PEGGY AT WAR
'By this good light, a lass of matchless mettle!'
The Christmas holidays being over, and Archie in the rudest of health,
Miss Forster had no more excuse for keeping that young gentleman at
home, and after much packing and preparation, he departed to school,
amid the fond regrets of his aunt and the lamentations of his friends at
the Abbey, to whom he promised to write as often as time and the
regulations of his house would allow him.
After he had left, things seemed to jog on for some time in the same
way. Peggy was studying hard this term, for she was a clever girl, and
liked to take a high place in her class, so most of the evenings were
occupied with home-lessons, and it was only on Saturday that she had any
leisure for the many projects which Archie had begged her to continue in
his absence. Time steals on very quickly when we are fully occupied, and
winter seemed to slide into spring, and daffodils to replace the
snowdrops in the garden before they had realized the welcome change, and
Easter drew near once more, with all its delights of violets, young
lambs, and early blossom.
It seemed a long while now to the children since Aunt Helen had gone
away, and Lilian had become so accustomed to the housekeeping that it
was not nearly so much of a care. She had taken up her neglected French
books again, and struggled manfully through 'Paul et Virginie' with the
aid of a dictionary; for Peggy was getting on so fast now that Lilian
felt she would soon be left behind unless she made some effort to keep
up what she had learnt. The evening readings, too, were continued, for
Mr. Howell had suggested 'The Vicar of Wakefield' as being less solid
for a tired mind than 'The French Revolution,' lending her his own
charmingly illustrated copy; and Father had forgotten the farm and all
his other worries in a hearty laugh over Moses and the spectacles, or
Mrs. Primrose's efforts at gentility, declaring that the philosophy of
the light-hearted Vicar exactly suited his own circumstances, and
christening Lilian and Peggy 'Olivia' and 'Sophia' on the spot. Finding
that a success, Lilian followed it up by 'Pride and Prejudice,' and the
'Pickwick Papers'; for she was glad to discover anything that would wipe
away the lines from Father's forehead, if only for an hour, and distract
his thoughts from those terrible deeds and account-books which were wont
to litter the dining-room table at nights. Peggy, too, had begged to sit
up a little later to listen, and I think she learned almost as much from
the readings as from her lessons; for our English classics are an
education in themselves, and those who love them young rarely care to
read much trash afterwards.
As the days grew longer and lighter, the garden also claimed attention,
and the children were busy digging, raking, and planting, for this year
there were to be special classes in the flower-show for exhibitors under
fifteen, and both Peggy and Bobby had secret hopes of a prize. Then
there was Sky Cottage to be tidied and spring-cleaned, for Archie must
not come home at Easter to find it looking neglected, and there were
various little improvements which they wished to make in it to surprise
him on his return.
It was well that they were all so full of resources for their own
amusement, for otherwise than school they saw almost nothing of the
outside world. The temporary attraction of Aunt Helen's engagement being
over, the neighbours had lapsed again into their customary neglect of
the Abbey, and visitors or invitations were as rare as if they had been
living in the wilds of Africa. It seemed rather hard that sweet, pretty
Lilian should be so entirely overlooked, and I think that somebody--not
to say Mrs. Davenport--might have seen that she had some share in the
merry-makings which went on in many of the country houses round about;
but nobody remembered, and the shy girl herself was quite content to
remain at home, busying herself, like Dame Durden, with her household
cares. Somehow her old school friends seemed to have drifted away from
her. They were full of their own interests, and, on the few occasions
when she happened to meet them, had talked so much of new teachers, new
pupils, and class topics of which she knew nothing, that she had felt a
little 'out of it,' and had an uneasy sensation that, if she spoke of
the quiet little episodes of her daily round they would vote her
housekeeping experiences as decidedly 'slow.' Miss Forster, one of their
kindest friends, had been unwell and confined to her room nearly all the
springtime, and the children had felt her a loss; for besides the bond
with Archie, she loved young people, and had always a word of help or
sympathy for their schemes.
'I wonder what it feels like to be ill,' said Peggy one day, coming
back from the Willows, where she had been sent to inquire, after one of
Miss Forster's worst attacks. 'We're such a healthy set, we haven't any
of us been a day in bed since we had measles five years ago. I should
think it would be quite fun to send for the doctor, and be fussed over.'
