yew Hedge, the wanderers would have
begun to think that there was no resting-place for them within their
native land.  House after house was visited, and house after house
proved unsuitable or, in those rare instances when all requirements were
fulfilled, so far beyond Colonel Saville's purse as to transform
perfection into aggravation, pure and simple.  It seemed as though Fate
were shutting every avenue in order to advocate the claim of Yew Hedge;
but, though Peggy secretly rejoiced over the fact, she could not induce
Arthur to share her feelings.

"It's a charming old place, I grant you," he said, on one of the
precious, too rare occasions when brother and sister found an
opportunity for a confidential chat, "and, personally, I think nothing
of the distance.  When you are once settled in the train, you might as
well have an hour and a half's journey as forty or fifty minutes', but
there are other considerations.  For my own sake I wish the house had
been situated anywhere in the kingdom but just where it is--within half
a mile's distance of the Darcys'."

Peggy looked up quickly, for this was the nearest approach to a
confidence which Arthur had made, and though she did not wish to force
him into speech, she was equally anxious not to miss an opportunity.

"You mean, Arthur, you mean because of--"

Arthur rose from his seat, and paced restlessly up and down the room.

"I mean, Peg, that I want to be with you dear people as much as
possible, and at the same time to see as little as possible of--other
people!  When one is perfectly conscious of a temptation, the wisest
plan is to keep out of its way.  It is no use deliberately playing with
fire, and then praying to be `delivered.'  I've thought out that subject
for myself through some pretty hard times these last few years, and have
come to a final conclusion.  We must do our own share in keeping away
from the danger, and not trifle away the strength we ask for.  This is a
little confidence for yourself alone, dear.  I don't care to worry the
parents with my affairs, or to influence their choice, but I want you to
know the reason if I don't enter into your plans so heartily as you
expect."

"But, Arthur dear, it seemed--it struck me that `other people' seemed to
find it a temptation too!  Surely if you both--"

"Then I must think for both, and be the more careful.  The hardest
temptation of all, Peg, is one that seems just within grasp, but of
which conscience says one should not take advantage.  Think what this
means!  I have a hundred or two a year from the dear old godfather, and
a few more for my salary--in all about as much as a fashionable lady
would spend on clothes and jewellery.  Even with what my father and--
hers might be willing to add, it would mean comparative poverty for
years to come, and some people are not made for poverty, and could not
be happy under such conditions."

"There are things which are worth more than money!"

"To you and me, yes, Peg, a thousand times, but not to every one!  The
bent of a lifetime does not easily alter.  One may think it does under
the stress of strong feeling, but it is a very difficult matter when it
comes to living a restricted life day after day, month after month, and
to giving up the luxuries and pleasures to which one has been
accustomed.  It is better to face a definite sorrow, than life-long
regret and repining."  Arthur's face hardened into a determination which
had in it a sadness which Peggy was quick to understand.  The bitterest
drop in the poor fellow's cup was the consciousness that the girl whom
he loved was neither strong nor unselfish enough to value happiness
before worldly prosperity, and his sister's heart grew hot with
indignation at the thought that any one dared to think herself too good
for Arthur Saville!

"I hope and pray, Arthur, that when the time comes for you to marry,
your wife will realise that she is a most blessedly fortunate woman, and
not harbour any delusions about making a martyr of herself!  You are
perfectly right in wishing to keep out of the way under the
circumstances, and I will do the same.  I never wish to see `other
people' again, or to speak to her, or to have anything whatever to do
with her."

"If you want to please me, you will see as much of her as you can, for
you can help the poor girl more than any one else.  She is fond of you,
and knows that you return her affection."

"I don't!  I won't!  How can I be fond of her when she makes you
unhappy?  If you are not grand enough for her, then neither am I; but I
have yet to learn that the Savilles are unworthy of any alliance which
they may choose to make.  I can't be a hypocrite even to please you,
Arthur, and I'll have nothing more to say to Rosalind Darcy from this
hour!" protested Peggy violently, then suddenly melted into tears, and
laying her head on Arthur's shoulder, proceeded to contradict every word
she had spoken.  "Yes, I will!  I'll do anything you want, but, oh, why
did you do it?  Why did you fall in love at all?  Why couldn't you go on
loving me best, and being happy and comfortable?"

Peggy wept and moaned, and Arthur shook her by the shoulder with all a
man's horror at the sight of tears.

"Hold hard, Peg!  Hold hard!  For pity's sake don't cry!  Your eyes will
be crimson in another moment, and the Rollos will be coming in to tea,
and wondering what on earth is the matter.  So unbecoming, too!  What a
funny little fright you do look, to be sure!" said Arthur shrewdly, and
chuckled in triumph as Peggy stopped short in the middle of a sob, and,
with two tears in the very act of rolling down her nose, rushed to the
nearest mirror and began dabbing at her face with a minute pocket-
handkerchief.

"Horrors!  They do look red.  I'll go up to my room and stand in a
draught, and you must keep the visitors occupied till I come down.
Don't let father get impatient.  I'll come back the moment I am
respectable," she cried, and flew breathlessly from the room, just in
time to avoid Mrs and Miss Rollo, who entered by another door.

The "country cousin" sight-seeing had been carried on with much gusto in
the intervals of house-hunting, and more than once Eunice Rollo had been
included in the party, for, like many Londoners born and bred, she had
neglected to visit places close at hand, and was delighted to have so
pleasant an opportunity of making their acquaintance.

The three girls spent an afternoon in the British Museum, and discussed
Mollusks and Lepidoptera with surreptitious pauses to yawn behind the
glass cases, until the first barriers of formality were broken down by
the fascination of Egyptian mummies, and the thrilling, imaginary
histories which Peggy wove concerning their life on earth.  They went
over the Tower, and enlivened the tedium of a Beefeater's life by
discussing in his presence how best to steal the treasured Koh-i-nor;
and finally, they visited the National Gallery, and on their return
Mellicent and Eunice sat on Peggy's bed, while that young person
represented some of the celebrated portraits for their benefit, with the
aid of such properties as the room afforded.

"Portrait of a young girl, by Sir Peter Lely," announced the clear
voice; and the audience turned their heads, to behold a demure visage
framed by braided hairy a white towel pinned severely across the
shoulders, and a milk-white blossom held in a mittened hand.  The chintz
curtain with its bouquets of flowers made an admirable background for
the youthful figure, and the lamb-like innocence of expression was
touching to behold.  Eunice gripped her companion's arm and pointed
breathlessly to the feet peeping out beneath the short white skirt.  The
flat black shoes with the sandal-like crossings were the exact
counterpart of those in the picture; but how in the name of mystery had
Peggy managed to produce them?  Eunice discussed the question with
Mellicent in the pause during which they were requested to "look the
other way," and had reached the solution of goloshes and ribbon, when
"Gloriana, by Rubens!" was introduced to their notice.

