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 microscopes 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 ladylike
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 Berkhampton 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, Rob;
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 shan'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 Fraulein 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
finish 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 loathe 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--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.
CHAPTER TWENTY.
AT THE LARCHES.
The next morning, immediately after breakfast, Peggy went up to her own
room to pack for her visit to the Larches. The long dress-box, which
had been stored away ever since its arrival, was brought out, and its
contents displayed to an admiring audience, consisting of Mrs Asplin,
Esther, Mellicent, and Mary the housemaid.
Everything was there that the heart of girl could desire, and a mother's
forethought provide for her darling's use when she was far-away. A
dress of cobweb Indian muslin embroidered in silk, a fan of curling
feathers, a dear little satin pocket in which to keep the lace
handkerchief, rolls of ribbons, dainty white shoes, with straggly silk
stockings rolled into the toes.
Peggy displayed one article after another, while Mellicent groaned and
gurgled with delight; Mary exclaimed, "My, Miss Peggy, but you will be
smart!" and Mrs Asplin stifled a sigh at the thought of her own
inferior preparations.
Punctually at ten o'clock the carriage drove up to the door, and off
Peggy drove, not altogether unwillingly, now that it had come to the
pinch, for after all it _is_ pleasant to be appreciated, and, when a
great excitement is taking place in the neighbourhood, it is only human
to wish to be in the thick of the fray.
Lady Darcy welcomed her guest with gracious kindness, and, as soon as
she had taken off her hat and jacket in the dressing-room which was
allotted to her use, she was taken straight away to the chief room,
where the work of decoration was being carried briskly forward. The
village joiner was fitting mirrors into the corners and hammering with
deafening persistence, a couple of gardeners were arranging banks of
flowers and palms, and Rosalind stood in the midst of a bower of
greenery, covered from head to foot in a smock of blue linen, and with a
pair of gardening gloves drawn over her hands.
She gave a little cry of relief and satisfaction as Peggy entered.
"Oh, Mawiquita, so glad you have come! Mother is so busy that she can't
be with me at all, and these wretched bwanches pwick my fingers! Do
look wound, and say how it looks! This is weally the servants' hall,
you know, as we have not a pwoper ballroom, and it is so square and high
that it is perfectly dweadful to decowate! A long, narrow woom is so
much better!"
Peggy thought the arrangements tasteful and pretty; but she could not
gush over the effect, which, in truth, was in no way original or
striking. There seemed little to be done in the room itself, so she
suggested an adjournment into the outer hall, which seemed to offer
unique opportunities.
"That space underneath the staircase!" she cried eagerly. "Oh,
Rosalind, we could make it look perfectly sweet with all the beautiful
Eastern things that you have brought home from your travels! Let us
make a little harem, with cushions to sit on, and hanging lamps, and
Oriental curtains for drapery. We could do it while the men are
finishing this room, and be ready to come back to it after lunch."
"Oh, what a sweet idea! Mawiquita, you are quite too clever!" cried
Rosalind, aglow with pleasure. "Let us begin at once. It will be ever
so much more intewesting than hanging about here."
She thrust her hand through Peggy's arm as she spoke, and the two girls
went off on a tour through the house to select the most suitable
articles for their decoration of the "harem." There was no lack of
choice, for the long suite of reception-rooms was full of treasures, and
Peggy stopped every few minutes to point with a small forefinger and
say, "That screen, please! That table! That stool!" to the servants
who had been summoned in attendance. The smaller things, such as
ornaments, table-cloths, and lamps she carried herself, while Rosalind
murmured sweetly, "Oh, don't twouble! You mustn't, weally! Let me help
you!" and stood with her arms hanging by her side, without showing the
faintest sign of giving the offered help.
As the morning passed away, Peggy found indeed that the Honourable Miss
Darcy was a broken reed to lean upon in the way of assistance. She sat
on a stool and looked on while the other workers hammered and pinned and
stitched--so that Peggy's prophecy as to her own subordinate position
was exactly reversed, and the work of supervision was given entirely
into her hands.
It took nearly two hours to complete the decorations of the "harem," but
when all was finished the big ugly space beneath the staircase was
transformed into as charming a nook as it is possible to imagine.
