“Something has happened! Something terrible has happened to the child!
And she was left in our charge. We are responsible. Oh, if any harm has
happened to Peggy, however, ever, ever, can I bear to live and send the
news to her parents----”
“My dearest, you have done your best; you could not have been kinder or
more thoughtful. No blame can attach to you. Remember that Peggy is in
higher hands than yours. However far from us she may be, she can never
stray out of God’s keeping. It all seems very dark and mysterious,
but----”
At this moment a loud rat-tat-tat sounded on the knocker, and with one
accord the hearers darted into the hall and stood panting and gasping
while Arthur threw open the door.
“Telegram, sir!” said a sharp, young voice, and the brown envelope
which causes so much agitation in quiet households was thrust forward
in a small cold hand. Arthur looked at the address and handed it to the
Vicar.
“It is for you, sir, but it cannot possibly be anything about----”
Mr. Asplin tore open the envelope, glanced over the words, and
broke into an exclamation of amazement. “It is! It is from Peggy
herself!--‘Euston Station. Returning by 10.30 train. Please meet me at
twelve o’clock.--Peggy.’ What in the world does it mean?” He looked
round the group of anxious faces, only to see his own expression of
bewilderment repeated on each in turn.
“Euston! Returning! She is in London. She is coming back from town!”
“She ran away to London, to-night when she was so happy, when Arthur
had just arrived! Why? Why? Why?” “She must have caught the seven
o’clock train.” “She must have left the house almost immediately after
going upstairs to dress for dinner.” “Oh, father, why should she go to
London?”
“I am quite unable to tell you, my dear,” replied the Vicar drily. He
looked at his wife’s white, exhausted face, and his eyes flashed with
the “A-word-with-you-in-my-study” expression, which argued ill for Miss
Peggy’s reception. Mrs. Asplin, however, was too thankful to know of
the girl’s safety to have any thought for herself. She began to smile,
with the tears still running down her face, and to draw long breaths of
relief and satisfaction.
“It’s no use trying to guess at that, Millie dear. It is enough for
me to know that she is alive and well. We shall just have to try and
compose ourselves in patience until we hear Peggy’s own explanation.
Let me see! There is nearly an hour before you need set out. What can
we do to pass the time as quickly as possible?”
“Have some coffee, I should say! None of us have had too much dinner,
and a little refreshment would be very welcome after all this strain,”
said Arthur, promptly, and Mrs. Asplin eagerly welcomed the suggestion.
“That’s what I call a really practical proposal! Ring the bell, dear,
and I will order it at once. I am sure we shall all have thankful
hearts while we drink it.” She looked appealingly at Mr. Asplin as she
spoke, but there was no answering smile on his face. The lines down his
cheeks looked deeper and grimmer than ever.
“Oh, goody, goody, goodness, aren’t I glad I am not Peggy!” sighed
Mellicent to herself, while Arthur Saville pursed his lips together,
and thought, “Poor little Peg! She’ll catch it. I’ve never seen the
dominie look so savage. This is a nice sort of treat for a fellow who
has been ordered away for rest and refreshment! I wish the next two
hours were safely over.”
Wishing unfortunately, however, can never carry us over the painful
crises of our lives. We have to face them as best we may, and Arthur
needed all his cheery confidence to sustain him during the damp walk
which followed, when the Vicar tramped silently by his side, his shovel
hat pulled over his eyes, his mackintosh coat flapping to and fro in
the wind.
They reached the station in good time, and punctually to the minute the
lights of the London express were seen in the distance. The train drew
up, and among the few passengers who alighted the figure of Peggy, in
her scarlet trimmed hat, was easily distinguished. She was assisted
out of the carriage by an elderly gentleman, in a big travelling coat,
who stood by her side as she looked about for her friends. As Mr.
Asplin and Arthur approached, they only heard his hearty, “Now you are
all right!” and Peggy’s elegant rejoinder, “Exceedingly indebted to you
for all your kindness!” Then he stepped back into the carriage, and she
came forward to meet them, half shy, half smiling, “I--I am afraid that
you----”
“We will defer explanations, Mariquita, if you please, until we reach
home. A fly is waiting. We will return as quickly as possible,” said
the Vicar frigidly, and the brother and sister lagged behind as he led
the way out of the station, gesticulating and whispering together in
furtive fashion.
“Oh, you Peggy! _Now_ you have done it! No end of a row!”
“Couldn’t help it! So sorry. Had to go. Stick to me, Arthur, whatever
you do!”
“Like a leech! We’ll worry through somehow. Never say die!” Then the
fly was reached, and they jolted home in silence.
