About Peggy Saville Part 13

"Doing!" Peggy straightened herself at that, in offended dignity.

"Doing, indeed! What do you mean? Don't you think I am pretty as a rule?"

"Never thought about it," returned Robert carelessly. "You are Peggy-- that's enough for me. A nice state I should be in to-day if it were not for you! You are the jolliest little brick I ever met, and if I get this prize it will be far more your doing than my own."

Well, that was good hearing! Peggy held her head high for the rest of that evening, and felt as if nothing would have power to depress her for the future. But, alas, when the pendulum is at its highest it begins to swing downwards. Peggy's heart sank as she watched Robert drive away from the door the next morning, and it went on sinking more and more during the next twenty-four hours, as she realised the responsibility which weighed upon her shoulders. When she came down to breakfast on Friday morning the calendar was finished and ready to be made up for the post, but her head was splitting with pain as the result of the long hours' work stolen from sleep, and a dead weight of depression had settled on her spirits. It seemed of a sudden that all this work and effort was waste of time; that the chances of being successful were infinitesimally small; that even if it were gained, the prize was of little value; that if Robert's absence for four days made such a difference in the life at the vicarage, it would become altogether unbearable when he said good-bye at the beginning of the year and went up to Oxford; that she was a desperately unfortunate little unit, thrust into the midst of a family which was complete in itself, and had only a kindly toleration to offer to a stranger; that, in all probability, there would shortly be a war in India, when her father would be killed, her mother die of a broken heart, and Arthur be called out to join the ranks of the recruits. She conjured up a touching picture of herself, swathed in c.r.a.pe, bidding good-bye to her brother at the railway station, and watching the scarlet coat disappear in the distance, as the train steamed away. It was all most miserable and picturesque, and outside the fog gathered, and the rain poured down in a fine, persistent drizzle. It was one of those typical November days when it seems as if the earth itself is in the blues, and that it becomes everyone living on its surface to follow its example.

When afternoon came Peggy curled herself in an arm-chair in the corner of the study, and stared gloomily at the fire. It was four o'clock. In another hour the postman would call for the letters, and she would deliver the precious packet into his hands. She had made it up in the dinner-hour, with some faint idea of carrying it to the village; but she was tired, the rain poured, and Rob had said that the afternoon post would do. She had given up the idea of going out, and taken a nap instead on the top of her bed. And now it was four o'clock. Mellicent called out that she was dying for tea-time to come; it had seemed such a long, long day; they really ought to have tea earlier on these dreary, murky afternoons. "_I want my tea_!" she chanted, in shrill, penetrating tones, and instantly the refrain was taken up by the other voices, and repeated over and over again with ever-increasing volume, until the mistress of the house rushed in to discover the reason of the clamour.

"Bless your hearts, you shall have it at once!" she cried. "I'll ring and have it brought in, and ransack my cupboards to see what treats I can give you. Poor dears, it _is_ dull for you sitting indoors all day long. We must think of some bright, exciting games for this evening."

No sooner said than done; she did not wait until Mary appeared, but bustled off to meet her, to enlist the cook's sympathy, and put out the promised delicacies, and when the table was set she returned to the room and seated herself, smilingly, in Esther's place.

"I am going to stay with you this afternoon," she said brightly. "Draw up your chairs, dears, and let us be jovial. There is no credit in being happy when the sun is s.h.i.+ning, as dear old Mark Tapley would have said; but it will really be praiseworthy if we succeed in being festive this afternoon. Come, Peggy, dearie!"

Peggy turned her dreary little face and stared at the table. From outside came the sound of the opening and shutting of the door, of footsteps in the hall. She glanced at the clock, wondering if it could possibly be the postman already, found it was only ten minutes past four, and dismissed the supposition with a sigh. "I don't--think--I want--" she was beginning slowly, when, of a sudden, there came a tremendous rat-tat-tat on the schoolroom door; the handle was not turned, but burst open; a blast of chilly air blew into the room, and in the doorway stood a tall, handsome youth, with square shoulders, a gracefully poised head, and Peggy Saville's eave-like brows above his dancing eyes.

"Oh, what a surprise!" came the cry in loud laughing tones. "How do you do, everybody? Just thought I would step in as I was pa.s.sing, and have a cup of tea, don't you know."

"My boy! My boy! Oh, how good to see you!" cried Mrs Asplin rapturously. Mellicent gurgled with surprise, and Peggy stood up by her chair and stretched out both arms like a child to its mother.

"Arthur!--oh--Arthur!" she gasped, and there was a pathos, a longing, an almost incredulous rapture in her voice which made the tears start in Mrs Asplin's eyes, and brought a cloud of anxiety over the new-comer's face.

"Why, Peg!" he cried. "My little Peg! Is something wrong, dear? You look as melancholy as--"

"Peggy has not been like herself for the last few weeks. I think she has had an attack of homesickness and longing for her own people. I'm so glad you've come. You will do her more good than a dozen tonics.

Bless the boy; how big he is! And how did you manage to get away, dear, and how long can you stay? Tell me all about it. I am consumed with curiosity--"

"I can stay till Monday or Tuesday, if you can put me up; and I came away because I--I suppose I am not quite up to the mark. My head bothers me. It aches, and I see black specks floating before my eyes.

The doctor advised me to knock off for a few days, and I thought I would rather come here than anywhere."

"I should think so, indeed. Of course we can put you up--proud and pleased to do so. Well, this is a pleasant surprise for a dull November day! You couldn't have had a better one if you had had a hundred wishes, could you, Peggy? You won't feel melancholy any longer?"

"I'm just enraptured! Sat.u.r.day, Sunday, Monday--three whole days and two halves, as good as four days--almost a week! It's too delicious-- too utterly delicious to realise!"