Pieces of brilliant flag embroidery from Cairo draped the farther wall,
a screen of carved work shut out the end of the passage, gauzy curtains
of gold and blue depended in festoons from the ascending staircase, and
stopped just in time to leave a safe place for a hanging lamp of wrought
iron and richly coloured glass. On the floor were spread valuable rugs
and piles of bright silken cushions, while on an inlaid table stood a
real Turkish hookah and a brass tray with the little egg-shaped cups out
of which travellers in the East are accustomed to sip the strong black
coffee of the natives.
Peggy lifted the ends of her apron in her hands and executed a dance of
triumph on her own account when all was finished, and Rosalind said,
"Weally, we have been clever! I think we may be proud of ourselves!" in
amiable effusion.
The two girls went off to luncheon in a state of halcyon amiability
which was new indeed in the history of their acquaintance, and Lady
Darcy listened with an amused smile to their rhapsodies on the subject
of the morning's work, promising faithfully not to look at anything
until the right moment should arrive, and she should be summoned to gaze
and admire.
By the time that the workers were ready to return to the room, the men
had finished the arrangements at which they had been at work before
lunch, and were beginning to tack festoons of evergreens along the
walls, the dull paper of which had been covered with fluting of soft
pink muslin. The effect was heavy and clumsy in the extreme, and
Rosalind stamped her foot with an outburst of fretful anger.
"Stop putting up those wreaths! Stop at once! They are simply hideous!
It weminds me of a penny weading in the village schoolwoom! You might
as well put up `God save the Queen' and `A Mewwy Chwistmas' at once!
Take them down this minute, Jackson! I won't have them!"
The man touched his forehead, and began pulling out the nails in
half-hearted fashion.
"Very well, miss, as you wish. Seems a pity, though, not to use 'em,
for it took me all yesterday to put 'em together. It's a sin to throw
'em away."
"I won't have them in the house, if they took you a week!" Rosalind
replied sharply, and she turned on her heel and looked appealingly in
Peggy's face. "It's a howwid failure! The woom looks so stiff and
stwaight--like a pink box with nothing in it! Mother won't like it a
bit. What can we do to make it better?"
Peggy scowled, pursed up her lips, pressed her hand to her forehead, and
strode up and down the room, rolling her eyes from side to side, and
going through all the grimaces of one in search of inspiration.
Rosalind was right: unless some device were found by which the shape of
the room could be disguised, the decorations must be pronounced more or
less a failure. She craned her head to the ceiling, and suddenly beamed
in triumph.
"I have it! The very thing! We will fasten the garlands to that middle
beam, and loop up the ends at intervals all round the walls. That will
break the squareness, and make the room look like a tent, with a ceiling
of flowers."
"Ah-h!" cried Rosalind; and clasped her hands with a gesture of relief.
"Of course! The vewy thing! We ought to have thought of it at the
beginning. Get the ladder at once, Jackson, and put in a hook or wing,
or something to hold the ends; and be sure that it is strong enough.
What a good thing that the weaths are weady! You see, your work will
not be wasted after all."
She was quite gracious in her satisfaction, and for the next two hours
she and Peggy were busily occupied superintending the hanging of the
evergreen wreaths and in arranging bunches of flowers to be placed at
each point where the wreaths were fastened to the wall. At the end of
this time, Rosalind was summoned to welcome the distinguished visitors
who had arrived by the afternoon train. She invited Peggy to accompany
her to the drawing-room, but in a hesitating fashion, and with a glance
round the disordered room, which said, as plainly as words could do,
that she would be disappointed if the invitation were accepted; and
Peggy, transformed in a moment into a poker of pride and dignity,
declared that she would prefer to remain where she was until all was
finished.
"Well, it weally would be better, wouldn't it? I will have a tway sent
in to you here, and do, Mawiquita, see that evewything is swept up and
made tidy at once, for I shall bring them in to look wound diwectly
after tea, and we must have the wooms tidy!"