Miss Peggy reclined against a background of cushions, beamingly
conscious of a transformation so complete as to be positively startling
to behold.  A trio of sponges pinned round the head gave the effect of
an elaborate coiffure, above which was perched a scarlet turban
decorated by half-a-dozen brooches, holding in position as many
feathers; a blue dressing-gown opened over an underskirt composed of an
eiderdown quilt, which gave an appropriately portly air to the figure,
and by some mysterious process a double chin had been produced for the
occasion!  Gasps of delight from the bed greeted this masterpiece; but
the third impersonation was most successful of all, when the audience
shrieked aloud to behold Lady Macbeth glaring upon them from a yard's
distance, enveloped in bath sheets, and wearing such an expression of
horror on her face as chilled the blood to behold!

"Not all the spices of Arabia can sweeten this little hand!" hissed
Peggy, shaking her little paw in the air, while Mellicent screamed with
delight and pounded the ground with her heels, and Eunice lay prone
against the bedpost in a silent paroxysm of laughter.  To see Eunice
Rollo laugh was a delightful experience, and one which was worth some
trouble to enjoy.  Not a sound issued from her lips, not an exclamation
marked her enjoyment; like a helpless image she sat, and shook, and
trembled, and quivered from head to foot, while her face grew pink, and
the tears rose in her eyes, and streamed unheeded down her cheeks.  The
sight of her, dumb, shaking, weeping--roused the other girls to
uncontrollable mirth, and the louder they laughed, the more did Eunice
weep; the more violently did they gesticulate and prance about the room,
the closer did she hug her bedpost, the more motionless she appeared.

To be forced into laughter, real, honest, uncontrollable laughter, as
opposed to the forced guffaw of society, seemed a new experience to this
only child of busy and pre-occupied parents; and it needed only Arthur's
assurance that he had never seen the girl so bright and animated to put
the final touch to Peggy's growing liking.

On the present occasion Eunice and her mother had come to tea at the
hotel, and as Rosalind and Hector were also expected within the next
half-hour, it was quite necessary that Peggy should get her eyes in
order without delay.  She was not in a mood to give a cordial welcome to
the destroyer of her brother's happiness, and, despite her efforts to
the contrary, there was a chill in her manner which Rosalind was quick
to note.  It worried her, as it had worried her in the old girlish days
when Peggy Saville had refused to pay the homage which she expected from
her companions, and now, as then, she put forth all her fascinations in
order to subdue the unruly spirit.  The princess in the fairy-tale
seemed again the only creature to whom to compare her as she sat
enthroned on the sofa, her lovely face alight with smiles and dimples.
Eunice Rollo looked like a little grey mouse beside her, the very colour
seeming to be absorbed from her face by the brilliancy of the contrast,
while bonnie Mellicent appeared of a sudden awkward and blousy.

"Rosalind makes every one else look a fright, the moment she comes into
a room.  I shudder to think of the guy I must appear.  Poor dear Arthur!
I don't wonder at his devotion.  She is so lovely that she fascinates
one in spite of oneself!" sighed Peggy, trying to harden herself against
the glances of the sweet caressing eyes, and feeling her heart softening
with every moment that passed.

All her thoughts were centred on Rosalind and Arthur, and she presided
over the tea-tray with a sublime absence of mind which afforded Hector
Darcy much amusement.  His own cup was filled last of all, and seating
himself beside her he gravely extracted from it six separate lumps of
sugar, which he ranged in a neat little row on a plate.

"Seeing that you asked me twice over if I took sugar, and on hearing
that I did not, immediately ladled in the largest pieces you could find,
I conclude that there is something weighing on your mind," he said
markedly.  "What is it?  Nothing unpleasant, I hope--nothing serious?"

"A bad habit of thinking of several things at the same time, coupled
with the fatigues of a London season.  That is the explanation!" sighed
Peggy, patting the discarded lumps into a pulp with her spoon, and
moulding them into pyramid shape with as earnest an air as if her life
depended on the operation.  "We have been terribly energetic--flying
about all day long and living in a perfect whirl of excitement."

"And yet I never meet you.  I look out for you every day, but in vain.
We never seem to go to the same places."

"Ah, you are among the rank and fashion, you see, and we are country
cousins doing the sights.  You visit the real people, and we stare at
the images at Madame Tussaud's.  You attend private views, and we go in
with the rabble.  You go to luncheon parties at The Star and Garter, and
we have buns and tea in an ABC shop, and pay an extra penny for cream.
We move in different circles, Major Darcy," cried Peggy, with a toss of
the head which contradicted the humility of her words.  "It is not to be
expected that we should meet.  To-morrow morning we are going to the
Zoo."

The big officer looked down at her with admiring eyes, paused just long
enough to give added effect to his words, and then said deliberately:

"May I go with you?"

"Certainly not!" replied Peggy promptly; and when Hector demanded her
reason, "You would be too great a strain upon us," she explained.  "We
should have to behave properly if you were there, and that would spoil
the fun.  You would be shocked at our behaviour, or if you were not
shocked, you would be bored, and that would be even more disastrous."

"Try me and see.  There is no fear of my being bored, and I promise
faithfully to be so far from shocked that I will do every single thing
that you do yourself."

"Go round with the crowd and see the animals feed?"

"Certainly, if you wish it."

"Give biscuits to the elephants?"

"With pleasure!  I'd do anything for an elephant.  Finest beast you can
find."

"And nuts to the monkeys?"

"Er--is that a necessary condition?  I really cannot face the monkey-
house in this weather."

"Walk round the parrot-house and examine every cage, and offer your
finger to be bitten?"

"I would wait outside until you came back."

"That's shirking.  If I let you off the monkeys, I should insist upon
the parrots; but the most important of all is the dromedary.  Will you
have a penny ride with us round the grounds on the back of a dromedary?"

"My dear Peggy!  Anything in reason to enjoy the pleasure of your
society, but really--"

"Nobody shall come with us to the Zoo who is too proud to ride on the
dromedary," said Peggy firmly.  "I told you you would be shocked, and
you see I was right; but Mellicent and I have no pride at all where
animals are concerned, and we intend to do every possible thing that can
be done.  We will have to defer our next meeting for another occasion,
Major Darcy."

"Not longer than Fwiday, I hope, Peggy," interrupted Rosalind sweetly.
"I want you to keep Fwiday afternoon disengaged, and come with us to
Lady B's garden-party, which will be one of the things of the season.
The Pwince and Pwincess will be there, and everybody who is in town, and
there is to be a pastowal play beneath the trees, so that altogether it
will be worth seeing.  You will come, won't you, Peggy?  You really must
pwomise to come."

"The Prince and Princess!  Oh, how lovely!  I'm simply dying to see the
Princess!  Only yesterday I said that I could not bear to go away
without seeing her.  If she were at a garden-party, we could get quite
near, and see her face, and her clothes, and hear her speak.  How
_simply_ lovely!" ejaculated Mellicent rapturously.  "Oh, we must go, we
must manage it!  We have no engagement for Friday, Peggy, have we?
Nothing that could not be put off?"

