A week after this, Mrs. Saville came to pay her farewell visit before
sailing for India. Mother and daughter went out for a long walk in the
morning, and retired to the drawing-room together for the afternoon.
There was much that they wanted to say to each other, yet for the most
part they were silent, Peggy sitting with her head on her mother's
shoulder, and Mrs. Saville's arms clasped tightly round her. Every now
and then she stroked the smooth brown head, and sometimes Peggy raised
her lips and kissed the cheek which leant against her own, but the
sentences came at long intervals.
"If I were ill, mother--a long illness, would you come?"
"On wings, darling! As fast as boat and train could bring me."
"And if you were ill?"
"I should send for you if it were within the bounds of possibility,
I promise that! You must write often, Peggy--long, long letters. Tell
me all you do, and feel, and think. You will be almost a woman when we
meet again. Don't grow up a stranger to me, darling."
"Every week, mother! I'll write something each day, and then it will be
like a diary. I'll tell you every bit of my life...."
"Be a good girl, Peggy. Do all you can for Mrs. Asplin, who is so
kind to you. She will give you what money you need, and if at anytime
you should want more than your ordinary allowance, for presents or
any special purpose, just tell her about it, and she will understand.
You can have anything in reason; I want you to be happy. Don't fret,
dearie. I shall be with father, and the time will pass. In three years
I shall be back again, and then, Peg, then, how happy we shall be! Only
three years."
Peggy shivered and was silent. Three years seem an endless space when
one is young. She shut her eyes and pondered drearily upon all that
would happen before the time of separation was passed. She would be
seventeen, nearly eighteen--a young lady who wore dresses down to
her ankles, and did up her hair. This was the last time, the very,
very last time when she would be a child in her mother's arms. The new
relationship might be nearer, sweeter, but it could never be the same,
and the very sound of the words "the last time" sends a pang to the
heart.
Half an hour later the carriage drove up to the door. Mr. and Mrs.
Asplin came into the room to say a few words of farewell, and then left
Peggy to see her mother off. There were no words spoken on the way, and
so quietly did they move that Robert had no suspicion that anyone was
near as he took off his shoes in the cloak-room opening off the hall.
He tossed his cap on to a nail, picked up his book, and was just about
to sally forth, when the sound of a woman's voice sent a chill through
his veins. The tone of the voice was low, almost a whisper, yet he
had never in his life heard anything so thrilling as its intense and
yearning tenderness. "Oh, my Peggy!" it said. "My little Peggy!" And
then, as in reply, came a low moaning sound, a feeble bleat like that
of a little lamb torn from its mother's side. Robert charged back into
the cloak-room, and kicked savagely at the boots and shoes which were
scattered about the floor, his lips pressed together, and his brows
meeting in a straight black line across his forehead. Another minute
and the carriage rolled away. He peeped out of the door in time to
see a little figure fly out into the driving rain, and walking slowly
towards the school-room came face to face with Mrs. Asplin.
"Gone?" she inquired sadly. "Well, I'm thankful it is over. Poor little
dear, where is she? Flown up to her room, I suppose. We'll leave her
alone until tea-time. It will be the truest kindness."
"Yes," said Robert vaguely. He was afraid that the good lady would
not be so willing to leave Peggy undisturbed if she knew her real
whereabouts, and was determined to say nothing to undeceive her. He
felt sure that the girl had hidden herself in the summer-house at the
bottom of the garden, and a nice damp mouldy retreat it would be this
afternoon, with the rain driving in through the open window, and the
creepers dripping on the walls. Just the place in which to sit and
break your heart and catch rheumatic fever with the greatest possible
ease and comfort. And yet Robert said no word of warning to Mrs.
Asplin. He had an inward conviction that if any one were to go to the
rescue that person should be himself, and that he, more than anyone
else, would be able to comfort Peggy in her affliction. He sauntered
up and down the hall until the coast was clear, and then dashed once
more into the cloak-room, took an Inverness coat from a nail, a pair
of goloshes from the floor, and sped rapidly down the garden-path. In
less than two minutes he had reached the summer-house and was peeping
cautiously in at the door. Yes; he was right. There sat Peggy, with
her arms stretched out before her on the rickety table, her shoulders
heaving with long, gasping sobs. Her fingers clenched and unclenched
themselves spasmodically, and the smooth little head rolled to and fro
in an abandonment of grief. Robert stood looking on in silent misery.
