A VERY BAD CHILD.
Now I must tell you about something naughty that Peggy did. This was how
it came about.
All the rest of the evening Aunt Euphemia and Martin seemed to think
that Peggy was in disgrace, because she had spoilt her frock, and
perhaps also because she was a little bit sulky. It is a horrid thing to
sulk. It does no good; but often one wants to do it so much. Aunt
Euphemia went and sat out in the garden after tea, and made Peggy sit
beside her playing with a doll, and all the time she was anxious to be
pounding chalk instead, so she didn’t care in the least for her doll.
The only thing she could do was to pretend that she was very angry with
the doll, and beat it severely several times. But even this did not make
the evening pass quickly. It was a terribly hot day, and that made Peggy
feel cross also. After supper Aunt Euphemia read aloud what she thought
was a nice story to her; but Peggy didn’t care about it in the least,
and at eight o’clock she was put to bed by Martin, who was still rather
grim.
Peggy’s room was on the ground floor, and had a great big window. She
asked Martin to let her keep the blind up, so that she might look out
and see the ships if she wasn’t asleep; but Martin said that if she
wasn’t asleep she should be, and drew down the blind. Peggy fell asleep
pretty soon after this; but it was so hot that she soon woke and sat up
in bed. It must have been only two or three hours since she went to bed,
for it was still a soft dusk outside, as it often is between ten and
eleven o’clock on a mid-summer night.
“Oh, how hot!” Peggy thought. Then she got up, and walked across the
floor to the window, and lifted the blind. How cool and sweet the garden
was! She stood and looked out, and wondered if every one had gone to
bed, the house sounded so quiet. Then a sudden thought struck her. Why
shouldn’t she get out at the window, and go and play at finding pearls
just now? No one would know, and the chalk wouldn’t leave any mark on
her nightgown. Because it was still light, it never occurred to Peggy to
feel frightened to go out into the garden. She thought it would be the
greatest fun to have her game in spite of Aunt Euphemia and Martin; so
she wriggled on her little white dressing-gown, and drawing a chair to
the window, climbed up on it, and threw up the window very softly.
That was quite easy to do; and oh, it was nice outside! The grass felt
so delicious to her bare feet—so cool and rough. She had to run right
across the lawn to get to the steps, and there were the dear chalk lumps
lying waiting for her, and her pounding-stone!
“I must be _very_ careful not to make a noise, for then Martin might
look out and see me,” she thought; and so she squeezed the chalk
carefully and quietly, and searched among it for the precious little
white stones.
What fun it was to be doing this unknown to any one! And then all of a
sudden the game seemed to lose its pleasure, because Peggy knew quite
well she shouldn’t do it. She would not confess this to herself for some
time, but went on crushing the chalk and thinking. Then she rose a
little uneasily, and laid down her stone, and stood up.
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“I think I must go back to bed, and say my prayer, and perhaps I’ll be
forgiven,” she said to herself.
Just as she stood up, she heard the trot of a horse passing on the road.
The wall was very low which separated the garden from the road, and any
one riding past could see her distinctly as she stood there. The horse
stopped.
“Hullo! is this a little ghost?” said a voice speaking to her.
Peggy was terribly frightened. She knew it was Dr. Seaton’s voice. She
stood, and made no answer.
“Is that you, Peggy?” he asked; “and why are you out here so late at
night?”
Peggy knew it was impossible to hide. She answered in a trembling voice,
“Yes, it’s me; I’m playing.”
“Playing? Does your aunt know? What have you got on?” he asked.
He tied up the horse to a tree, and jumping over the low garden wall,
came to where Peggy stood.
“Child, what are you doing?—bare feet, and scarcely any clothes on!”
“Oh, I _wanted_ to play at it—at pounding chalk; and auntie wouldn’t
let me in the day-time, and I came out, and it was so nice at first, and
then it turned horrid; and, oh, I’m frightened, and I want to go back to
bed!” she sobbed.