The idea that she herself might not have been included in Rosalind's
invitation had never occurred to Mellicent's innocent mind.  Since her
arrival in town she had been treated as an honoured guest, and if on any
occasion it had been impossible for both girls to enjoy a pleasure, it
had been Peggy who stayed at home and gave place to her friend.
Mellicent had wondered more than once when Rosalind Darcy intended to do
her share towards the entertainment of her vicar's daughter, and now was
aglow with delight on receiving the invitation which of all others she
had most desired.  She was too much excited to notice Rosalind's
discomfited surprise, but awakening came all too soon.

"Dear Mellicent, I am sowwy, but I cannot take more than one fwiend,"
she murmured caressingly.  "Evewybody is asking for invitations, and it
would not do to encroach too far on Lady B's hospitality.  Another time,
when Peggy is not going, I should be delighted to take you with me--"

"But, Rosalind, I can't go on Friday.  I am dreadfully disappointed, for
it is just the sort of thing I should love, and if I had only an
ordinary engagement I would put it off, but it is not.  An old school-
friend of mother's is coming up from the country especially to see us,
and we could not possibly put her off, as we have already had no end of
difficulty to fix a day.  Letters and telegrams have been flying to and
fro, and if we altered the date there is no saying when we should meet.
I am very, very sorry, but it is impossible to go with you."

"But surely you could be spared for the afternoon!  You would see your
fwiend in the morning, and at dinner--"

"She won't arrive until lunch-time, and must leave again at six o'clock.
She will travel four hours in the train just to spend the afternoon
with us, so I could not possibly go out; but there is no reason why
Mellicent should stay in too.  She could go instead of me."

Peggy would not have ventured to make such a suggestion had not
Rosalind's own protestations opened the way, but as it was she felt no
diffidence in making it, and the change from despair to rapture on her
friend's expressive face went far to console her for her own
disappointment.  But if Mellicent's expression was significant,
Rosalind's was even more so.  Her lips tightened, the colour deepened in
her cheeks, and her eyes sent forth an unmistakable gleam of vexation.
She hated being forced into an unpleasant position, but there was one
thing which she would hate even more--to be obliged to take a dowdily
dressed, countrified-looking visitor to one of the social events of the
season, and at all risks this must be avoided.  Mellicent would probably
be offended, Peggy furious, Arthur pained and disappointed--she knew it
beforehand, and lamented the knowledge; but, as Arthur had said, the
bent of a lifetime is too strong to be overcome in a moment.  Rosalind
would have been ready to protest that she cared a hundred times more for
her friends' feelings than for her own dignity, but when it came to the
test she sacrificed them without hesitation in the interest of selfish
pride.

"I am sowwy, but if you cannot go, Peggy, I think we had better leave it
alone for the pwesent.  Some day we may all be able to arrange to go
together, but Lady B's will be a gweat cwush, and I shall meet many
fwiends, and be so much engrossed.  Mellicent would not enjoy herself
without you.  She would know nobody."

There was a dead silence.  Hector stared at his shoes; Peggy gave a
short, _staccato_ cough; and Arthur looked swiftly across the room, to
see how Mellicent bore herself beneath this unmerited snub.  She was
seated on the sofa beside Eunice Rollo, slightly in advance of himself,
so that only a crimson cheek _was_ visible, and a neck reddened to the
roots of the hair, but Arthur saw something else, which touched him even
more than his old friend's distress--a little grey-gloved hand which
shot out from its owner's side and gripped the broad waist; a little
hand that stroked, and patted, and pressed close in sympathetic embrace.
Arthur's lips twitched beneath his moustache, but he said no word; and
presently Rosalind rose and took her departure, feeling the atmosphere
too charged with electricity to be agreeable.

Contrary to his usual custom, Arthur did not accompany her downstairs,
so that he returned from the door in time to hear the explosion of
indignation which followed her departure.  Mellicent stamped up and down
the floor, breathless and tearful; Eunice stared at the floor; and Peggy
sat erect as a poker, with a bright spots of colour on either cheek, and
lips screwed into a tight little button of scorn.

"Don't speak to me!" she was saying.  "Don't ask my opinion.  I am
bereft of speech.  Never, in all my existence, have I ever beheld such
an exhibition of snobbish disloyalty--"

"Mellicent, my mother has a ticket," put in Eunice.  "You can go with
her and take my place.  I have seen the Princess scores of times.  Oh,
please don't cry, it isn't worth it, indeed it isn't!"

"I'd scorn to cry.  I wouldn't condescend to shed a tear for the nasty
horrid thing!" cried Mellicent, mopping with her handkerchief at the
continuous stream which rolled down her cheeks.  "It is she who should
cry, not I.  If I _am_ poor and shabby, I know how to behave.  I'm a
lady, and Rosalind Darcy is a c-cad.  She _is_, and I don't care who
hears me say it!  I've known her all my life, and she's ashamed to be
seen with me.  I'll go home to-morrow, I will!  I'll stay at home where
people love me, and don't choose their friends for the cl-clothes they
wear!"

Mellicent burst into fresh tears, and Peggy looked anxiously into
Arthur's face.  It was drawn and fixed, and his lips were set, as if in
endurance of actual physical pain.



CHAPTER TEN.

Four days before Peggy left town she had an amusing encounter with one
of her old friends.  The little party had divided, and while Mrs
Saville and Mellicent shopped in the West End, the colonel and his
daughter drove into the City to visit a collection of the pictures of
one of the old masters.  They were sauntering through the second room
when Peggy's attention was attracted by a group standing at a few yards'
distance--a lady, a gentleman, and two little boys with Eton collars and
round-about jackets--a family group for a ducat, yet surely, surely
there was something familiar in the figure and bearing of the supposed
mother!  She was tall and dignified, her clothes were quite miraculously
tidy, and the smooth, fair hair was plaited in Puritan fashion round the
head.

"Can it--can it be?" queried Peggy to herself; then, catching sight of a
long grave face, "It _is_!" she cried with a flash of joy, and walking
forward, planted herself deliberately in the stranger's path.  What she
anticipated came precisely to pass, for the lady stepped back from her
position, collided violently with herself, and began hurriedly to
apologise.

"I beg your pardon!  I did not see--I hope I have not hurt you."  So far
in fluent unconsciousness; then suddenly she stopped short, gasped,
hesitated, stared hard at the face before her, and ejaculated a
breathless, "_Peggy--Saville_!"

"Esther Asplin!  I knew it was you!  I knew no one else in the world
could possess that back hair!  How extraordinary to come across you
here!  It's a marvel that Mellicent was not with me, but we were both
looking forward to seeing you at the vicarage at the end of the week!"

"I am on my way home now.  I go down by the six o'clock train, and took
the opportunity of bringing the boys into town to see some of the
sights.  They are such dears, Peggy.  The one with the red hair is a
genius.  You should see his Latin prose!  The fat one is a lovable
little soul, but terribly stupid and lazy; a great trial to my patience.
I suppose Mellicent has told you all about my work, and how happy I am?
The parents are such charming, cultivated people.  The mother is a
sister of Professor Reid, the gentleman who is with us now."  She rolled
her eyes meaningly towards the cadaverous-looking man who had fled to
the end of the room at Peggy's approach.  "He was one of our lecturers
at Girton, and recommended me to his sister when I left.  Such an honour
for me, for he is one of the finest men in the `Varsity'--So wonderfully
learned and clever!"

