Peggy-Alone Part 1

Peggy-Alone.

by Mary Agnes Byrne.

CHAPTER I

PEGGY-ALONE

"Down, Prince!"

High above the shrill exclamations of surprise and terror came that thin silvery command which the dog, great black fellow that he was, obeyed at once, and his flight in pursuit of those daring petticoats which had intruded on his master's orchard was brought to an ignominious end.

"Girls, say, girls, don't be frightened! He won't bite!"

One of the children had already scaled the wall, dropping her ap.r.o.n of apples on the way. She stood ready to help the second down, while the third and largest, who had kept in the rear between the smaller ones and their pursuer, waiting to see them safely over ere hastening her own steps, on hearing those friendly words paused and looked back.

Some distance away, under the apple trees on the gra.s.sy terrace, stood a little girl dressed all in white; a wreath of green ivy-vines crowded her glossy curls which fell to her waist and framed her thin face; one tiny hand was raised in a beckoning gesture and the other was placed firmly on the head of the dog.

Leading him, she approached the girl who waited in mute surprise.

"Do tell them not to go. They needn't be afraid of Prince now!"

"She says not to be afraid," hallooed the largest girl, whereupon the fugitives came back and seated themselves upon the wall overlooking the scene.

The girl with the dog had come forward. She stood looking half shyly, but with evident good-will, from the little maids on the wall to their friend who had turned after recalling the others, and came back a few steps to meet her.

"What are their names?" inquired the stranger.

"This is Ivy Bonner," the other said in a formal tone, pointing to her thinner companion, who swung her feet on the outside of the wall and, though she sat only half-facing them, seemed to see everything that went on. "And this is my sister Nettie," she continued, indicating the chubby, flaxen-haired party whose ruddy cheeks and great staring blue eyes reminded one of an over-grown doll-baby.

As each name was p.r.o.nounced its owner gave a ceremonious little bow such as is always used in make-believe introductions, and the newcomer bowed gravely to each in acknowledgment. Then she turned again to the largest girl.

"And yours?"

"I am Laura--Laura Lee."

"What's hers?" called Ivy, who felt that there was something lacking in the ceremony.

"Oh, my name's Alene Dawson," was the answer, and then, turning to Laura, she added with a somewhat rueful laugh, "but Uncle sometimes calls me Peggy-Alone."

"Why does he call you such a funny name?"

"Why, you see I'm so much by myself, now that mother and father went away and left me here with Uncle Fred. I get lonesome all by myself!"

"I should think you would!" cried Laura compa.s.sionately.

"Let's sit down," suggested Alene. They did so, side by side, on the gra.s.s, while Prince reclined lazily beside them.

"Do you live in the Big House?" inquired Laura, glancing toward a building which stood far up on the level ground overlooking the terraced hill; a substantial house whose gray stone walls and square tower were partly hid with vines. It was the most pretentious habitation in the town and occupied the most beautiful site. Laura and her friends regarded it somewhat as a fairy palace, around which they wove many fanciful romances.

"I'm a-visiting there now but when Uncle goes down town and the maids are all at work I don't know what to do with myself; and when I saw you all here among the trees I just hurried down, I was so glad to see a crowd of girls, but naughty Prince ran ahead and scared you away! What were you playing?"

"We weren't playing; we were just picking apples."

Alene looked horrified.

"You see, Mr. Dawson allows us to come in and take all we want,"

explained Laura hurriedly, while a shrill voice from the wall cried:

"We weren't _stealing_!"

"I never thought that!"

"Well, she looked as if she did," commented Ivy.

"I looked surprised because--well--to think you would eat such green apples."

This statement brought forth a ripple of amus.e.m.e.nt from the two critics and Alene with reddened cheeks turned to the girl at her side.

"Well, they are dangerous, aren't they?"

"Don't mind those kids, they giggle at 'most anything. You see we are used to eating them and they are not injurious if you eat 'em with salt," explained Laura, though not very clearly.

"She's to take the kids and the apples with a little salt!" cried Ivy.

"Just try one!"

Alene sank her teeth rather gingerly into the rounded green cheek of the proffered apple.

"It's rather sour!" she said, trying to repress a grimace but unable to keep the tears from her eyes.

Laura took from her ap.r.o.n pocket a tiny gla.s.s saltcellar and shook some of its contents lightly over the next bite which Alene heroically swallowed.

"It's not so very bad," she murmured. So intent was she on accepting Laura's intended kindness graciously that she envied the ease with which Ivy and Nettie disposed of the apples, biting off great mouthfuls and chewing them, core and all, with evident enjoyment.

Laura forgot to eat any herself, being content to watch Alene's performance and never dreaming what a task it was for her.

"Say, Laura!" came a voice in a loud, hissing tone intended for a whisper; "she's got lace on her petticoat."

"And silk stockings and slippers!"

"Hush--'tisn't polite to whisper before comp'ny," admonished Laura.

"I don't mind the little thing," said Alene in a confidential aside to Laura, regardless of the fact that the "little thing" was nearly as large as herself.

"But she acts years and years older," was Laura's inward comment. "I guess she's used to 'sociating with grown folks."

"I don't like to wear lace-trimmed things, either," continued Alene.