In consideration of Arthur’s presence and of the late hours and
excitement of the night before, the next day was observed as a holiday
in the vicarage. Mrs. Asplin stayed in bed until lunch time, the boys
went for a bicycle ride, and Peggy and her brother had a delightful
chat together by the schoolroom fire, when he told her more details
about his own plans than he had been able to touch upon in a dozen
letters.
“The preliminary examination for Sandhurst begins on the 26th this
year,” he explained, “and so far as I can make out I shall romp through
it. I am going to take all the subjects in Class I.—mathematics,
Latin, French, geometrical drawing, and English composition; I’ll
astonish them in the last subject! Plenty of dash and go, eh
Peggy,—that’s the style to fetch ’em! In Class II. you can only take
two subjects, so I’m going in for chemistry and physics. I rather fancy
myself in physics, and if I don’t come out at the head of the list, or
precious near the head, it won’t be for want of trying. I have worked
like a nigger these last six months; between ourselves I thought I had
worked too hard a few days ago; I felt so stupid and dizzy, and my
head ached until I could hardly open my eyes. If I had not come away,
I believe I should have broken down, but I’m better already, and by
Tuesday I shall be as fit as a fiddle. I hope I do well, it would be so
jolly to cable out the news to the old pater, and I say, Peg, I don’t
mean to leave Sandhurst without bringing home something to keep as a
souvenir. At the end of each Christmas term a sword is presented to
the cadet who passes out first in the final exam.—‘The Anson Memorial
Sword.’ Mariquita!” Arthur smote his breast, and struck a fierce and
warlike attitude. “That sword is mine! In the days to come when you
are old and grey-headed, you will see that rusty blade hanging over my
ancestral hearth, and tell in faltering tones the story of the gallant
youth who wrested it from his opponents.”
“Ha, ha!” responded Peggy deeply. There was no particular meaning in
the exclamation, but it seemed right and fitting in the connection, and
had a smack of melodrama which was quite to her taste. “Of course you
will be first, Arthur!” she added, “and, oh dear! how proud I shall be
when I see you in all your uniform! I am thankful all my men relations
are soldiers, they are so much more interesting than civilians. It
would break my heart, Arthur, to think of you as a civilian! Of course
wars are somewhat disconcerting, but then one always hopes there won’t
be wars.”
“I don’t,” cried Arthur loudly. “No, no, active serve for me, and
plenty of it! ‘Come one, come all, this rock shall fly from its firm
base as soon as I!’ That’s my motto, and my ambition is the Victoria
Cross, and I’ll get that too before I’m done; you see if I don’t! It’s
the great ambition of my life, Peg. I lie awake and think of that
little iron cross; I go to sleep and dream of it, and see the two words
dancing before my eyes in letters of fire, ‘For Valour,’ ‘For Valour,’
‘For Valour.’ Ah!”—he drew a deep breath of excitement—“I don’t think
there is anything in the world I should envy if I could only gain that.”
Peggy gazed at him with kindling eyes. “You are a soldier’s son,”
she said, “and the grandson of a soldier, and the great grandson of
a soldier; it’s in your blood; you can’t help it—it’s in _my_ blood
too, Arthur! I give you my solemn word of honour that if the French or
Germans came over to invade this land, I’d”—Peggy seized the ruler
and waved it in the air with a gesture of fiercest determination—“I’d
fight them! There! I’d shoot at them; I’d go out and spike the guns;
I’d—I’d climb on the house-tops and throw stones at them. You needn’t
laugh, I tell you I should be terrible! I feel as if I could face a
whole regiment myself. The spirit, the spirit of my ancestors is in my
breast, Arthur Reginald, and woe betide that enemy who tries to wrest
from me my native land!” Peggy went off into a shriek of laughter, in
which Arthur joined until the sound of the merry peals reached Mrs.
Asplin’s ears as she lay wearily on her pillow, and brought a smile to
her pale face. “Bless the dears! How happy they are,” she murmured to
herself, nor even suspected that it was a wholesale massacre of foreign
nations which had been the cause of this gleeful outburst.
Arthur left the vicarage on Tuesday evening, seemingly much refreshed
by the few days’ change, though he still complained of his head and
pressed his hand over his eyes from time to time as though in pain. The
parting from Peggy was more cheerful than might have been expected, for
in a few more weeks Christmas would be at hand, when, as he himself
expressed it, he hoped to return with blushing honours thick upon him.
Peggy mentally expended her whole ten pounds in a present for the dear
handsome fellow, and held her head high in the consciousness of owning
a brother who was destined to be Commander-in-Chief of the British
forces in the years to come.
The same evening Robert returned from his visit to London. He had heard
of Peggy’s escapade from his father and sister, and was by no means so
grateful as that young lady had expected.
“What in all the world possessed you to play such a mad trick?” he
queried bluntly. “It makes me ill to think of it. Rushing off to London
on a wet, foggy night, never even waiting to inquire if there was a
return train, or to count if you had enough money to see you through!
