A fortnight later Peggy Saville arrived at the vicarage. Her mother
brought her, stayed for a couple of hours, and then left for the time
being, but as she was to pay some visits in the neighbourhood it was
understood that this was not the final parting, and that she would
spend several afternoons with her daughter before sailing for India. On
this occasion, however, none of the young people saw her, for they were
out during the afternoon, and were just settling down to tea in the
schoolroom when the wheels of the departing carriage crunched down the
drive.
"Now for it!" cried Maxwell, and they looked at one another in
silence, knowing full well what would happen next. Mrs. Asplin would
think an introduction to her young friends the best distraction for
the strange girl, after her mother's departure, and the next item in
the programme would be the appearance of Miss Peggy herself. Esther
rearranged the scattered tea-things; Oswald felt to see if his necktie
was in position, and Robert hunched his shoulders and rolled his eyes
at Mellicent in distracting fashion. Each one sat with head cocked on
one side, in an attitude of eager attention. The front door banged,
footsteps approached, and Mrs. Asplin's high, cheerful tones were heard
drawing nearer and nearer.
"This way, dear," she was saying. "They are longing to see you."
The listeners gave a simultaneous gulp of excitement, the door opened,
and--Peggy entered!
She was not in the least what they had expected. This was neither
the fair, blonde beauty of Maxwell's foretelling, nor the small,
black-haired elf described by Mellicent. The first glance was
unmitigated disappointment.
"She is not a bit pretty," was the mental comment of the two girls.
"What a funny little soul!" that of the three big boys, who had risen
on Mrs. Asplin's entrance, and now stood staring at the newcomer with
curious, bashful eyes.
Peggy was slight and pale, and at the first sight her face gave a
comical impression of being made up of a succession of peaks. Her
hair hung in a pigtail down her back, and grew in a deep point on
her forehead; her finely marked eyebrows were shaped like eaves, and
her chin was for all the world like that of a playful kitten. Even
the velvet trimming on her dress accentuated this peculiarity, as
it zigzagged round the sleeves and neck. The hazel eyes were light
and bright, and flitted from one figure to another with a suspicious
trinkling, but nothing could have been more composed, more demure, or
patronisingly grown up than the manner in which this strange girl stood
the scrutiny which was bent upon her.
"Here are your new friends, Peggy," cried Mrs. Asplin cheerily.
"They always have tea by themselves in the schoolroom, and do what
they please from four to five o'clock. Now just sit down, dear, and
take your place among them at once. Esther will make room for you by
her side, and introduce you to the others. I will leave you to make
friends; I know young people get on better when they are left alone."
She whisked out of the room in her impetuous fashion, and Peggy
Saville seated herself in the midst of a ghastly silence. The young
people had been prepared to cheer and encourage a bashful stranger,
but the self-possession of this thin, pale-faced girl took them all
by surprise, so that they sat round the table playing uncomfortably
with teaspoons and knives, and irritably conscious that they, and not
the newcomer, were the ones to be overcome with confusion. The silence
lasted for a good two minutes, and was broken at last by Miss Peggy
herself.
"Cream _and_ sugar!" she said, in a tone of sweet insinuation. "Two
lumps, if you please. Not very strong, and as hot as possible. Thank
you! So sorry to be a trouble."
Esther fairly jumped with surprise, and seizing the teapot, filled the
empty cup in hot haste. Then she remembered the dreaded airs of the
boarding-school miss, and her own vows of independence, and made a
gallant effort to regain her composure.
"No trouble at all. I hope that will be right. Please help yourself.
Bread-and-butter--scones--cake! I must introduce you to the rest, and
then you will feel more at home! I am Esther, the eldest, a year older
than you, I think. This is Mellicent, my younger sister, fourteen last
February. I think you are about the same age." She paused a moment, and
Peggy looked across the table and said, "How do you do, dear?" in an
affable, grandmotherly fashion, which left poor Mellicent speechless,
and filled the others with delighted amusement. But their own turn was
coming. Esther pulled herself together and went on steadily with her
introductions. "This is Maxwell, my brother, and these are father's
two pupils--Oswald Elliston, and Robert--the Honourable Robert Darcy."
She was not without hope that the imposing sound of the latter name
would shake the self-possession of the stranger, but Peggy inclined her
head with the air of a queen, drawled out a languid "Pleased to see
you," and dropped her eyes with an air of indifference, which seemed to
imply that an "Honourable" was an object of no interest whatever, and
that she was really bored by the number of her titled acquaintances.
The boys looked at each other with furtive glances of astonishment.
Mellicent spread jam all over her plate, and Esther unconsciously
turned on the handle of the urn and deluged the tray with water, but no
one ventured a second remark, and once again it was Peggy's voice that
opened the conversation.
"And is this the room in which you pursue your avocations? It has a
warm and cheerful exposure."