'I suppose you _feel_ horrid,' replied Lilian. 'But all the same, I've
sometimes thought it must be rather nice to be an interesting invalid. I
wouldn't have minded being Margaret, for instance, in the "Daisy Chain,"
to lie on a sofa, and just look beautiful, and set a good example to all
your family, and keep on telling somebody you couldn't marry him, while
he stalked about the room with an air of profound melancholy, and said
he couldn't take to anybody else.'
'I've always thought I should like to be a foundling,' said Peggy. 'It
is so delightfully mysterious to be picked up from a wreck on the
sea-shore, or saved from a railway accident, and nobody to know who you
are, or anything about you. They always keep your beautiful
baby-clothes, and the gold locket round your neck with the portrait
inside, and then, when you're just grown up, you turn out to be the only
daughter of a duke, who has been mourning for you ever since you were
lost. Orphans, too, don't have half a bad time in books, though they
generally live with rich uncles, and have to wear the old dresses and
stop at home, while their cousins go to parties. They only look sweeter
than ever in the shabby clothes, and something nice always happens while
the others are out--like Mabel, you know, in "Sweet Seventeen." I think
it must be most romantic to be so beautiful and so despised.'
'Will you try living with the Davenports for a while?' laughed Lilian.
'You'd have plenty of chance there of being sat upon, at any rate.'
But Peggy declined with thanks, declaring the case did not apply at all,
for neither was Mrs. Davenport a rich relation nor was she herself in
the friendless condition necessary for the full requirements of fiction,
so she was afraid the round of amusements and social triumphs generally
enjoyed by the heroine would not fall to her share.
'I wish we did go out just every now and then, though,' said Peggy, who
occasionally had ambitions after gaiety. 'I haven't been anywhere except
to Miss Forster's or the Rectory since I was at the Middletons last
year. The girls were all talking about parties at school, after the
Christmas holidays, and I hadn't been to a single one, or the pantomime
either, and we never get to any of the concerts at the Spa Gardens. The
Harpers have asked me to their dance next Wednesday, but Father won't
let me go. I wish he would, just for once. It seems so hard never to do
anything like other girls, doesn't it?'
'It is so difficult, darling, to get you home. You would catch cold if
you came out of hot rooms and drove home at night in the open trap, and
it is dreadfully expensive to hire a cab from Warford. Besides, you
would want new shoes and gloves, and silk stockings, even if your
bridesmaid's dress would be smart enough. If only I had had that money
Aunt Helen sent me on my birthday, you should have gone, but I spent it
every penny on Bobby's cricket flannels, and I don't like to ask Father
for more. You see, we are trying to be so very careful just now. You and
Bobby are not learning dancing this term, and I have even given up my
music-lessons'--with a wistful sigh, for that had been a sore wrench to
poor Lilian.
'So you have, Lily mine, and never growled at all over it! I'm a horrid
little wretch, and I wouldn't have taken Aunt Helen's present, even if
you had had it left. I don't really care about parties and things. We
have ever so much fun out here at the Abbey that the girls who live in
Warford never dream of, and it wouldn't be fair to expect both. Easter
will soon be here, and Archie will come home, and then we shall all have
glorious times again!' And Peggy's momentary discontent vanished like
snow in sunshine at the enthralling prospect of several new projects
which her ingenious friend intended carrying out, and of the picnics,
woodland scrambles, and other delights which the holidays would bring in
their train.
But there was yet a month of the term to run, and the little pony-trap
must make many more journeys to and from Warford before either Pixie or
the children could take a rest, and lessons and school affairs were
still matters of the first importance.
Accustomed to a daily account of the doings of both himself and his
class-mates, Peggy began to realize about this time that all was not
well with Bobby. Instead of being full of his usual fun on the homeward
journey, he had scarcely anything to tell her. He had been late for
several days at the inn-yard, and had arrived looking so flurried and
peculiar that, although he had laughed it off and made some excuse, she
was certain that things were not as they should be. The pair had never
had any secrets before, so Peggy waited at first for Bobby to tell her,
but as the confidence did not seem to be forthcoming, she one day boldly
taxed him with it.
'Well,' said Bobby, plucking at the corners of his dog-eared Latin
grammar, 'if you really want to know, it's Jones minor. I didn't mean to
breathe a word, because I hate to be a sneak, and peach, and all that;
but after all, telling you isn't like telling any of the fellows, is
it?' anxious for his code of schoolboy honour.
'Of course it's not. What about Jones minor?'
