Produced by Al Haines
[Frontispiece: The girls paused and waved their handkerchiefs.]
PEGGY-ALONE
BY
MARY AGNES BYRNE
AUTHOR OF
"THE LITTLE WOMAN IN THE SPOUT,"
"LITTLE DAME TROT,"
"ROY AND ROSYROCKS,"
"THE FAIRY CHASES," ETC.
DRAWINGS BY
ANNA B. CRAIG
THE SAALFIELD PUBLISHING COMPANY
CHICAGO ---- AKRON, OHIO ---- NEW YORK
_Copyright, 1909_
_By_
_The Saalfield Publishing Co._
TO MY SISTER TRESS
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. PEGGY-ALONE
II. UNCLE FRED
III. GUMDROPS
IV. THE GARDEN OF GOOD INTENTIONS
V. A DISGUSTED POET
VI. A SCORNFUL BEAUTY
VII. THEATRICALS
VIII. PICNICKING
IX. TISSUE-PAPER HATS
X. ALENE'S VISITORS
XI. TAFFY PULLING
XII. A STRING OF FISH
XIII. A GIRLISH TIFF
XIV. THE PILGRIM'S PROGRESS
XV. AFTER THE SHOW
XVI. LAURA'S PROPOSITION
XVII. IN THE BERRY PATCH
XVIII. TO THE RESCUE
XIX. THE BLUE BOX
XX. MRS. KUMP'S BIRTHDAY
XXI. TO CHINA IN A GLASS-BOAT
XXII. VEXATIONS AND CONSOLATIONS
XXIII. THE CRIMSON BAG
XXIV. THE GARDEN PARTY
XXV. IVY'S FRIEND
XXVI. AN ADVENTURE
XXVII. IN THE TOWER
PEGGY-ALONE
CHAPTER I
PEGGY-ALONE
"Down, Prince!"
High above the shrill exclamations of surprise and terror came that
thin silvery command which the dog, great black fellow that he was,
obeyed at once, and his flight in pursuit of those daring petticoats
which had intruded on his master's orchard was brought to an
ignominious end.
"Girls, say, girls, don't be frightened! He won't bite!"
One of the children had already scaled the wall, dropping her apron of
apples on the way. She stood ready to help the second down, while the
third and largest, who had kept in the rear between the smaller ones
and their pursuer, waiting to see them safely over ere hastening her
own steps, on hearing those friendly words paused and looked back.
Some distance away, under the apple trees on the grassy terrace, stood
a little girl dressed all in white; a wreath of green ivy-vines crowded
her glossy curls which fell to her waist and framed her thin face; one
tiny hand was raised in a beckoning gesture and the other was placed
firmly on the head of the dog.
Leading him, she approached the girl who waited in mute surprise.
"Do tell them not to go. They needn't be afraid of Prince now!"
"She says not to be afraid," hallooed the largest girl, whereupon the
fugitives came back and seated themselves upon the wall overlooking the
scene.
The girl with the dog had come forward. She stood looking half shyly,
but with evident good-will, from the little maids on the wall to their
friend who had turned after recalling the others, and came back a few
steps to meet her.
"What are their names?" inquired the stranger.
"This is Ivy Bonner," the other said in a formal tone, pointing to her
thinner companion, who swung her feet on the outside of the wall and,
though she sat only half-facing them, seemed to see everything that
went on. "And this is my sister Nettie," she continued, indicating the
chubby, flaxen-haired party whose ruddy cheeks and great staring blue
eyes reminded one of an over-grown doll-baby.
As each name was pronounced its owner gave a ceremonious little bow
such as is always used in make-believe introductions, and the newcomer
bowed gravely to each in acknowledgment. Then she turned again to the
largest girl.
"And yours?"
"I am Laura--Laura Lee."
"What's hers?" called Ivy, who felt that there was something lacking in
the ceremony.
"Oh, my name's Alene Dawson," was the answer, and then, turning to
Laura, she added with a somewhat rueful laugh, "but Uncle sometimes
calls me Peggy-Alone."
"Why does he call you such a funny name?"
"Why, you see I'm so much by myself, now that mother and father went
away and left me here with Uncle Fred. I get lonesome all by myself!"
"I should think you would!" cried Laura compassionately.
"Let's sit down," suggested Alene. They did so, side by side, on the
grass, while Prince reclined lazily beside them.
"Do you live in the Big House?" inquired Laura, glancing toward a
building which stood far up on the level ground overlooking the
terraced hill; a substantial house whose gray stone walls and square
tower were partly hid with vines. It was the most pretentious
habitation in the town and occupied the most beautiful site. Laura and
her friends regarded it somewhat as a fairy palace, around which they
wove many fanciful romances.