"Er--yes! This is the schoolroom. Mellicent and I have lessons here
in the morning from our German governess, while the boys are in the
study with father. In the afternoon, from two to four, they use it
for preparation, and we go out to classes. We have music lessons on
Monday, painting on Tuesday, calisthenics and wood-carving on Thursday
and Friday. Wednesday and Saturday are half-holidays. Then from four
to six the room is common property, and we have tea together and amuse
ourselves as we choose."
"A most desirable arrangement. Thank you! Yes, I will take a scone,
as you are so very kind," said Peggy sweetly, a remark which covered
the five young people with confusion, since none of them had noticed
that her plate was empty. Each one made a grab in the direction of the
plate of scones; the girls failed to reach it, and Oswald, twitching it
from Robert's hands, jerked half the contents on the table, and had to
pick them up, while Miss Saville looked on with a smile of indulgent
superiority.
"Accidents will happen, will they not?" she said sweetly, as she lifted
a scone from the plate, with her little finger cocked well in the
air, and nibbled it daintily between her small, white teeth. "A most
delicious cake! Home-made, I presume? Perhaps of your own concoction?"
Esther muttered an inarticulate assent, and once more the conversation
languished. She looked appealingly at Maxwell. As the son of the house,
the eldest of the boys, it was his place to take the lead, but Maxwell
looked the picture of awkward embarrassment. He did not suffer from
bashfulness as a rule, but since Peggy Saville had come into the room
he had been seized with an appalling self-consciousness. His feet felt
in the way, his arms seemed too long for practical purposes, his elbows
had a way of invading other people's precincts, and his hands looked
red and clammy. It occurred to him dimly that he was not a man after
all, but only a big, overgrown schoolboy, and that little Miss Saville
knew as much, and was mildly pitiful of his shortcomings. He was not at
all anxious to attract the attention of the sharp little tongue, so he
passed on the signal to Mellicent, kicking her foot under the table,
and frowning vigorously in the direction of the stranger.
"Er," began Mellicent, amicably anxious to respond to the signal, but
lamentably short of ideas, "Er, Peggy! Are you fond of sums? I'm in
decimals. Do you like fractions? I think they are hateful. I could do
vulgars pretty well, but decimals are fearful. They never come right.
So awfully difficult."
"Patience and perseverance overcome all difficulties. Keep up your
courage; I'll help you with them, dear," said Peggy encouragingly,
closing her eyes the while, and coughing in a faint and ladylike manner.
She could not really be only fourteen, Mellicent reflected. She talked
as if she were quite grown up--older than Esther, seventeen or eighteen
at the very least. What a little white face she had; what a great,
thick plait of hair. How erect she held herself. Fraulein would never
have to rebuke her new pupil for stooping shoulders. It was kind of
her to promise help with those troublesome decimals! Quite too good an
offer to refuse.
"Thank you very much," she said heartily, "I'll show you some after
tea. Perhaps you may be able to make me understand better than
Fraulein. It's very good of you, P----" A quick change of expression
warned her that something was wrong, and she checked herself to add
hastily, "You want to be called 'Peggy,' don't you? No? Then what must
we call you? What is your real name?"
"Mariquita!" sighed the damsel pensively, "after my
grandmother--Spanish. A beautiful and unscrupulous woman at the court
of Philip the Second." She said "unscrupulous" with an air of pride, as
though it had been "virtuous," or some other word of a similar meaning,
and pronounced the name of the king with a confidence that made Robert
gasp.
"Philip the Second? Surely not? He was the husband of our Mary--1572.
That would make it just a trifle too far back for your grandmother,
wouldn't it?" he inquired sceptically, but Mariquita remained
absolutely unperturbed.
"It must have been someone else then, I suppose. How clever of you to
remember! I see you know something about history," she said suavely, a
remark which caused an amused glance to pass between the young people,
for Robert had a craze for history of all description, and had serious
thought of becoming a second Carlyle so soon as his college course was
over.
Maxwell put his handkerchief to his mouth to stifle a laugh, and kicked
out vigorously beneath the table, with the intention of sharing his
amusement with his friend Oswald. It seemed, however, that he had aimed
amiss, for Mariquita fell back in her chair, and laid her hand on her
heart.
"I think there must be some slight misunderstanding. That's my foot
that you are kicking. I cut it very badly on the ice last winter, and
the least touch causes acute suffering. Please don't apologise; it
doesn't matter in the least," and she rolled her eyes to the ceiling
like one in mortal agony.
It was the last straw. Maxwell's embarrassment had reached such a pitch
that he could bear no more. He murmured some unintelligible words and
bolted from the room, and the other two boys lost no time in following
his example.
In subsequent conversations, Mellicent always referred to this occasion
as "the night when Robert had one cup," it being, in truth, the only
occasion since this young gentleman entered the vicarage when he had
neglected to patronise the teapot three or four times in succession.
(_To be continued._)
SOME PRACTICAL HINTS ON COSMETIC MEDICINE.
BY "THE NEW DOCTOR."