Mrs. Asplin and the four young folks were sitting waiting in the
drawing-room, and each one turned an eager, excited face towards the
doorway as Peggy entered, her cheeks white, but with shining eyes, and
hair ruffled into little ends beneath the scarlet cap. Mrs. Asplin
would have rushed forward in welcome, but a look in her husband’s face
restrained her, and there was a deathlike silence in the room as he
took up his position by the mantelpiece.
“Mariquita,” he said slowly, “you have caused us to-night some hours
of the most acute and painful anxiety which we have ever experienced.
You disappeared suddenly from among us, and until ten o’clock, when
your telegram arrived, we had not the faintest notion as to where you
could be. The most tragic suspicions came to our minds. We have spent
the evening in rushing to and fro, searching and inquiring in all
directions. Mrs. Asplin has had a shock from which, I fear, she will
be some time in recovering. Your brother’s pleasure in his visit has
been spoiled. We await your explanation. I am at a loss to imagine any
reason sufficiently good to excuse such behaviour; but I will say no
more until I have heard what you have to say.”
Peggy stood like a prisoner at the bar, with hanging head and hands
clasped together. As the Vicar spoke of his wife, she darted a look at
Mrs. Asplin, and a quiver of emotion passed over her face. When he had
finished she drew a deep breath, raised her head and looked him full in
the face with her bright, earnest eyes.
“I am sorry,” she said slowly. “I can’t tell you in words how sorry I
am. I know it will be difficult, but I hope you will forgive me. I was
thinking what I had better do while I was coming back in the train,
and I decided that I ought to tell you everything, even though it is
supposed to be a secret. Robert will forgive me, and it is Robert’s
secret as much as mine. I’ll begin at the beginning. About five weeks
ago Robert saw an advertisement of a prize that was offered by a
magazine. You had to make up a calendar with quotations for every day
in the year, and the person who sent in the best selection would get
thirty pounds. Rob wanted the money very badly to buy a microscope,
and he asked me to help him. I was to have ten pounds for myself if we
won, but I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to help Rob. I said I
would take the money, because I knew if I didn’t he would not let me
work so hard, and I thought I would spend it in buying p--p--presents
for you all at Christmas.”--Peggy’s voice faltered at this point, and
she gulped nervously several times before she could go on with her
story.--“We had to work very hard, because the time was so short.
Robert had not seen the advertisement until it had been out some
time. I printed the headings on the cards; that is why I sat so much
in my own room. The last fortnight I have been writing every morning
before six o’clock. Oh, you can’t think how difficult it was to get it
finished, but Robert was determined to go on; he thought our chance was
very good, because he had found some beautiful extracts, and translated
others, and the pages really looked pretty and dainty. The MS. had to
be in London this morning; if it missed the post last night all our
work would have been wasted, and at the very last Lady Darcy took Rob
away with her, and I was left with everything to finish. I _may_ have
slept a little bit the last two nights; I did lie down for an hour or
two, and I _may_ have had a doze, but I don’t think so! I wrote the
last word this morning after the breakfast-bell had rung, and I made
up the parcel at twelve o’clock. I thought of going out and posting
it then; of course, that is what I should have done, but”--her voice
trembled once more--“I was so tired! I thought I would give it to the
postman myself, and that would do just as well. I didn’t put it with
the letters because I was afraid someone would see the address and ask
questions, and Rob had said that I was to keep it a secret until we
knew whether we had won. I left the parcel on my table. Then Arthur
came! I was so happy--there was so much to talk about--we had tea--it
seemed like five minutes. Everyone was amazed when we found it was
time to dress, but even then I forgot all about the calendar. I only
remembered that Arthur was here, and was going to stay for four days,
and all the way upstairs I was saying to myself, ‘I’m happy, I’m happy;
oh, I _am_ happy!’ because, you know, though you are so kind, you have
so many relations belonging to you whom you love better than me, and
my own people are all far away, and sometimes I’ve been very lonely! I
thought of nothing but Arthur, and then I opened the door of my room,
and there, before my eyes, was the parcel; Rob’s parcel that he had
trusted to me--that I had solemnly promised--to post in time----”
She stopped short, and there was a gasp of interest and commiseration
among the listeners. Peggy caught it; she glanced sharply at the
Vicar’s face, saw its sternness replaced by a momentary softness, and
was quick to make the most of her opportunity. Out flew the dramatic
little hand, her eyes flashed, her voice thrilled with suppressed
excitement.