"He _looks_ it," remarked Miss Peggy, regarding the lanky, stooping
figure with a crinkle of disdain in her saucy little nose.  "Just
exactly my idea of a learned professor.  Does he ever brush his coat?"

Esther flushed, and bridled with displeasure.

"I never inquired," she returned coldly.  "In conversation with
Professor Reid one has something better to do than discuss coats.  He
was kind enough to offer to meet us in town, and to take the boys home
after I leave to-night, and it is a privilege to go about with him.
I'll introduce you to him if you like, and--"

"You'd better not.  I am sure he wouldn't like it.  Let me introduce you
to father instead.  He is wondering what new friend I have discovered,
and will be so much interested when he knows who it is."

Colonel Saville came forward in response to his daughter's summons, and
greeted her friend with much cordiality, while Peggy was agreeably
surprised to note the easy self-possession with which Esther sustained
her part in the conversation.  Contact with the world had rubbed away
the rusticity of manner which still characterised Mellicent, and though
by no possibility could Esther be called pretty, there was an undeniable
attractiveness about the tall, neat figure and intellectual face.  Peggy
knew that her father was agreeably impressed, for the colonel had a
tell-tale expression, and could by no possibility manage to hide his
feelings.  If he were bored, dreariness feebly described his appearance;
if he were annoyed, his eyes sent out little sparks of fire, and every
hair in his moustache bristled on its own account; if he were sad, he
lost in five minutes the last remnant of youth, and appeared a wan old
man; while if he were pleased, he might have passed as Arthur's brother,
so alert and beaming was his demeanour.  On the present occasion he was
all smiles and bows, and joked elaborately with the little pupils, who
were brought up and introduced, when, to Peggy's amusement, the genius
preserved a stolid demeanour, while the fat, little dunce displayed an
agreeable animation.

"An exceedingly sensible, pleasant young woman," was the colonel's
verdict as he left the room; and Peggy peered round over her shoulder,
and beheld the sensible young woman rearranging the fat boy's tie while
the professor cautiously retraced his steps towards her.

A few days later Peggy scrambled her possessions together to prepare for
her visit to the vicarage.  Carter, Mrs Saville's maid, had departed to
pay a visit to her relatives in the country, and in her absence her
young mistress complacently folded her dressing-gown on top of muslin
dresses, pressed a jewel-box over a chiffon bodice, and remarked, with a
sigh of satisfaction, that it was a blessing to be able to wait on
oneself, and to be beholden to no outsider; after which she straight-way
left her keys on the dressing-table, and drove off to the station in
blissful unconsciousness.  Mellicent was divided between grief at
leaving dear, beautiful, exciting London and anticipation of the
reflected glory with which she would shine at home as the restorer of
Peggy to the household; and in the vicarage itself all was excitement
and expectation, the old cook concocting every dainty she could think of
in a kitchen heated up to furnace-heat; Mr Asplin mowing the lawn in
hot haste, because the daisies _would_ spring up in impertinent fashion
in the hot dry weather; Mrs Asplin flying from one room to another,
patting cushions into shape, and artfully placing little tables over
worn spots on the carpet; and Miss Esther laying out clean towels, and
flicking infinitesimal grains of dust from the chairs and tables.  The
sight of disorder was a positive pain to Esther's orderly eyes.  It was
reported of her that in the midst of a Latin examination she had begged
to have a blind put straight, since its crooked condition distracted her
mind; and therefore it may be surmised that on the present occasion
Robert Darcy met with no very cordial reception, when he was discovered
stamping about the newly swept rooms in a pair of dusty shoes,
scattering fragments of leaves and stubble behind him.

"Bless the child, it will seem all the more home-like to her if it's not
all spick and span!  Don't pick them up, Esther.  I like to see them.
It was good of you to come over, Rob, for I'm not myself at all without
a boy in the house, and it does me good to see your dear dirty boots,"
cried Mrs Asplin, and blinked her eyes, trying hard to keep down the
tears which _would_ rise at the thought of Max in his far-off home, and
all the train of mischievous, happy-hearted lads who had been under her
care, and who were now fighting the world for themselves.  Every morning
as she woke, and felt the tired pressure at her head, she felt a pang of
relief at the remembrance that there was no longer the old necessity to
be up and doing.  Every evening as she rested on the old sofa she
remarked afresh to her husband how sweet it was to be alone, and to have
the rest and peace of a quiet house; but between the two ends of the day
there came a dozen other moments, when she longed for the cheery bustle,
the clamour of youthful voices, the presence of the merry young band.
Such a moment came to her now, and the tears were already glistening in
the sweet grey eyes when the sound of wheels crunched up the drive, the
vicar dashed into the house to shed his alpaca coat, and his wife and
daughter flew excitedly into the garden.  The carriage stopped, a blue-
robed damsel leapt out of either door, and for the next two minutes four
female figures were so inextricably mixed together that it would have
been difficult to an onlooker to say which was which, or to apportion
the waving arms and bobbing heads to their proper owners.  The vicar
stood in the background, looking on with a comical gleam of amusement on
his long face, while Rob shrugged his shoulders and looked bored and
superior, as men are fond of doing when women enjoy themselves in a way
which they themselves cannot understand.  Presently, however, the
kaleidoscope-like mass dissolved into its component parts, and a young
lady advanced towards the vicar with a pretty flushed face beneath a
French hat, and two little hands stretched out in greeting.  Mr Asplin
looked at her critically.  _Was_ it Peggy?  For a moment memory was
baffled by the sight of the elegant young lady, but a second glance
revealed the well-known features--the arched brows and kitten-like chin.
For the rest, the hazel eyes were as clear and loving as ever, and the
old mischievous gleam shone through the tears.

"Is it Mariquita?" he cried, and Peggy stood on tiptoe to kiss his
cheek, and hung on to the lapels of his coat, saying tremulously:

"No, it's Peggy!  I never was Mariquita, you know, unless I was going to
be scolded in the study; and you couldn't possibly scold me the first
day.  Are you half as pleased to see me as I am to be back again?"

"God bless you, child!" he said softly, and laid a tender hand on her
cheek.  The bud had blossomed into a flower; the little school-girl whom
he had loved so well had grown into a woman, and her early grace and
charm were sweet in the old man's sight.  He thanked God for them, as he
thanked Him for all beautiful things--the sunshine which gave colour to
the flowers, the green restfulness of the land, the song of the birds in
the trees.  "You are very welcome, dear.  It does me good to see you
among us once again."