Rosalind tripped away, and Peggy was left to herself for a lonely and
troublesome hour. The tea-tray was brought in, and she was just seating
herself before an impromptu table, when up came a gardener to say that
one of "these 'ere wreaths seemed to hang uncommon near the gas-bracket.
It didn't seem safe like." And off she went in a panic of
consternation to see what could be done. There was nothing for it but
to move the wreath some inches farther away, which involved moving the
next also, and the next, and the next, so as to equalise the distances
as much as possible; and by the time that they were settled to Peggy's
satisfaction, lo, table and tray had been whisked out of sight by some
busy pair of hands, and only a bare space met her eyes. This was blow
number one, for, after working hard all afternoon, tea and cake come as
a refreshment which one would not readily miss. She cheered herself,
however, by putting dainty finishing touches here and there, seeing that
the lamp was lighted in the "harem" outside, and was busy placing fairy
lamps among the shrubs which were to screen the band, when a babel of
voices from outside warned her that the visitors were approaching.
Footsteps came nearer and nearer, and a chorus of exclamations greeted
the sight of the "harem." The door stood open, Peggy waited for
Rosalind's voice to call and bid her share the honours, but no summons
came. She heard Lady Darcy's exclamation, and the quick, strong tones
of the strange countess.
"Charming, charming; quite a stroke of genius! I never saw a more
artistic little nook. What made you think of it, my dear?"
"Ha!" said Peggy to herself, and took a step forward, only to draw back
in dismay, as a light laugh reached her ear, followed by Rosalind's
careless--
"Oh, I don't know; I wanted to make it pwetty, don't you know; it was so
dweadfully bare, and there seemed no other way."
Then there was a rustle of silk skirts, and the two ladies entered the
room, followed by their respective daughters, Rosalind beautiful and
radiant, and the Ladies Berkhampton with their chins poked forward, and
their elbows thrust out in ungainly fashion. They paused on the
threshold, and every eye travelled up to the wreath-decked ceiling. A
flush of pleasure came into Lady Darcy's pale cheeks, and she listened
to the countess's compliments with sparkling eyes.
"It is all the work of this clever child," she said, laying her hand
fondly on Rosalind's shoulder. "I have had practically nothing to do
with the decorations. This is the first time I have been in the room
to-day, and I had no idea that the garlands were to be used in this way.
I thought they were for the walls."
"I congratulate you, Rosalind! You are certainly very happy in your
arrangements," said the countess cordially. Then she put up her
eyeglass and stared inquiringly at Peggy, who stood by with her hair
fastened back in its usual pigtail, and a big white apron pinned over
her dress.
"She thinks I am the kitchen-maid!" said Peggy savagely to herself; but
there was little fear of such a mistake, and, the moment that Lady Darcy
noticed the girl's presence, she introduced her kindly enough, if with
somewhat of a condescending air.
"This is a little friend of Rosalind's who has come up to help. She is
fond of this sort of work," she said; then, before any of the strangers
had time to acknowledge the introduction, she added hastily, "And now I
am sure you must all be tired after your journey, and will be glad to go
to your rooms and rest. It is quite wicked of me to keep you standing.
Let me take you upstairs at once!"
They sailed away with the same rustle of garments, the same babel of
high-toned voices, and Peggy stood alone in the middle of the deserted
room. No one had asked her to rest, or suggested that she might be
tired; she had been overlooked and forgotten in the presence of the
distinguished visitor. She was only a little girl who was "fond" of
this sort of work, and, it might be supposed, was only too thankful to
be allowed to help! The house sank into silence. She waited for half
an hour longer, in the hope that someone would remember her presence,
and then, tired, hungry, and burning with repressed anger, crept
upstairs to her own little room and fell asleep upon the couch.
CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.
ANOTHER ACCIDENT!
Dinner was served unusually early that evening, and was an embarrassing
ordeal from which Peggy was thankful to escape.
On her way upstairs, however, Rosalind called her back with an eager
petition.
"Oh, Peggy! would you mind awwanging some flowers? A big hamper has
just awwived from town, and the servants are all so dweadfully busy. I
must get dwessed in time to help mother to weceive, but it wouldn't
matter if you were a few minutes late. Thanks so much! Awfully
obliged."