About Peggy Saville Part 18

"Get hold of Max, and coax him to go back for them!"

"He wouldn't; it's no use. It's raining like anything, and it would take him an hour to go there and come back."

"Ask Lady Darcy to send one of the servants--"

"No use, my dear. They are scampering up and down like mice, and haven't a moment to spare from their own work."

"See if Rosalind would lend me a pair!"

"Silly goose! Look at your foot. It is three times the size of hers.

You will just have to wear them, I'm afraid. Give them to me, and let me see what can be done." Peggy took the slippers in her hands and studied them critically. They were certainly not new, but then they were by no means old; just respectable, middle-aged creatures, slightly rubbed on the heel and white at the toes, but with many a day of good hard wear still before them.

"Oh, come," she said rea.s.suringly, "they are not so bad, Mellicent!

With a little polish they would look quite presentable. I'll tap at the door and ask Rosalind if she has some that she can lend us. She is sure to have it. There are about fifty thousand bottles on her table."

Peggy crossed the room as she spoke, tapped on the panel, and received an immediate answer in a high complacent treble.

"Coming! Coming! I'm weady;" then the door flew open; a tiny pink silk shoe stepped daintily over the mat, and Rosalind stood before them in all the glory of a new Parisian dress. Three separate gasps of admiration greeted her appearance, and she stood smiling and dimpling while the girls took in the fascinating details--the satin frock of palest imaginable pink, the white chiffon over-dress which fell from shoulder to hem in graceful freedom, sprinkled over with exquisite rose--leaves--it was all wonderful--fantastic--as far removed from Peggy's muslin as from the homely crepon of the vicar's daughters.

"Rosalind! what a perfect _angel_ you look!" gasped Mellicent, her own dilemma forgotten in her wholehearted admiration; but the next moment memory came back, and her expression changed to one of pitiful appeal.

"But, oh, have you got any boot-polish? The most awful thing has happened. I've brought my old shoes by mistake! Look! I don't know what on earth I shall do, if you can't give me something to black the toes." She held out the shoes as she spoke, and Rosalind gave a shrill scream of laughter.

"Oh! oh! Those things! How fwightfully funny! what a fwightful joke!

You will look like Cinderwella, when she wan away, and the gla.s.s slippers changed back to her dweadful old clogs. It is too scweamingly funny, I do declare!"

"Oh, never mind what you declare! Can you lend us some boot-polish-- that's the question!" cried Peggy sharply. She knew Mellicent's horror of ridicule, and felt indignant with the girl who could stand by, secure in her own beauty and elegance, and have no sympathy for the misfortune of a friend. "If you have a bottle of peerless gloss, or any of those s.h.i.+ny things with a sponge fastened on the cork, I can make them look quite respectable, and no one will have any cause to laugh."

"Ha, ha, ha!" trilled Rosalind once more, "Peggy is cwoss! I never knew such a girl for flying into tantwums at a moment's notice! Yes, of course I'll lend you the polish. There is some in this little cupboard--there! I won't touch it, in case it soils my gloves. Shall I call Marie to put it on for you?"

"Thank you, there's no need--I can do it! I would rather do it myself!"

"Oh--oh, isn't she cwoss! You will bweak the cork if you scwew it about like that, and then you'll never be able to get it out. Why don't you pull it pwoperly?"

"I know how to pull out a cork, thank you; I've done it before!"

Peggy shot an angry glance at her hostess, and set to work again with doubled energy. Now that Rosalind had laughed at her inability, it would be misery to fail; but the bottle had evidently lain aside for some time, and a stiff black crust had formed round the cork which made it difficult to move. Peggy pulled and tugged, while Rosalind stood watching, laughing her aggravating, patronising little laugh, and dropping a word of instruction from time to time. And then, quite suddenly, a dreadful thing happened. In the flash of an eye--so quickly and unexpectedly, that, looking back upon it, it seemed like a nightmare which could not possibly have taken place in real life--the cork jerked out in Peggy's hand, in response to a savage tug, and with it out flew an inky jet, which rose straight up in the air, separated into a mult.i.tude of tiny drops, and descended in a flood--oh, the horror of that moment!--over Rosalind's face, neck, and dress.

One moment a fairy princess, a G.o.ddess of summer, the next a figure of fun with black spots scattered thickly over cheeks and nose, a big splash on the white shoulder, and inky daubs dotted here and there between the rose-leaves. What a transformation! What a spectacle of horror! Peggy stood transfixed; Mellicent screamed in terror; and Esther ran forward, handkerchief in hand, only to be waved aside with angry vehemence. Rosalind's face was convulsed with anger; she stamped her foot and spoke at the pitch of her voice, as if she had no control over her feelings.

"Oh, oh, oh! You wicked girl! you hateful, detestable girl! You did it on purpose, because you were in a temper! You have been in a temper all the afternoon! You have spoiled my dress! I was weady to go downstairs. It is eight o'clock. In a few minutes everyone will be here, and oh, what shall I do--what shall I do! Whatever will mother say when she sees me?"

As if to give a practical answer to this inquiry, there came a sound of hasty footsteps in the corridor, the door flew open, and Lady Darcy rushed in, followed by the French maid.

"My darling, what is it? I heard your voice. Has something happened?

Oh-h!" She stopped short, paralysed with consternation, while the maid wrung her hands in despair. "Rosalind, what _have_ you done to yourself?"