He had a boy's natural hatred of tears, and of anything like a scene,
and his first impulse was to turn tail, go back to the house, and send
someone to take his place, but even as he stood hesitating he shivered
in the chilly damp, and remembered the principal reason of his coming.
He stepped forward and dropped the cloak over the bent shoulders,
whereupon Peggy started up and turned a scared white face upon him.
"Who, who--oh! it is you! What do you want?"
"Nothing. I saw you come out, and thought you would be cold. I brought
you out my coat."
"I don't want it; I am quite warm. I came here to be alone."
"I know; I'm not going to bother. Mrs. Asplin thinks you are in your
room, and I didn't tell her that I'd seen you go out. But it's damp. If
you catch cold your mother will be sorry."
Peggy looked at him thoughtfully, and there was a glimmer of gratitude
in her poor tear-stained eyes.
"Yes; I p-p-romised to be careful. You are very kind, but I can't think
of anything to-night. I am too miserably wretched."
"I know; I've been through it. I was sent away to a boarding-school
when I was a little kid of eight, and I howled myself to sleep every
night for weeks. It is worse for you, because you are older, but you
will be happy enough in this place when you get settled. Mrs. Asplin
is a brick, and we have no end of fun. It is ever so much better than
being at school, and, I say, you mustn't mind what Mellicent said the
other night. She's a little muff, always saying the wrong thing. We
were only chaffing when we said you were to be our fag. We never really
meant to bully you."
"You c-couldn't if you t-tried," stammered Peggy brokenly, but with a
flash of her old spirit which delighted her hearer.
"No; of course not. You can stand up for yourself; I know that very
well. But look here, I'll make a compact if you will. Let us be
friends. I'll stick to you and help you when you need it, and you stick
to me. The other girls have their brother to look after them, but if
you want anything done, if anyone is cheeky to you and you want him
kicked, for instance, just come to me and I'll do it for you. It's all
nonsense about being a fag, but there are lots of things you could do
for me if you would, and I'd be awfully grateful. We might be partners
and help one another----"
Robert stopped in some embarrassment, and Peggy stared fixedly at him,
the pale face peeping out from the folds of the Inverness coat. She
had stopped crying, though the tears still trembled on her eyelashes,
and her chin quivered in uncertain fashion. Her eyes dwelt on the
broad forehead, the overhanging brows, the square, massive chin, and
brightened with a flash of approval.
"You are a nice boy," she said slowly. "I like you! You don't really
need my help, but you thought it would cheer me to feel that I was
wanted. Yes; I'll be your partner, and I'll be of real use to you yet.
You'll find that out, Robert, before you have done with me."
"All right, so much the better. I hope you will, but you know you can't
expect to have your own way all the time. I'm the senior partner, and
you will have to do what I tell you. Now I say it's damp in this hole,
and you ought to come back to the house at once. It's enough to kill
you to sit in this draught."
"I'd rather like to be killed. I'm tired of life. I shouldn't mind
dying a bit."
"Humph!" said Robert shortly. "Jolly cheerful news that would be for
your poor mother when she arrived at the end of her journey. Don't be
so selfish. Now, then, up you get. Come along to the house."
"I wo----" Peggy began, then suddenly softened, and glanced
apologetically into his face. "Yes, I will, because you ask me. Smuggle
me up to my room, Robert, and don't, don't, if you love me, let
Mellicent come near me! I couldn't stand her chatter to-night!"
"She will have to fight her way over my dead body," said Robert firmly,
and Peggy's sweet little laugh quavered out on the air.
"Nice boy!" she repeated heartily. "Nice boy, I do like you!"
(_To be continued._)
[Illustration]
"IN MINE HOUSE."
BY LINA ORMAN COOPER, Author of "The King's Daughters," etc.