Goodness only knows what might have happened! You are careless enough
in an ordinary way, but I must say I gave you credit for more sense
than that.”
“Well, but Rob,” pleaded Peggy aggrieved, “I don’t think you need
scold! I did it for you, and I thought you would be pleased.”
“Did you indeed. Well, you are mightily mistaken; I wouldn’t have let
you do a thing like that for all the prizes in the world. I don’t care
a rap for the wretched old microscope.”
“Oh! Oh!”
“In comparison, I mean. Of course I should have been glad to get it if
it had come to me in an ordinary way, but I was not so wrapped up in
the idea that I would not have been reasonable if you had come to me
quietly, and explained that you had missed the post.”
Peggy shook her head sagely. “You think so now, because the danger is
over, and you are sure it can’t happen. But I know better. I can tell
you exactly what would have happened. You wouldn’t have stormed or
raged, it would have been better if you had, and sooner over; you would
just have stood still, and—glared at me! When I’d finished speaking,
you would have swallowed two or three times over, as if you were
gulping down something which you dared not say, and then turned on your
heel and marched out of the room. That’s what you would have done, my
dear and honourable sir, and you know it.”
Robert hung his head and looked self-conscious.
“Well, if I had! A fellow can’t hide all he feels in the first moment
of disappointment. But I should have got over it, and you know very
well that I should never have brought it up against you. ‘Glared!’ What
if I did glare? There is nothing very terrible in that, is there?”
“Yes, there is. I could not have borne it, when I had been trying
so hard to help you. And it would not have been only the first few
minutes. Every time when you were quiet and depressed, when you looked
at your specimens through your little old glass and sighed, and pitched
it away as I’ve seen you do scores and scores of times, I should have
felt that it was my fault, and been in the depths of misery. No, no,
I’m sorry to the depths of my heart that I scared dear Mrs. Asplin and
the rest, but it is a matter of acute satisfaction to me to know that
your chance has in no way been hindered by your confidence in me!” and
Peggy put her head on one side, and coughed in a faint and lady-like
manner, which brought the twinkle back into Robert’s eyes.
“Good old Mariquita!” he cried, laughing. “‘Acute satisfaction’ is
good, Mariquita, decidedly good! You will make your name yet in the
world of letters. Well, as I said before, you are a jolly little brick,
and the best partner a fellow ever had! Mind you, I tell you straight
that I think you behaved badly in cutting off like that; but I’ll stand
by you to the others, and not let them sit upon you while I am there.”
“Thanks!” said Peggy, meekly. “But, oh, I beseech of you, don’t bring
up the subject if you can help it! I’m tired to death of it all! The
kindest thing you can do is to talk hard about something else, and
give them a fresh excitement to think about. Talk about—about—about
Rosalind if you will; anything will do, only, for pity’s sake, leave
me alone, and pretend there is not such a thing in the world as a
calendar!”
“Right you are!” said Robert, laughing. “I’ll steer clear of the rocks!
And as it happens I have got a piece of news that will put your doings
into the background at one fell swoop. Rosalind is going to give a
party! The Earl and Countess of B—— are coming down to the Larches
the week after next, and are going to bring their two girls with them.
They are great, lanky things, with about as much ‘go’ in the pair as
in one of your little fingers; but this party is to be given in their
honour. The mater has asked everyone of a right age within a dozen
miles around, and the house will be crammed with visitors. Your card is
coming to-morrow, and I hope you will give me the honour of the first
round, and as many as possible after that.”
“The first with pleasure; I won’t promise any more until I see how we
get on. It doesn’t seem appropriate to think of your dancing, Bob;
there is something too heavy and serious in your demeanour. Oswald
is different; he would make a charming dancing-master. Oh, it will
be an excitement! Mellicent will not be able to eat or sleep for
thinking of it; and poor Mrs. Asplin will be running up seams on the
sewing-machine, and making up ribbon bows from this day to that. I’m
glad I have a dress all ready and sha’n’t be bothered with any trying
on! You don’t know what it is to stand first on one leg and then on
the other, to be turned and pulled about as if you were a dummy, and
have pins stuck into you as if you were a pin-cushion! I adore pretty
clothes, but every time I go to the dressmaker’s I vow and declare that
I shall take to sacks. Tell them at dinner, do, and they will talk
about it for the rest of the evening!”
Peggy’s prophecy came true, for the subject of Rosalind’s party became
a topic of such absorbing interest as left room for little else during
the next few weeks. New dresses had to be bought and made for the
girls, and Peggy superintended the operations of the village dressmaker
with equal satisfaction to herself and her friends.
Rosalind appeared engrossed in preparations, and two or three times
a week, as the girls trudged along the muddy roads, with Fräulein
lagging in the rear, the jingle of bells would come to their ears,
and Rosalind’s two white long-tailed ponies would come dashing
past, drawing the little open carriage in which their mistress sat,
half-hidden among a pile of baskets and parcels. She was always
beautiful, and radiant, and, as she passed, she would turn her head
over her shoulders and look at the three mud-bespattered pedestrians
with a smile of pitying condescension which made Peggy set her teeth
and draw her eyebrows together in an ominous frown.