"And looking so well.  You are quite blooming, Peggy; and so smart as
she is too!  Deary, deary me, is that what they call the fashion?" cried
Mrs Asplin, holding the girl in outstretched arms, and turning her
slowly round and round, to take in the details of her attire.  "You look
so spruce, child, that I hardly knew you; but there, it won't be long, I
expect, before the true Peggy peeps out.  Come in, darling.  There's a
new rug in the hail; don't trip over it!  We have been saying we needed
it for five years back, but it was bought only last week, to smarten the
house for your coming.  Those are Esther's certificates in the corner,
and you must see the new cretonne in the drawing-room.  All the chairs
are recovered.  We finished them only last week."

"Tut, tut!" cried Peggy, and shook her head in dismay at such reckless
extravagance.  She had not had a chance of exchanging any further
greeting with Rob than a smiling nod, while she and Esther cast curious
glances at one another across the room, renewing the impressions of
their first meeting.  Peggy thought it one of the prettiest sights in
the world to see Mrs Asplin hang on to the vicar's arm and drag him
with her about the house, forgetful of everything but her instinctive
desire to be near him in her rejoicing; the prettiest thing in the world
to see the tenderness in his eyes.  She looked at them mischievously,
and then of a sudden her own eyes began to blink, for all those four
years of absence had left their mark on the dear faces; they had changed
as well as herself; but with them it was not the blossoming of the bud
into the flower, it was rather the losing of those last leaves which had
lingered from life's summer.  The vicar's shoulders were more bowed; the
lines on his face more deeply graven; his wife's hair had grown silvery
about the temples, and the pathetic, tired look in the grey eyes must
surely be permanent nowadays, since not even the excitement of meeting
could chase it away.  She was even sweeter-looking than of old, but had
she always been so thin, so transparently delicate in colour?  Do what
she would, Peggy could not keep back her tears, and Mrs Asplin caught
sight of them, and produced her own handkerchief in instant response.

"Ah, Peg, I know what you are thinking.  The old home is not like itself
without the boys.  I feel it too, dear, I feel it too.  Not a single boy
would we have had in the place, if Rob had not taken pity on us, bless
him!  It seems so strange after having had so many of them all these
years."

"It seems very quiet and peaceful, if you ask me! and if I'm _not_ a
boy, I've been away, and I do think I deserve a little attention!" cried
Mellicent, aggrieved.  "If it had been Max who had come home, you
wouldn't all be crying and moaning for the girls.  You would forget
there were such things in the world.  It's not our fault that we happen
to be girls, and we have our feelings all the same.  No one speaks to
me!  No one says they are pleased to see me!  No one makes the slightest
fuss because I am home!"

"Darling!" cried her mother, and rushed to take her in her arms.  "My
precious baby, I'm just delighted to have you back; but you know how it
is--the thought of old times made me sad for the moment.  We seemed such
a small party without the boys."

Mellicent grimaced and hitched her shoulders in petulant fashion.  Then
she looked at Peggy, and a flash of amusement passed from eye to eye.

"Let's have tea!" she said shortly.  "It's good for the spirits, and we
are both hungry.  It's to be in the schoolroom, I suppose, mother, as we
asked.  Peggy died to have tea there again, and was so afraid that it
would be laid out in style in the drawing-room that she made me ask you
to have it exactly the same as in the old times.  I told her it was no
use, that you would have out all the best things, whatever we said."

"But you didn't, Mrs Asplin, did you?  There are halfpenny buns, aren't
there, and scones, and damson jam, and the old thick cups and saucers?"

"Bless me, no, child!  The very best china; cakes from Buzzard's, with
icing on the top, strawberries and cream, and every luxury you can
imagine.  The schoolroom, yes; but you don't suppose I'd feed my
prodigal on halfpenny buns!  Come and see all the good things that are
waiting;" and Mrs Asplin led the way towards the schoolroom, with the
complacent air of a housekeeper who has reason to be satisfied with her
preparations, while the two girls followed with elbows in suspiciously
close proximity.  Another moment and the door was thrown open, when Mrs
Asplin immediately gave a shriek of surprise, and fell prone against the
wall.  There stood the long table, set out with flowers and silver, and,
in the centre seat, sat a handsome frock-coated figure, with every dish
and plate of edibles massed around him in a solid circle of temptation.
The silver cake-basket was in the centre, plates of scones, macaroons,
and biscuits bordered each side; while the interstices were filled in
with bowls containing jam and fruit.  On his own plate there were piled
at one and the same moment, a meringue, a slice of plum cake, two
biscuits, and a jam tart, and, in default of tea, he had filled his cup
from the cream jug, and was even at this moment wiping the tell-tale
drops from his moustache.

"That blessed boy!" cried Mrs Asplin, clasping her hands in delight.
"There never was any one like him.  He guessed how I should feel--he
always _did_ guess!  I might have known that he would come.  But how?
When?  Where?  He was not in the carriage with the girls."

"Got out at the gate, mater, and came in at the window.  Wanted to get a
start of you all at tea," said Arthur, coming forward, serviette in
hand, to receive the kiss and hug of welcome which he was never too old
to enjoy.  He had divined that Peggy's advent would make the gap in the
household even more felt than usual, and his kindly instinct had been to
fill that gap as much as possible; but no other reason would he
acknowledge for his presence than the necessity of escorting two
frivolous young women who could not be trusted to take a journey on
their own account, and his hosts were too full of delight at his
appearance to dispute the point.

"Second fiddle!" sighed Peggy with a shrug.  "It's meself that's second
fiddle this moment, when 'twas the whole orchestra I expected to be.
Take me away, somebody, before I break down altogether, and show me some
of the old haunts until tea is ready."

"Peggy, don't be absurd!"  Esther said solemnly; but Peggy marched
determinedly out of the room, and, with the exception of Mr and Mrs
Asplin and Arthur, every one followed and stood looking on while she
pushed open the swing door of the cloak-room, and poked her little head
round the corner.

"Where's my peg?" she cried.  "If I find any other wretched creature's
clothes hanging on my peg, I'll--" then she stopped suddenly, darted
forward with a squeal of delight, and closed the door behind her.  She
was not hidden more than a minute, but in effect it seemed to have been
a long, long time, for when the door reopened, the French hat had
disappeared, and it was the real old Peggy-Pickle who smiled and nodded
and peaked her brows beneath the scarlet cap.

"The Tam o' Shanter!  Rob has brought it back after all these years.  He
kept it until you could wear it again.  Goodness, how touching!  I never
thought _you_ would turn sentimental, Rob!" cried Mellicent the
tactless, and the next moment devoutly wished she had held her peace, as
Rob scowled, Esther pinched her arm, and Peggy trod on her toe with
automatic promptness.  She turned on her heel and strode back to the
dining-room, while Peggy flicked the cap off her head, trying hard to
look unconscious, and to continue her investigations as if nothing
embarrassing had occurred.

"There's the old stain on the floor where I spilt the ink, and the
little marks all the way upstairs where the corners of my box took off
the paint.  Dear, dear, how home-like they look!  I must see cook after
tea, and Diddums, my sweet little kitten.  How is the darling?  As
pretty and fluffy and playful as ever?"

"Peggy dear, do _not_ be silly!"