“You should be scolded for this, Peggy, but it’s too late for that now.
Come, and I’ll lift you in at your window, and you will soon be asleep
again,” said Dr. Seaton. He stooped down, and lifted Peggy right up in
his arms, and carried her across the lawn to the window. “And now,
suppose I hadn’t happened to see you, how would you have got in there?”
he asked. “You know, Peggy, getting out of a window is a different
matter from getting in at it again.”
The thought of this appalled Peggy. What indeed would she have done?
“_Oh, they would have found out!_” she said in a terrified whisper.
“Don’t you mean to let them find out, as it is?” Dr. Seaton asked very
gravely. “When you do what is wrong, the best thing you can do is to
tell about it, Peggy. But it’s too late for lectures. Get in at the
window, and jump into bed, and go to sleep. Think about your sins in the
morning. Good-night, little one.”
He lifted her through the window, and she landed safely on the chair. It
seemed to Peggy that she must have been out for hours and hours, and she
crept into bed and drew the blankets round her, feeling very much
ashamed indeed. In the distance she heard the trot of Dr. Seaton’s horse
as it went off down the road.
Now I wonder whether Peggy would have had the courage to confess her
adventure to Aunt Euphemia. As it turned out, she was forced to do so;
for the next thing she remembered was Martin standing beside her saying,
“Time to get up, Miss Peggy,” in her cross voice. Peggy was always glad
to jump up; and this morning, though she felt there was something
disagreeable that she couldn’t remember, she jumped up as gladly as
usual. “Come away to your bath,” said Martin, who always superintended
her toilet. Peggy loved her bath, and was playing with the soap and the
sponge when Martin came to hurry her.
“Not in your bath yet? I never saw such a child for putting off time!”
she said.
“I was just floating the big sponge for a minute,” apologized Peggy; but
as she spoke, Martin pounced upon her.
“Mercy me! how ever did you get these feet?” she demanded.
Peggy looked down. Her little white feet were all dabbled with earth
stains and green streaks. The lawn had been very wet with dew, and she
had run across it and then across two of the flower-beds, so the earth
had stuck to her damp feet and stained them brown.
“_Oh!_” said Peggy. She was very frightened. Then she remembered Dr.
Seaton’s advice. “I think, Martin,” she said, “I will go and speak to
auntie alone.” And without more ado, she ran across the passage and into
Aunt Euphemia’s room without giving herself time to think. You will find
this isn’t a bad way of telling about anything you are afraid to tell.
“Please, auntie, I’ve come to show you my feet, and tell. It’s because I
went out last night through the window, after I was put to bed. I wanted
to pound chalk again, and I did for quite a long time, and then I
didn’t, and I went back to bed,” she cried all in a breath, holding up
her night-dress to show the brown earth-stains on her feet. Aunt
Euphemia sat up in bed and stared.
“Peggy!” she exclaimed, “you went out—went out into the garden in your
night-dress!”
“Yes. Please, auntie don’t be very angry. I didn’t mean to do anything
wrong; it was only that I wanted so very much to find some more pearls,”
Peggy pleaded.
Martin came in, grim and rather pleased to have found Peggy out in such
a fault.
“There’s no doing with her, Miss Roberts,” she said—“always in some
mischief or other; and if I may suggest, I think a young lady that could
do so wrong should just be kept in her bed all day. I doubt but she’ll
have got a chill too. A day in bed will just be the best thing for her.”
Aunt Euphemia always agreed with everything Martin said, and Peggy knew
her fate was sealed. Outside, the beautiful, happy world was all green
and bright; but she was going to be put to bed and kept there all day.
“Come away,” said Martin triumphantly; “you must just take your bath,
and then go back to your bed, Miss Peggy. No jam with your bread to-day,
mind.”
So Peggy was bathed and put to bed; and turning her face to the wall,
she wept long and bitterly and repented of her sins.
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