One day she condescended to stop and speak a few words from her throne
among the cushions.
“How de do? So sowwy not to have been to see you! Fwightfully busy,
don’t you know. We are decowating the wooms, and don’t know how to
furnish in time. It’s going to be quite charming!”
“We know! We know! Rob told us. I’m dying to see it. You should ask
Peggy to help you if you are in a hurry. She’s s—imply splendid at
decorations! Mother says she never knew anyone so good at it as Peggy!”
cried Mellicent, with an outburst of gushing praise, in acknowledgment
of which she received a thunderous frown and such a sharp pinch on the
arm as penetrated through all her thick winter wrappings.
Rosalind, however, only ejaculated, “Oh, weally!” in an uninterested
manner, and whipped up her ponies without taking any further notice of
the suggestion; but it had taken root in her mind all the same, and she
did not forget to question her brother on the first opportunity.
Mellicent Asplin had said that Peggy Saville was clever at decoration.
Was it true, and would it be the least use asking her to come and help
in the decorations?
Robert laughed, and wagged his head with an air of proud assurance.
Clever! Peggy? She was a witch! She could work wonders! If you set her
down in an empty room, and gave her two-and-sixpence to transform it
into an Alhambra, he verily believed she could do it. The way in which
she had rigged up the various characters for the Shakespeare reading
was nothing short of miraculous. Yes, indeed, Peggy would be worth a
dozen ordinary helpers. The question was, would she come?
“Certainly she will come. I’ll send down for her at once,” said
Rosalind promptly, and forthwith sat down and wrote a dainty little
note, not to Peggy herself, but to Mrs. Asplin, stating that she had
heard great accounts of Peggy Saville’s skill in the art of decoration,
and begging that she might be allowed to come up to the Larches to
help with the final arrangements, arriving as early as possible on the
day of the party, and bringing her box with her so as to be saved the
fatigue of returning home to dress. It was a prettily-worded letter,
and Mrs. Asplin was dismayed at the manner of its reception.
“No, Peggy Saville won’t!” said that young person, pursing her lips
and tossing her head in her most high and mighty manner. “She won’t
do anything of the sort! Why should I go? Let her ask some of her own
friends! I’m not her friend! I should simply loath to go!”
“My dear Peggy! When you are asked to help! When this entertainment is
given for your pleasure, and you can be of real use——”
“I never asked her to give the party! I don’t care whether I go or not!
She is simply making use of me for her own convenience!”
“It is not the first or only time that you have been asked, as you know
well, Peggy. And sometimes you have enjoyed yourself very much. You
said you would never forget the pink luncheon. In spite of all you say,
you owe Rosalind thanks for some pleasant times; and now you can be of
some service to her—— Well, I’m not going to force you, dear. I hate
unwilling workers, and if it’s not in your heart to go, stay at home,
and settle with your conscience as best you can.”
Peggy groaned with sepulchral misery.
“Wish I hadn’t got no conscience! Tiresome, presuming thing that it
is—always poking itself forward and making remarks when it isn’t
wanted. I suppose I shall have to go, and run about from morning till
night, holding a pair of scissors and nasty little balls of string, for
Rosalind’s use! Genius indeed! What’s the use of talking about genius?
I know very well I shall not be allowed to do anything but run about
and wait upon her. It’s no use staring at me, Mrs. Asplin. I mean it
all—every single word.”
“No, you don’t, Peggy! No, you don’t, my little kind, warm-hearted
Peggy! I know better than that! It’s just that foolish tongue that is
running away with you, dearie. In your heart you are pleased to do a
service for a friend, and are going to put your whole strength into
doing it as well and tastefully as it can be done.”
“I’m not! I’m not! I’m not! I’m savage, and it’s no use pretending——”
“Yes, you are! I know it! What is the good of having a special gift
if one doesn’t put it to good use? Ah, that’s the face I like to see!
I didn’t recognise my Peggy with that ugly frown. I’ll write and say
you’ll come with pleasure.”
“It’s to please you, then, not Rosalind!” said Peggy obstinately. But
Mrs. Asplin only laughed, dropped a kiss upon her cheek, and walked
away to answer the invitation forthwith.
(_To be continued._)
ABSENCE.
BY INA NOEL.
I call to thee across the space that lies
Between us now and keeps thee from my eyes;
But, like a tired swallow on the sea,
Words fall and die, unheard alas! by thee.
No tone of mine can reach thee now, belov’d,
No sound of human voice will bridge the deep,
Only my spirit calling through the dark
May stir a smile upon thy lips in sleep.
[Illustration]
THREE GIRL-CHUMS, AND THEIR LIFE IN LONDON ROOMS.
BY FLORENCE SOPHIE DAVSON.