"Esther dear, I cannot help it!  I'm too happy to be sensible.  Let me
be silly for just one day.  _What_, is that Diddums?  That ugly, lanky,
old cat?  You've aged terribly, Diddums, since I saw you last.  Ah me,
ah me, the years tell on us all!  Tell me, dear--be faithful!--are you
as much shocked at the change in _me_?"

Peggy looked up archly, and met Rob's deep, earnest gaze.  She put down
the cat, rose suddenly, and thrust her hand through Esther's arm.  Her
cheeks were very pink, her eyes astonishingly bright.  Esther looked at
her critically, and pursed up her lips in disapproving fashion.

Certainly Peggy had grown into a very pretty girl, but it was a thousand
pities that she had not yet outgrown the eccentricities of her youth.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

When Peggy had been staying a week at the vicarage, her parents came
down from town on a two days' visit, especially arranged to give them an
opportunity of looking over Yew Hedge.  Colonel Saville's scant supply
of patience was fast giving out beneath the strain of disappointment,
and he declared his intention of buying the first habitable house he
saw, while his wife and daughter were reluctantly forced to the
conclusion that it was impossible to procure an ancestral estate at the
price of a suburban villa.  Yew Hedge, therefore, appeared the refuge of
the destitute, and a fly being hired from the village inn, and Mrs
Asplin invited to take the fourth seat, the little party drove off to
inspect the house in mingled hope and fear.

The thick hedge which gave the name to the house skirted the country
road for some hundreds of yards, while a carriage drive of commonplace
propriety led up to a square stone house, which could by no possibility
have been termed either beautiful or picturesque.  Mrs Saville's face
fell into an expression of martyr-like despair, and the colonel looked
fierce and frowning; but, like many good things, and people also, Yew
Hedge showed its worst points on the surface, and modestly hid its
Virtues out of sight.  There was a large flower and vegetable garden
behind the house, the entrance hall was roomy with an old-fashioned
fireplace in the corner, the drawing-room contained an abundance of
those nooks and corners beloved of modern decorators, and Peggy fairly
capered about with exultation when she entered the dining-room and
beheld panelled oak walls and a frescoed ceiling.

"Father, it's settled!  We take this house on the spot.  These walls
decide it.  Think how inspiring it will be to live our lives against a
background of carved oak!" she cried in a rapture, and the colonel
tugged at his moustache with a smile of complacent satisfaction.

"Looks about right, Peg, doesn't it?  That Indian furniture would look
well in here, and the old delf.  We'll put all the delf here, I fancy,
and--"

"And have blue walls in the drawing-room--blue paper and white wood, and
a touch of yellow in the draperies.  I saw some brocade at Liberty's
which would be the very thing!" chimed in his wife, while Mrs Asplin
gasped and looked askance at the extraordinary trio who began to discuss
the furnishings of a house before they had even ascended the staircase.
She coughed in a deprecatory manner, and said:

"The reception rooms are certainly fine--they have always been
considered the strong point of the house, but the bedroom accommodation
is not nearly so good.  There are fewer rooms than you would expect, and
they are mostly small.  I'm afraid you will be disappointed when you see
them."

"If there are three or four decent rooms, that is all we need.  I want
my home for myself, and not for a crowd of visitors.  One spare room, or
two at most, is all I would have furnished if there were a dozen empty.
Give me retirement and a quiet home life!" cried the colonel, whereat
his wife and daughter exchanged glances of amusement, for if ever there
lived a man who adored his fellow-creatures, and delighted in crowding
his house from floor to ceiling with unexpected guests, that man was
Colonel Saville, and would be until his death.

Mrs Asplin understood the meaning of that glance, and giving up the
colonel as a hopeless case, addressed herself instead to his wife.

"And I am afraid the pantry is poor, and the scullery also.  Mrs Selby
used to complain of them and of the lack of conveniences.  There are no
cupboards, and the--"

It was of no use.  Mrs Saville was as intractable as her husband, and
refused to listen to any warning.

"Dear Mrs Asplin," she said sweetly, "I don't know anything about
cupboards.  We never worried about these things in India; the servants
managed somehow, and I presume they can manage here.  The entertaining
rooms are large enough to take in our furniture, and Peggy likes them.
Those are the great points which we have to consider.  If there are
enough bedrooms to take us in, I think we shall be satisfied."

This Saville trio was the most impracticable party of house-hunters whom
the vicar's wife had ever known, and she wondered no longer at the
difficulty they had experienced in finding a house to their taste, when
she noted the spirit in which they surveyed the present premises.  A
convenience was not a convenience at all if it interfered with a fad or
fancy, and a serious drawback was hailed with delight if it appeared in
quaint or unexpected fashion.  As a matter of fact, the purchase of the
house had been a foregone conclusion, since the moment when Peggy had
beheld the oak walls of the dining-room, and within twenty-four hours
from that moment it was a concluded fact.

Ah, then and there was hurrying to and fro, and endless journeys up to
town, and interviews with obstinate decorators, who would insist on
obtruding their own ideas, and battles waged with British workmen, who
could not understand why one shade of a colour was not as good as
another, or wherein lay the deadly necessity that they should match.
Peggy put a penny in the slot and weighed herself on the machine at the
station every second or third day, to verify her statement that she was
wasting to a shadow beneath the nervous strain.  She was left at the
vicarage in order to superintend the workmen, while Colonel and Mrs
Saville stayed in town to interview furniture dealers and upholsterers;
and every morning she walked over to Yew Hedge and made a procession
round the rooms, to note what progress had been made since the day
before.  Half-a-dozen men were at work, or, to be strictly accurate,
were _engaged_ to work, at the house; but beyond the fact that it grew
steadily dirtier and dirtier, and that the splashes of whitewash and
shavings of paper stretched further and further down the drive, it was
difficult to see what progress was being made.

Then Peggy made a desperate resolve, begged a bundle of sandwiches from
the old cook, packed it with sundry other properties in a basket, and
announced her intention of spending the day at Yew Hedge, and keeping
the men up to their work by the influence of her presence.  Mrs Asplin
laughed at the idea of their being awed by anything so small and dainty,
but small as she was Miss Peggy had contrived to instil a very wholesome
awe of herself among the workmen.  She never expressed open disapproval,
and was invariably courteous in manner, but there was a sting in her
stately speeches which made them wince, though they would have found it
difficult to explain the reason of their discomfiture.  On the present
occasion the usual group of idlers was discovered lazing in the hall
when the little white figure appeared suddenly among them.  They flushed
and slouched away, but the young lady was all smiles and amiability.

"Good-morning!" she cried.  "I have brought my tools with me to-day, for
I am going to stay and garden.  If you can spare the time, I shall be
much obliged if you will boil some water for me later on, but it will do
when you make your own tea.  Don't let me interrupt your work!  I shall
be in the garden, if you want to consult me at any time, so we shall all
be busy together!"