“It lay there before my eyes, and I stood and looked at it ... I
thought of nothing, but just stood and stared. I heard you all come
upstairs, and the doors shut, and Arthur’s voice laughing and talking;
but there was only one thing I could remember--I had forgotten Rob’s
parcel, and he would come back, and I should have to tell him, and see
his face! I felt as if I were paralysed, and then suddenly I seized
the parcel in my hands, and flew downstairs. I put on my cap and cloak
and went out into the garden. I didn’t know what I was going to do,
but I was going to do something! I ran on and on, through the village,
down towards the station. I knew it was too late for the post office,
but I had a sort of feeling that if I were at the station something
might be done. Just as I got there a train came in, and I heard the
porter call out ‘London express.’ I thought--no! I did not think at
all--I just ran up to a carriage and took a seat, and the door banged
and away we went. The porter came and asked for my ticket, and I had a
great deal of trouble to convince him that I had only really come from
here, and not all the way. There was an old lady in the carriage, and
she told him that it was quite true, for she had seen me come in. When
we went off again, she looked at me very hard, and said, ‘Are you in
trouble, dear?’ and I said, ‘Yes I am, but oh, please don’t talk to
me! Do please leave me alone!’ for I had begun to realise what I had
done, and that I couldn’t be back for hours and hours, and that you
would all be so anxious and unhappy. I think I was as miserable as you
were when I sent off that telegram. I posted the parcel in London, and
went and sat in the waiting-room. I had an hour and a half to wait,
and I was wretched, and nervous, and horribly hungry. I had no money
left but a few coppers, and I was afraid to spend them and have nothing
left. It seemed like a whole day, but at last the train came in, and I
saw a dear old gentleman with white hair standing on the platform. I
took a fancy to his appearance, so I walked up to him, and bowed and
said, ‘Excuse me, sir, I find myself in a dilemma! Will you allow me to
travel in the same carriage as yourself?’ He was most agreeable. He
had travelled all over the world, and talked in the most interesting
fashion, but I could not listen to his conversation. I was too unhappy.
Then we arrived, and Mr. Asplin called me ‘M--M--Mariquita!’ and
w--wouldn’t let you kiss me----”
Her voice broke helplessly this time, and she stood silent, with
quivering lip while sighs and sobs of sympathy echoed from every side.
Mrs. Asplin cast a glance at her husband, half defiant, half appealing,
met a smile of assent, and rushed impetuously to Peggy’s side.
“My darling! I’ll kiss you now. You see we knew nothing of your
trouble, dear, and we were so very, very anxious. Mr. Asplin is not
angry with you any longer, are you, Austin? You know now that she had
no intention of grieving us, and that she is truly sorry----”
“I never thought--I never thought--” sobbed Peggy; and the Vicar gave a
slow, kindly smile.
“Ah, Peggy, that is just what I complain about. You don’t think, dear,
and that causes all the trouble. No, I am not angry any longer. I
realise that the circumstances were peculiar, and that your distress
was naturally very great. At the same time, it was a most mad and
foolish thing for a girl of your age to rush off by rail, alone, and
at nighttime, to a place like London. You say that you had only a few
coppers left in your purse. Now suppose there had been no train back
to-night, what would you have done? It does not bear thinking of, my
dear, or that you should have waited alone in the station for so long,
or thrown yourself on strangers for protection. What would your parents
have said to such an escapade?”
Peggy sighed, and cast down her eyes. “I think they would have been
cross too. I am sure they would have been anxious, but I know they
would forgive me when I was sorry, and promised that I really and
truly would try to be better and more thoughtful! They would say,
‘Peggy, dear, you have been sufficiently punished! Consider yourself
absolved!...’”
The Vicar’s lips twitched, and a twinkle came into his eye. “Well,
then, I will say the same! I am sure you have regretted your hastiness
by this time, and it will be a lesson to you in the future. For
Arthur’s sake, as well as your own, we will say no more on the subject.
It would be a pity if his visit were spoiled. Just one thing, Peggy, to
show you that, after all, grown-up people are wiser than young ones,
and that it is just as well to refer to them now and then, in matters
of difficulty! Has it ever occurred to you that the mail went up to
London by the very train in which you yourself travelled, and that by
giving your parcel to the guard it could still have been put in the
bag? Did not that thought never occur to your wise little brain?”
Peggy made a gesture as of one heaping dust and ashes on her head. “I
never did,” she said, “not for a single moment! And I thought I was so
clever! I am covered with confusion!”
(_To be continued._)
* * * * *
[Illustration: WILD ROBIN AND OAK-LEAF.]
* * * * *
LINNÆA;
THE STORY OF A FRIENDSHIP.