Peg O' My Heart Part 48

"Oh, but I'm not a bit tired," e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed Peg anxiously. "I'm not tired at all, and I'd much rather have lunch down here with Mr. Jerry."

The whole family were aghast.

Ethel looked indignantly at Peg.

Mrs. Chichester e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed: "What?"

Alaric, almost struck dumb, fell back upon: "Well, I mean to say!"

"And you SHALL go in with Mr. Jerry," said that young gentleman, slipping Peg's arm through his own. Turning to Mrs. Chichester he asked her: "With your permission we will lead the way. Come--Peg," and he led her to the door and opened it.

Peg looked up at him, a roguish light dancing in her big expressive eyes.

"Thanks. I'm not so sure about that wager of yours. I think yer life is safe. I want to tell ye ye've saved mine." She put one hand gently on her little stomach and cried: "I am so hungry me soul is hangin' by a thread."

Laughing gaily, the two new-found friends went in search of the dining-room.

The Chichester family looked at each other.

It seemed that the fatal first day of June was to be a day of shocks.

"Disgraceful!" ventured Ethel.

"Awful!" said the stunned Alaric.

"She must be taken in hand and at once!" came in firm tones from Mrs.

Chichester. "She must never be left alone again. Come quickly before she can disgrace us any further to-day."

The unfortunate family, following in the wake of Peg and Jerry, found them in the dining-room chattering together like old friends. He was endeavouring to persuade Peg to try an olive. She yielded just as the family arrived. She withdrew the olive in great haste and turning to Jerry said: "Faith, there's nothin' good about it but it's colour!" In a few moments she sat down to the first formal meal is the bosom of the Chichester family.

CHAPTER VII

THE Pa.s.sING OF THE FIRST MONTH

The days that followed were never-to-be-forgotten ones for Peg. Her nature was in continual revolt. The teaching of her whole lifetime she was told to correct. Everything she SAID, everything she LOOKED, everything she DID was wrong.

Tutors were engaged to prepare her for the position she might one day enjoy through her dead uncle's will. They did not remain long. She showed either marked incapacity to acquire the slightest veneer of culture--else it was pure wilfulness.

The only gleams of relief she had were on the occasions when Jerry visited the family. Whenever they could avoid Mrs. Chichester's watchful eyes they would chat and laugh and play like children. She could not understand him--he was always discovering new traits in her.

They became great friends.

Her letters to her father were, at first, very bitter, regarding her treatment by the family. Indeed so resentful did they become that her father wrote to her in reply urging her, if she was so unhappy, to at once return to him on the next steamer. But she did NOT. Little by little the letters softened. Occasionally, toward the end of that first month they seemed almost contented. Her father marvelled at the cause.

The month she had promised to stay was drawing to an end. But one more day remained. It was to be a memorable one for Peg.

Jerry had endeavoured at various times to encourage her to study. He would question her, and chide her and try to stimulate her. One day he gave her a large, handsomely-bound volume and asked her to read it at odd times and he would examine her in it when she had mastered its contents. She opened it wonderingly and found it to be "Love Stories of the World."

It became Peg's treasure. She kept it hidden from every one in the house. She made a cover for it out of a piece of cloth so that no one could see the ornate binding. She would read it at night in her room, by day out in the fields or by the sea. But her favourite time and place was in the living-room, every evening after dinner. She would surround herself with books--a geography, a history of England, a huge atlas, a treatise on simple arithmetic and put the great book in the centre; making of it an island--the fount of knowledge. Then she would devour it intently until some one disturbed her. The moment she heard anyone coming she would cover it up quickly with the other books and pretend to be studying.

The book was a revelation to her. It gave all her imagination full play. Through its pages treaded a stately procession of Kings and Queens--Wagnerian heroes and heroines: Shakespearian creations, melodious in verse; and countless others. It was indeed a treasure-house. It took her back to the lives and loves of the ill.u.s.trious and pa.s.sionate dead, and it brought her for the first time to the great fount of poetry and genius.

Life began to take on a different aspect to her.

All her rebellious spirit would soften under the spell of her imagination; and again all her dauntless spirit would a.s.sert itself under the petty humiliations the Chichester family frequently inflicted upon her.

Next to Mrs. Chichester she saw Alaric the most.

Although she could not actively dislike the little man her first feeling of amus.e.m.e.nt wore off. He simply bored her now. He was no longer funny. He seemed of so little account in the world.

She saw but little of Ethel. They hardly spoke when they met.

All through the month Christian Brent was a frequent visitor.

If Peg only despised the Chichesters she positively loathed Brent, and with a loathing she took no pains to conceal.

On his part, Brent would openly and covertly show his admiration for her. Peg was waiting for a really good chance to find out Mr. Brent's real character. The opportunity came.

On the night of the last day of the trial-month, Peg was in her favourite position, lying face downward on a sofa, reading her treasure, when she became conscious of dome one being in the room watching her. She started up in a panic instinctively hiding the book behind her. She found Brent staring down at her in open admiration.

Something in the intentness of his gaze caused her to spring to her feet. He smiled a sickly smile.

"The book must be absorbing. What is it?" he asked.

Peg faced him, the book clasped in both of her hands behind her back; her eyes flas.h.i.+ng and her heart throbbing. Brent looked at her with marked appreciation. "You mustn't be angry, child. What is it? Eh?

Something forbidden?" and he leered knowingly at her. Then he made a quick s.n.a.t.c.h at the book, saying:

"Show it me!"

Peg ran across the room and turning up a corner of the carpet, put the book under it, turned back the carpet, put her foot determinedly on it and turned again to face her tormentor.

Brent went rapidly across to her. The instinct of the chase was quick in his blood.

"A hiding-place, eh? NOW you make me really curious. Let me see." He again made a movement toward the hidden book.

Peg clenched both of her hands into little fists and glared at Brent, while her breath came in quick, sharp gasps. She was prepared to defend the ident.i.ty of the book at any cost.

"I love spirit!" cried Brent.

Then he looked at her charming dress; at her stylish coiffure; at the simple spray of flowers at her breast. He gave an e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of pleasure.

"What a wonderful change in a month. You most certainly would not be sent to the kitchen now. Do you know you have grown into a most attractive young lady? You are really delightful angry. And you are angry, aren't you? And with me, eh? I'm so sorry if I've offended you.

Let us kiss and be friends." He made an impulsive movement toward her and tried to take her in his arms. Peg gave him a resounding box on the ear. With a m.u.f.fled e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n of anger and of pain he attempted to seize her by the wrists, when the door opened and Ethel came into the room.

Peg, panting with fury, glared at them both for a moment and then hurried out through the windows.