The abashed faces stared at her in a solid wall of discomfiture, and
Peggy retreated hastily, and paused behind a harberry fence to have her
laugh out, before repairing to the shed where the gardening tools were
stored.  Then she unrolled an apron, tied it over her skirt, rolled up
her sleeves to protect the starched little cuffs, took a rake in one
hand and a hoe in the other, and surveyed the prospect.  With ambition
untempered by ignorance, she had openly avowed her intention of
possessing the finest flowers in the county, and giving an object-lesson
in gardening to ignorant professors of the art, so that it was more than
time to begin preparation.

"The finest garden in the county!"  Even allowing for the prejudices of
possession, it was impossible to bestow such a title upon Yew Hedge in
its present unkempt condition.  The house had been unlet for two years,
during which time the grass had grown coarse and rank, wallflowers and
forget-me-nots were dying a lingering death in the borders, and nothing
was coming on to take their place.  It was not the first time that Peggy
had given her mind to this subject, but so far she had not succeeded in
finding a solution of the difficulty, nor had the suggestion of the
village gardener met with her approval.

"It's bedding-out as you want," he had explained.  "You must bed out.
That's the tastiest thing for those 'ere round beds, and the tidiest
too.  They last well on into the autumn, if it comes in no sharp frosts.
There's nothing like them for lasting!"

"Like _what_?  Do you mean geraniums?"

"Ay, geraniums for sure, and calcies, and lobelias, and a nice little
hedge of pyrethrum.  Can't do better than that, can yer?  Geraniums in
the centre,"--he drew a circle on the ground with the end of his stick,
and prodded little holes here and there to illustrate his plan.  "A nice
patch of red, then comes yellar, then the blue, then the green.  In
circles or in rows, according as you please."

"I seem to have seen it somewhere!  I have certainly seen it," mused
Peggy solemnly, so solemnly, that the poor man took her words in good
faith, and looked at her with wondering pity.

"I should say you 'ad!  You couldn't travel far without seein' of 'em in
the summer time.  There's nuthin' else to see in a manner of speaking,
for they all 'as 'em.  'Igh and low, gentle and simple."

"Then I won't!" quoth Peggy unexpectedly.  "Henceforth, Bevan, when
sightseers come to the neighbourhood, send them up to Yew Hedge to
inspect the one garden in England which does not go in for bedding-out!
If I want fireworks, I'll have them in gunpowder on the fifth of
November, but not in flowers if I know it!  It's an insult to Nature to
rule a garden in lines and transform a bed into a mathematical figure!"

The old gardener looked at her more in sorrow than in anger, and shook
his head dejectedly as he went back to his work.  He had the gravest
doubts about the sanity of a young lady who objected to "bedding-out;"
but if Peggy gained no approval from him for her new-fangled notions,
she reaped her reward in Rob's unaffected delight, when the conversation
was detailed for his benefit.

"Bravo, Mariquita!" he cried.  "I recognise in you the instinct of the
true gardener--a rare thing, let me tell you, to find in a woman.  Women
like show and colour, a big effect, rather than interesting detail, but
I'm thankful to find you are an exception.  Come over to-morrow and see
_my_ garden!  I keep a corner for myself at the end of the shrubbery,
and forbid any of the men to touch it, and I flatter myself I have some
treasures you won't find in any other garden in England.  I brought them
home from my travels, and have coaxed them to grow by looking after them
myself and studying their little ways.  They need a lot of care, and get
sulky if they are not humoured, but it's the whole interest of gardening
to master these little eccentricities."

"Just my sentiments!" cried Peggy; but when in due time Rob escorted her
to see his precious garden, her face was blank with disappointment.  Two
straggling beds with a rockery filling up the corner, and scarcely a
gleam of colour from one end to another!  That at least was the effect
from a distance, but as the proprietor pointed out his treasures,
insignificant little blossoms were distinguishable among the greenery,
and flowers the size of a threepenny piece were produced proudly from
lurking-places and exhibited for admiration.  They all came from some
unheard-of spots at the other side of nowhere, had been reared with
prodigious difficulty, and were of such rarity and value that the heads
of public gardens had paid special pilgrimage to The Larches in order to
behold them.  Peggy's eyebrows went up in a peak, and her face
lengthened, but it was no use, she could not be enthusiastic, could not
even affect an interest in the struggling little lives.

After exclaiming: "How strange!"  "How odd!" and "Fancy that!" a dozen
times in succession, her very powers of exclamation seemed to depart,
and she was reduced to sighs and grunts of response.  In the middle of
the history of a jungle plant which was the glory of the collection, Rob
suddenly lifted his head and put a startling question:

"Are you interested?  Do you care to hear about it?"

Peggy looked at him and made a little sign of apology.

"Not--_much_, Rob!  It's curious, of course, but very `niggly,' don't
you think?  It makes no effect at all in the bed."

Rob rose from his knees, flicked the dust off his trousers, and cleared
his throat in that dry sepulchral manner which people adopt when they
long to say something sharp and cutting, but are too high-minded to
allow themselves to do so.  Then he pushed his cap back from his head,
whistled three bars of a popular tune, and said politely:

"There are some pink peonies coming out in the drive.  Better come along
and see them."

"Robert Darcy, I will--not--be--patronised!" cried Peggy, flashing
indignant eyes upon him from the altitude of his highest waistcoat
button.  "Don't pink peony me, if you please!  If it comes to a matter
of taste, I prefer my own to yours.  You have an interesting museum,
sir, but, allow me to tell you, a most inadequate garden!"

Then Rob was obliged to laugh, and in that laugh lost the last trace of
vexation.

"Sorry, Peg!  I'm a crusty beggar, but it's your own fault if I expected
too much.  You were always so patient with my hobbies that I thought you
would be interested in this too.  I'll do penance for baring you by
helping to arrange your garden in the way you _do_ like.  We'll draw out
our plans together, or rather you shall give the orders, and I'll do the
work.  Any leading ideas to offer?"

"Harmony of colour, and sequence of effect.  A constant succession of
flowers, assorted as to size, and forming agreeable contrasts to their
neighbours.  No red and magentas next door to each other in _my_ garden,
thank you!  Order in disorder, and every season well represented!"

"I see," said Rob gravely.  "It's an admirable idea, Mariquita,
admirable!  We'll set to work at once.  By means of digging up
everything that is in the beds at present, working diligently, and
waiting until you are old and grey-headed, there is no reason why you
should not attain your ambition in the course of the next twenty years!"

But Peggy had no intention of waiting twenty years, or twenty months
either.  Immediate effect was what she demanded, and she said as much to
Rob, and repeated the words with much emphasis, backing into a bed as
she spoke, and trampling some cherished seedlings to pieces with her
sharp little heels, whereupon Rob hastily called her attention in an
opposite direction, and promised meekly to further her desire.