'He bullies me so. He lies in wait for me every afternoon, and I have to
dodge ever so to get out of his way. I came round by five back streets
to-day, and climbed over a garden wall.'
'How big a boy is he?'
'Oh, he's a fellow of thirteen, I should think, for he's in the fourth
form. If he were anywhere near my own size I'd fight him, if I had to do
it every day till I licked him. I thrashed Moore last week for punching
little Barton's head.'
'What does this Jones do to you?'
'Pulls my ears, and bumps my head against the wall. He twists my arm
round, too, and hammers at it, and he keeps a buckle-strap in his pocket
specially for me, so he says. He's just generally a beast, that's what
he is!'
'I don't quite know what we can do,' said Peggy. 'If only Archie were at
home he'd soon thrash him into a jelly, and enjoy it. I suppose there's
no one else at school who would champion you?'
'No, there isn't. Never mind, Pegotty, don't you worry. I'm growing all
the time, and perhaps one day I'll be big enough to go for him, and
after all, a fellow ought to be able to stand a bit of bullying without
going whining home to his sister about it.'
'Is there much of this sort of thing going on at the Grammar School?'
asked Peggy.
'A fair amount. Not among the best end of the boys, but some of the
fellows are awful cads. They took Holmes major one day, and held him
upside down with his head in the lavatory basin till he nearly choked,
and they tied two others up as sparring-cocks to-day, and made them
fight all dinner-time. They're awfully rough on us little boys, too, at
games. We have to fag till we nearly drop sometimes. That great hulking
Taylor half kills young Ford now and then. I'm thankful he doesn't look
my way. It's only Jones minor who attends to me, and he's quite bad
enough.'
'I only just wish I could catch him at it,' said Peggy reflectively; and
there for the present the matter ended.
But a few days after this the pony-trap waited in vain, and Peggy, who
had walked leisurely three times from the inn-door to the end of the
street, grew tired of loitering about, and sallied forth to look for the
truant. It would be useless to try the highways, she knew, so
accordingly her search must be in the by-ways, and she made a little
tour of investigation round all the back streets between the inn and the
Grammar School, but without success, and she was just thinking she must
have missed him, and had better return to the inn-yard, when a fortunate
chance prompted her to turn up a retired avenue which lay between the
two main roads. It was a quiet spot, with long gardens leading to
old-fashioned houses on the one side, and the tall palings of a
cricket-field on the other--just the spot where nobody would be likely
to come along and make a disturbance, and so evidently Jones minor
seemed to think, for he held Bobby pinned against the wall with one
hand, while with the other he amused himself by tweaking his ears,
pulling his hair, and any other tortures which his ingenious mind could
suggest at the moment.
At the sight of this edifying spectacle Peggy flew on to the scene like
Diana on the war-path.
[Illustration: "IF YOU BREAK YOUR WORD, I'LL LET ALL WARFORD KNOW THAT
YOU'VE BEEN KNOCKED DOWN AND THRASHED BY A GIRL."]
'Here,' she cried indignantly, 'you Jones! Just stop that, will you?'
'Mind your own business, you--whoever you are!' cried the boy rudely.
'I'll do what I like!'
Bobby tried to dodge away, but the bully caught him by the arm, and,
partly to show off, commenced such an excruciating twist that the tears
started to his victim's eyes, though he did not utter a sound. It was
too much for Peggy. She looked carefully round to see that no one was
near, flung down her books with a bang on the pavement, and--simply went
for Jones minor.
The assault was so utterly unexpected that he rolled over like a
ninepin. Peggy might be small for her age, but she was strong and
muscular, and she had the spirit of a Coeur de Lion and the courage of
a Joan of Arc. Her method of boxing was certainly not scientific, but
she set to work to punish Jones minor according to her own ideas of
warfare. With two well-directed blows she nearly closed his eyes before
he had time even to see his assailant. She punched his head, tweaked his
ears, and hammered into the soft portions of his body until he roared
for mercy, for, like all bullies, he was a coward at heart, and had a
vague impression that some very superior force must suddenly have
descended upon him.
'Have you had enough?' said Peggy at last, with her foot on her foe's
chest, and her fist at his swollen nose.
'Yes, thanky!' faltered the snivelling Jones.
'Then swear on your honour, if you have any, that you'll never lay a
finger on my brother again. If you'll promise that faithfully, we'll
neither of us tell, but if you break your word, I'll let all Warford
know that you've been knocked down and thrashed by a girl!'