Peggy drew deep sighs of happiness, and hung on to Arthur's arm in an abandonment of tenderness which showed her in a new light to her companions. She would not loosen her grasp for a moment, and even when seated at the table kept her fingers tightly locked round his arm, as though afraid that he might escape.

As for Arthur himself, he was in the wildest spirits. He was as handsome a young soldier as one could wish to see, and his likeness to Peggy seemed only to make him more attractive in the eyes of the beholders.

"Hurrah!" he cried cheerily. "Hurrah, for a good old vicarage tea!

Scones? that's the style! Mary made them, I hope, and put in lots of currants. Raspberry jam! I say, mater, do you remember that solemn waitress you had, who told you that the jam was done again, and when you exclaimed in horror, said, 'Yes, 'um, it's not a bit of good buying raspberry jam. _They like it_!' Ha, ha, ha! I've often thought of that! That looks uncommonly good cake you have over there. Thank you, I think I will! Begin with cake, and work steadily back to bread and b.u.t.ter--that's the style, isn't it, Peggums? Esther, I looks towards you! Mellicent, you are as thin as ever, I see. You should really do something for it. There are regular hollows in your cheeks."

"Nasty, horrid thing! You are always teasing! How would you like it if you were struck fat yourself?" cried Mellicent, aggrieved. But, in spite of herself, her chubby cheeks dimpled with smiles as Arthur rolled his eyes at her across the table, for there was something irresistibly fascinating about this young fellow, and it was like old times to see him seated at the tea-table and to listen to his merry rattling voice.

"The dominie must grant a general holiday to-morrow," he declared, "and we will do something fine to celebrate the occasion. We'll have out this wonderful camera in the morning and take some groups. You and I must be taken together, Peggy, to send out to the parents. You promised to send me copies of all the things you took, but you are as false in that respect as the whole race of amateur photographers. They are grand hands at promising, but they never, by any chance--Hallo! What's that?

My cup over? Awfully sorry, mater, really! I'll put a penny in the missionary-box. Was it a clean cloth?"

"Oh, my dear boy, don't apologise! I should not have felt that it was really you if you had not knocked your cup over! To see the table-cloth swimming with tea all round convinces me that it is Arthur himself, and n.o.body else! Tut, tut! What does a table-cloth matter?" And Mrs Asplin beamed upon her favourite as if she were really rather delighted than otherwise at his exploit.

It was a merry, not to say noisy, meal which followed. Peggy's lost spirits had come back with the first glimpse of Arthur's face; and her quips and cranks were so irresistibly droll that three separate times over Mellicent choked over her tea, and had to be relieved with vigorous pounding on the back, while even Esther shook with laughter, and the boys became positively uproarious.

Then Mr Asplin came in, and Arthur was carefully concealed behind the window-curtains, while he was asked whom he would most like to see if the choice were given him. In provoking manner he mentioned at once a brother in Australia, and, when informed that relatives were not on the list, recollected an old college chum who was out in the Mauritius.

"Oh dear, what a stupid man!" cried his wife in despair. "We don't mean the friends of your youth, dear! Think of the last few years and of your young friends! Now, if you could choose, whom would you--"

"Arthur Saville!" said the vicar promptly, upon which Arthur made a loophole between the curtains and thrust his mischievous face through the gap, to the vicar's amazement and the uproarious delight of the onlookers. A dozen questions had to be asked and answered about studies, examinations, and health, while Peggy sat listening, beaming with happiness and pride.

It came as quite a shock to all when the vicar announced that it was time to dress for dinner, and Mrs Asplin looked at Peggy with an apologetic smile.

"We were all so charmed to see Arthur that I'm afraid we have been selfish and engrossed too much of his attention. You two will be longing for a cosy little chat to yourselves. If you run upstairs now, Peggy, and hurry through your dressing, there will be a little time before dinner, and you could have this room to yourselves."

"Yes, run along, Peg! It won't take me ten minutes to get into my clothes, and I'll be here waiting for you!" cried Arthur eagerly. And Peggy went flying two steps at a time upstairs to her own room.

The gas was lit; the can of hot water stood in the basin, the towel neatly folded over the top; the hands of the little red clock pointed to six o'clock, and the faint chime met her ear as she entered.

Peggy stood still in the doorway, an icy chill crept through her veins, her hands grasped the lintel, and her eyes grew wide and blank with horror. There, on the writing-table lay a brown paper parcel--the precious parcel which contained the calendar which had been the object of such painful work and anxiety!

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

PEGGY IS LOST.

Arthur Saville waited in vain by the schoolroom fire, for his sister did not join him. And when he entered the dining-room in response to the summons of the gong, she had not yet made her appearance.

Mrs Asplin looked at him with uplifted brows.

"Where is Peggy?"

"I don't know. I haven't seen her since she went upstairs. The little wretch can't have hurried very much."

"She hasn't been with you, then! Never mind, there is plenty of time to come. She must be making a special toilet for your benefit."

But when the first course was nearly over and the girl had not yet appeared, Mrs Asplin grew impatient, and despatched the servant to hasten her movements.

"Just tell her that we have been at table for nearly ten minutes. Ask if she will be long."

Mary left the room, was absent a short time, and came back with an extraordinary statement.

"Miss Peggy is not in her room, ma'am."

"Not in her room! Then she must have come downstairs. Perhaps she didn't hear the gong. Just look in the schoolroom, Mary, and in the other rooms too, and tell her to come at once."

Another few minutes pa.s.sed, and back again came Mary, looking flushed and mysterious.

"I can't see Miss Peggy anywhere, ma'am. She has not come downstairs."

"You have looked in the drawing-room--Mr Asplin's study?"

"Yes, ma'am."