"I'm a-visiting there now but when Uncle goes down town and the maids
are all at work I don't know what to do with myself; and when I saw you
all here among the trees I just hurried down, I was so glad to see a
crowd of girls, but naughty Prince ran ahead and scared you away! What
were you playing?"
"We weren't playing; we were just picking apples."
Alene looked horrified.
"You see, Mr. Dawson allows us to come in and take all we want,"
explained Laura hurriedly, while a shrill voice from the wall cried:
"We weren't _stealing_!"
"I never thought that!"
"Well, she looked as if she did," commented Ivy.
"I looked surprised because--well--to think you would eat such green
apples."
This statement brought forth a ripple of amusement from the two critics
and Alene with reddened cheeks turned to the girl at her side.
"Well, they are dangerous, aren't they?"
"Don't mind those kids, they giggle at 'most anything. You see we are
used to eating them and they are not injurious if you eat 'em with
salt," explained Laura, though not very clearly.
"She's to take the kids and the apples with a little salt!" cried Ivy.
"Just try one!"
Alene sank her teeth rather gingerly into the rounded green cheek of
the proffered apple.
"It's rather sour!" she said, trying to repress a grimace but unable to
keep the tears from her eyes.
Laura took from her apron pocket a tiny glass saltcellar and shook some
of its contents lightly over the next bite which Alene heroically
swallowed.
"It's not so very bad," she murmured. So intent was she on accepting
Laura's intended kindness graciously that she envied the ease with
which Ivy and Nettie disposed of the apples, biting off great mouthfuls
and chewing them, core and all, with evident enjoyment.
Laura forgot to eat any herself, being content to watch Alene's
performance and never dreaming what a task it was for her.
"Say, Laura!" came a voice in a loud, hissing tone intended for a
whisper; "she's got lace on her petticoat."
"And silk stockings and slippers!"
"Hush--'tisn't polite to whisper before comp'ny," admonished Laura.
"I don't mind the little thing," said Alene in a confidential aside to
Laura, regardless of the fact that the "little thing" was nearly as
large as herself.
"But she acts years and years older," was Laura's inward comment. "I
guess she's used to 'sociating with grown folks."
"I don't like to wear lace-trimmed things, either," continued Alene.
"Why, I think they're lovely," said Laura, tenderly fingering one of
the flounces which billowed like waves against her own blue print.
"But you don't have to wear them and be 'called down' by your governess
every minute for fear they'll get torn or dirty!"
"Have you a governess?" inquired Laura in a tone of awe.
"Yes, but she took sick just after mother went away and had to go to
the hospital. You see mother expected her to come here and take care
of me. Uncle hasn't told mother 'cause he don't want to spoil their
trip and he thinks it won't hurt me to learn to take care of myself.
It's the first time I ever went round without a nurse or someone
tagging after me, telling me to do this or not to do that--it's lovely
to be free, girls!"
"'Give me liberty or give me death!'" said Laura in a tragic tone, and
Alene squeezed her hand.
"Oh, Laura, it's so nice to talk with someone who understands! But in
spite of being so free, I get so _lonely_!"
Laura's eyes shone with sudden comprehension.
"Oh, you poor little lonely baby," she said to herself, and then aloud,
"Alene, I wish you could join the Happy-Go-Luckys."
"The Happy-Go-Luckys? What are they?"
"A kind of _club_--you know."
"A club," said Alene, in such a doubtful tone that Laura took a sudden
fit of laughter.
"Oh, Alene, you're so funny! It's not a club to _hit_ with, but just
us--a crowd of girls--to go together for fun and to do things."
"Oh, Laura! Would you really let me join, if Uncle will allow?"
"I'd love to, but we have some rules and bylaws--to be eligible the
candidate's age must be at least twelve!" Laura from long practice was
able to repeat the big words glibly.
"And I won't be twelve till July the seventeenth! Oh, Laura!"
"That's not so far off!"
"But what'll become of me till then? I'll die of loneliness!"
"I was going to say that July seventeenth is so near, and you seem so
much older, that we'll have a special election, and--well, we'll
stretch the rules to let you in."
Alene gave a sigh of relief.
"As I'm not so very large, you won't have to stretch them very far,"
she said, encouragingly.
"If she's little, she's old, like Andy Daly's pig!" Again came that
sibilant whisper.
"Alene, don't mind her!"
"But why does she say that?"
"It's an old Irish saying. You see, Andy Daly took his pig to market
and they objected to its size--'If it's little, it's old' said Andy
Daly; and so they say, 'If it's little, it's old, like Andy Daly's
pig!'"
Alene laughed and called over to the whisperer:
"If I'm little, I'm old enough to be a Happy-Go-Lucky--so there!"