"Nothing, nothing! It was Peggy Saville; she splashed me with her horrid boot-polish--I gave it to her for her shoes. It is on my face, my neck, in my mouth--"

"I was pulling the cork. It came out with a jerk. I didn't know; I didn't see!--"

Lady Darcy's face stiffened with an expression of icy displeasure.

"It is too annoying! Your dress spoiled at the last moment!

Inexcusable carelessness! What is to be done, Marie? I am in despair!"

The Frenchwoman shrugged her shoulders with an indignant glance in Peggy's direction.

"There is nothing to do. Put on another dress--that is all.

Mademoiselle must change as quick as she can. If I sponge the spots, I spoil the whole thing at once."

"But you could cut them out, couldn't you?" cried Peggy, the picture of woe, yet miserably eager to make what amends she could. "You could cut out the spots with sharp scissors, and the holes would not show, for the chiffon is so full and loose. I--I think I could do it, if you would let me try!"

Mistress and maid exchanged a sharp, mutual glance, and the Frenchwoman nodded slowly.

"Yes, it is true; I could rearrange the folds. It will take some time, but still it can be done. It is the best plan."

"Go then, Rosalind, go with Marie; there is not a moment to spare, and for pity's sake don't cry! Your eyes will be red, and at any moment now the people may begin to arrive. I wanted you to be with me to receive your guests. It will be most awkward being without you, but there is no help for it, I suppose. The whole thing is too annoying for words!"

Lady Darcy swept out of the room, and the three girls were once more left alone; but how changed were their feelings in those few short moments! There was not the shadow of a smile between them; they looked more as if they were about to attend a funeral than a scene of festivity, and for several moments no one had the heart to speak. Peggy still held the fatal cork in her hand, and went through the work of polis.h.i.+ng Mellicent's slippers with an air of the profoundest dejection.

When they were finished she handed them over in dreary silence, and was recommencing the brus.h.i.+ng of her hair, when something in the expression of the chubby face arrested her attention. Her eyes flashed; she faced round with a frown and a quick, "Well, what is it? What are you thinking now?"

"I--I wondered," whispered Mellicent breathlessly, "if you did do it on purpose! Did you _mean_ to spoil her dress, and make her change it?"

Peggy's hands dropped to her side, her back straightened until she stood stiff and straight as a poker. Every atom of expression seemed to die out of her face. Her voice had a deadly quiet in its intonation.

"What do you think about it yourself?"

"I--I thought perhaps you did! She teased you, and you were so cross.

You seemed to be standing so very near her, and you are jealous of her-- and she looked so lovely! I thought perhaps you did..."

"Mellicent Asplin," said Peggy quietly, and her voice was like the east wind that blows from an icy-covered mountain,--"Mellicent Asplin, my name is Saville, and in my family we don't condescend to mean and dishonourable tricks. I may not like Rosalind, but I would have given all I have in the world sooner than this should have happened. I was trying to do you a service, but you forget that. You forget many things! I have been jealous of Rosalind, because when she arrived you and your sister forgot that I was alone and far-away from everyone belonging to me, and were so much engrossed with her that you left me alone to amuse myself as best I might. You were pleased enough to have me when no one else was there, but you left me the moment someone appeared who was richer and grander than I. I wouldn't have treated _you_ like that, if our positions had been reversed. If I dislike Rosalind, it is your fault as much as hers; more than hers, for it was you who made me dread her coming!"

Peggy stopped, trembling and breathless. There was a moment's silence in the room, and then Esther spoke in a slow, meditative fas.h.i.+on.

"It is quite true!" she said. "We _have_ left you alone, Peggy; but it is not quite so bad as you think. Really and truly we like you far the best, but--but Rosalind is such a change to us! Everything about her is so beautiful and so different, that she has always seemed the great excitement of our lives. I don't know that I'm exactly fond of her, but I want to see her, and talk to her, and hear her speak, and she is only here for a short time in the year. It was because we looked upon you as really one of ourselves that we seemed to neglect you; but it was wrong, all the same. As for your spoiling her dress on purpose, it's ridiculous to think of it. How could you say such a thing, Mellicent, when Peggy was trying to help you, too? How _could_ you be so mean and horrid?"

"Oh, well, I'm sure I wish I were dead!" wailed Mellicent promptly.

"Nothing but fusses and bothers, and just when I thought I was going to be so happy! If I'd had white shoes, this would never have happened.

Always the same thing! When you look forward to a treat, everything is as piggy and nasty as it can be! Wish I'd never come! Wish I'd stayed at home, and let the horrid old party go to Jericho! Rosalind's crying, Peggy's cross, you are preaching! This is a nice way to enjoy yourself, I must say!"

Nothing is more hopeless than to reason with a placid person who has lapsed into a fit of ill-temper. The two elder girls realised this, and remained perfectly silent while Mellicent continued to wish for death, to lament the general misery of life, and the bad fortune which attended the wearers of black slippers. So incessant was the stream of her repinings, that it seemed as if it might have gone on for ever, had not a servant entered at last, with the information that the guests were beginning to arrive, and that Lady Darcy would be glad to see the young ladies without delay. Esther was anxious to wait and help Peggy with her toilet, but that young lady was still on her dignity, and by no means anxious to descend to a scene of gaiety for which she had little heart. She refused the offer, therefore, in Mariquita fas.h.i.+on, and the sisters walked dejectedly along the brightly-lit corridors, Mellicent still continuing her melancholy wail, and Esther reflecting sadly that all was vanity, and devoutly wis.h.i.+ng herself back in the peaceful atmosphere of the vicarage.

CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.

FIRE!