'Hooray! hooray!' cried two voices, and two tall boys in Grammar School
caps came clambering over the palings from the cricket-field, whence
they had been the delighted but unseen witnesses of the encounter.
'By Jove! you're a girl worth knowing!' said the taller boy. 'The way
you rolled him flat was the funniest sight I've seen for many a year!
Get up, Jones, you sneaking, drivelling cur!'--kicking the prostrate
form of that fallen hero. 'And if ever I catch you at any of your tricks
with Vaughan again I'll settle you myself, I promise you, though I don't
know whether I could have done it any better than this, after all!'
glancing with an eye of admiration at the victorious Peggy, who, with
split gloves, scarlet cheeks, and wild-flying curls, stood panting after
the contest.
'Golly! if you were _my_ sister, I'd be proud of you!' he continued,
while the other boy picked up her hat from the roadway, and collected
her scattered school-books. 'I like a girl with pluck, and you've got
enough for ten of 'em. I say, Vaughan, I'll try you to fag for me, if
you like. You're a good runner, I hear, and no butter-fingers. You can
begin to-morrow.'
'And _he_ is the Captain of the school eleven!' said Bobby afterwards,
who would have felt it scarcely so great an honour to be noticed by the
Prince of Wales. 'There isn't a boy in my class who isn't yearning to be
Farrar's fag. They'll be just wild with envy! Peggy, you're about the
biggest trump on the face of the earth, and I'll never forget this day
if I live to be a hundred!'
Jones minor found he also had good reason to remember the occasion, for
as Farrar and Henderson felt no obligation to observe secrecy, his life
at Warford Grammar School was for some time a burden to him. Constant
references as to his fondness for female society, offers to see him home
to protect him on the way, tender inquiries as to the state of his eyes
and the condition of his ears, filled him with confusion, while large
portraits of Jones in the clutches of an imaginary Amazon, executed with
schoolboy talent and vigour, adorned the walls of the playground and the
palings of the cricket-field.
Peggy's onslaught really seemed to have done some good in the school,
for the attention of the older and better boys being called to the
subject of bullying, a stand was made, and public opinion ran high
against it, so that for a time, at any rate, the little boys had peace,
and Bobby was able to return daily by the ordinary high-road, instead of
seeking the shelter of side-paths and back alleys.
Bobby's letter to Archie on the subject of the encounter, though hardly
a model of orthography, was as stirring as the ballad of Chevy Chase.
'She lade the villin flat on the erth, and I just wish you cud have seen
her punch his hed,' he wrote. 'She nocked him about like a pottatoe.
Peggy is awful strong wen her blud is up, and she sez she wuld do it
agen to save my Life. Jones minor stopt at home two days arfter. He
cudunt stand the jeers of the other boys, and they still give it him
badly. Farrar is jolly good to me now. I like fagging for him better
than enything. Peggy won't tork about wot she has done at all. She sez
she is rather ashamed of it now, and that you wuld think her a bigger
tomboy than ever; but all the boys at skule call her a brick, and so do
I, and if she comes to see the bote race at Easter they mean to chear
her.'
Archie wrote back at once to congratulate the heroine, and Peggy
treasured the letter for days, until the new pet lamb accidentally
chewed it up. It ran thus:
'MY DEAR PEGGY,
'I think it was just elegant of you, and I won't call you
t..b.y any more if you don't like it. Instead I will christen
you Ta-ka-pun-ka, which in the language of the Chincowawas means
"Girl-afraid-of-nothing," for you are as good as one of our
Indian braves. I only wish you had taken his scalp, but I
suppose you hadn't time. When I come back at Easter I will teach
you to box, and then you will be ready for anybody, only please
don't tackle me. I shall have to be careful how I quarrel with
you now. If I am home in time for the boat-race I shall come and
cheer, too. I am longing to get back to Gorswen. Bobby never
said if the water-wheel was all right. I hope no one has touched
it while I have been away. Why don't you write and tell me about
it, and about Sky Cottage, too? I shall have heaps of school
news for you when I come home, and I have thought of several
fresh things we can make; but I shan't tell you what they are
till I see you, so curb your curiosity until the holidays.
'Hoping Prickles, and the rabbits, and all the other pets are
well,
'Your affectionate friend,
'ARCHIE FORSTER.'