Not for worlds would she have acknowledged the fact to another, but as
Peggy stood this afternoon surveying the empty beds before her, sundry
prickings of conscience began to rise, lest perchance she had been too
hasty in her decision to have naught to say to bedding-out plants.
Something must be done, and that quickly, or she trembled to think what
her friends and relatives would have to say upon the subject of the
"finest garden in the county."  With a vision of a prophetess she saw
before her paths of green sward arched with roses, a lily garden, sweet
and cool, and fragrant harmonies of colour massed against the trees; but
these were in the future, and in the present there were only empty beds,
with little sprigs of green peering up here and there through the dry
caked soil.

"At least I can dig up the beds and get rid of the weeds, and then
perhaps for this summer only we might take refuge in geraniums and
begonias.  Just for one summer, till something else will grow."  She
sighed, and set to work with her spade, giving it a push into the ground
with her foot in professional style, and pausing to gasp and straighten
her back between every second or third attempt.  Astonishing what hard
work it was, and how hot one got all of a sudden!  Peggy gathered the
weeds together, moralised darkly on their number, and set to work on the
surrounding beds, digging so vigorously that in an hour's time she felt
as if a week in bed would be barely sufficient to recoup her exhausted
energies.  Too weary to cross to a seat, she was holding on to her
spade, and slowly straightening her back, when she became conscious that
the foreman had approached from the house, and was regarding her with
curious eyes.

"There's two pieces short of that there paper for the drawing-room," he
announced.  "I thought fourteen pieces would ha' done it; but it's been
a mistake, it seems.  'Ave to get it made, I suppose, to finish the
corner."

"Oh, how dreadfully, dreadfully tiresome!  We will have to wait weeks
and weeks before we can get it, and it will keep everything back."

Peggy wrung her tired hands and looked the image of despair.

"You said that you were sure fourteen pieces would be enough; and we
told you at the time to be careful, as it had to be made!"

"Ay, it do seem a pity, don't it?  They rarely ever gets it the same
shade a second time," the man replied blandly.  Then he jerked his thumb
towards the flower-beds, and put a deprecatory question: "Didn't you
like them, then?  Wasn't they your fancy?"

"I don't know what you are talking about.  Was what my fancy?"

"Those 'ere things as they put in yesterday.  I thought, maybe, they was
something special, from the care they took about 'em."  He gave an
explanatory kick with his foot to the weeds piled up on the gravel path,
and there was a pause of two whole minutes before a weak little voice
inquired faintly:

"Who took such care?  Who put them in?  I don't understand."

"The young master up at The Larches and one of his gardeners.  They was
here for a good two hours.  We wondered to see you scratching them up.
Joe says to me, he says, `Go down and tell her,' he says.  `Oh,' I says,
`she knows what she's about!'  I says.  `She's not the sort to do a
trick like that,' I says."

Peggy's lips positively ached with the effort of twisting them into a
smile.

"That was very kind of you," she said.  "It would be a silly trick,
would it not?  Do you think you could boil the kettle for me now?  I
feel badly in need of some tea."



CHAPTER TWELVE.

Rob received Peggy's confession of her latest gardening exploit with a
roar of good-natured laughter.  She had been afraid lest he might be
angry, or--what would have been even worse--superior and forbearing; but
he was neither the one nor the other.  Such a genuine, Peggy-Pickle
trick, he declared, was worth taking some trouble to enjoy, and went far
towards consoling him for the advent of a fashionable young lady in the
place of his mischievous little friend.  His generosity was not
sufficient, however, to prevent him from enlarging on the exceeding
beauty of the seedlings which had been so ruthlessly disturbed, and
Peggy listened in an agony to a string of names wherein syllables ran
riot.  _Salpiglossis_!  Alas, alas! she had not the faintest idea what
the flower was like, but the name was exquisite, all-satisfying.  It
rolled off her tongue with sonorous effect.  To speak of it alone would
have been joy.  She looked so meek and wretched that Rob nerved himself
to fresh efforts, and wrought miracles on her behalf, so that if by any
chance she admired a plant in The Larches' garden, that plant was
transplanted bodily to Yew Hedge, and smiled a welcome to her on her
next approach.

The gardener pointed out the folly of moving plants in bloom, and
prophesied failure; but no failure came, for plants have their likes and
dislikes, like other living creatures, and there is no doubt that they
are more amiably disposed to some people than to others.  If another man
had been rash enough to disturb their flowering, they would have sulked
for the rest of the season, and made him suffer for his boldness; but no
plant ever sulked at Robert Darcy.  He had simply to lay it down in any
spot he liked, and, behold, it grew and flourished!  His fingers seemed
to possess the power to impart health and strength, and, thanks to his
care, Peggy soon felt safe from ridicule, at least on the score of her
garden, and could devote herself with an easy mind to the work indoors.
She experienced the usual string of aggravations which are known to
every one moving into a new house; tradesmen took twice the allotted
time to fulfil an order, and eventually sent home the wrong article;
patterns selected were invariably "out of stock"; escapes of gas made it
necessary to deface newly decorated walls; and effects which were
intended to be triumphs of artistic beauty, turned out snares and
disappointments.  From the lofty frame of mind which aims at nothing
short of perfection, Peggy subsided by degrees into that resigned
melancholy in which the exhausted strugglers feel that "anything will
do," if only, by chance, a house may be made fit to live in.

It was on the occasion of a final visit to town, two days before the
removal, that Mrs Asplin surprised Peggy by expressing a desire to bear
her company.

"I have several things to do, and I should like to go when I can have
your help," she said; and the vicar's face instantly assumed an
expression of the profoundest dejection.  He knew that his wife's
expeditions into town invariably demanded toll in the shape of a nervous
headache the next day, and hastened to raise his usual note of protest.
Why need she go?  Could she not send her order by post, or could not
Peggy buy what was wanted?  Why tire herself needlessly, when she had no
strength to spare?  She knew very well--"How unwell I shall be!"
concluded his wife for him with a laugh.  "Really and truly, Austin
dear, I want to do something this time that no one else can do for me.
I'll promise to be careful, and drive about all the time, and get a good
lunch."

"Penny omnibuses, and tea and scones!  I know your days in town.  Ah,
well, a wilful woman must have her way!  If you have made up your mind
to go, it's no use arguing; but I don't know what it can be you need so
badly.  We seem to have everything we need."

"Blessed, blessed, ignorance of man!" cried Peggy, rolling her eyes to
the ceiling.  "It's all very well for you, sir, who can never wear
anything but a black coat and hat, but consider the fascinations of
summer fashions to poor defenceless women!  Mrs Asplin and I want to
look at the shops, and groan in chorus over all the distracting
fripperies which we want so badly, and can't afford.  We pretend we have
weighty business; but that is the true explanation, isn't it, dear?"

"Oh yes--I love shop windows!" replied Mrs Asplin vaguely.  She had
wandered to the window, and stood looking out on to the garden, with her
back turned to her companions.  Peggy would have followed, but, on her
approach, the other walked quickly forward and began stooping over the
flower-beds, and snipping off the withered blossoms.  For some reason it
was evident that she did not wish to be followed, and Peggy felt an
uneasy pang at the sight of her flushed, exhausted face.  During her
lengthened visit to the vicarage she had become more and more conscious
of the lack of strength shown by the

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