About Peggy Saville Part 17

Peggy lifted the ends of her ap.r.o.n in her hands and executed a dance of triumph on her own account when all was finished, and Rosalind said, "Weally, we have been clever! I think we may be proud of ourselves!" in amiable effusion.

The two girls went off to luncheon in a state of halcyon amiability which was new indeed in the history of their acquaintance, and Lady Darcy listened with an amused smile to their rhapsodies on the subject of the morning's work, promising faithfully not to look at anything until the right moment should arrive, and she should be summoned to gaze and admire.

By the time that the workers were ready to return to the room, the men had finished the arrangements at which they had been at work before lunch, and were beginning to tack festoons of evergreens along the walls, the dull paper of which had been covered with fluting of soft pink muslin. The effect was heavy and clumsy in the extreme, and Rosalind stamped her foot with an outburst of fretful anger.

"Stop putting up those wreaths! Stop at once! They are simply hideous!

It weminds me of a penny weading in the village schoolwoom! You might as well put up 'G.o.d save the Queen' and 'A Mewwy Chwistmas' at once!

Take them down this minute, Jackson! I won't have them!"

The man touched his forehead, and began pulling out the nails in half-hearted fashion.

"Very well, miss, as you wish. Seems a pity, though, not to use 'em, for it took me all yesterday to put 'em together. It's a sin to throw 'em away."

"I won't have them in the house, if they took you a week!" Rosalind replied sharply, and she turned on her heel and looked appealingly in Peggy's face. "It's a howwid failure! The woom looks so stiff and stwaight--like a pink box with nothing in it! Mother won't like it a bit. What can we do to make it better?"

Peggy scowled, pursed up her lips, pressed her hand to her forehead, and strode up and down the room, rolling her eyes from side to side, and going through all the grimaces of one in search of inspiration.

Rosalind was right: unless some device were found by which the shape of the room could be disguised, the decorations must be p.r.o.nounced more or less a failure. She craned her head to the ceiling, and suddenly beamed in triumph.

"I have it! The very thing! We will fasten the garlands to that middle beam, and loop up the ends at intervals all round the walls. That will break the squareness, and make the room look like a tent, with a ceiling of flowers."

"Ah-h!" cried Rosalind; and clasped her hands with a gesture of relief.

"Of course! The vewy thing! We ought to have thought of it at the beginning. Get the ladder at once, Jackson, and put in a hook or wing, or something to hold the ends; and be sure that it is strong enough.

What a good thing that the weaths are weady! You see, your work will not be wasted after all."

She was quite gracious in her satisfaction, and for the next two hours she and Peggy were busily occupied superintending the hanging of the evergreen wreaths and in arranging bunches of flowers to be placed at each point where the wreaths were fastened to the wall. At the end of this time, Rosalind was summoned to welcome the distinguished visitors who had arrived by the afternoon train. She invited Peggy to accompany her to the drawing-room, but in a hesitating fashion, and with a glance round the disordered room, which said, as plainly as words could do, that she would be disappointed if the invitation were accepted; and Peggy, transformed in a moment into a poker of pride and dignity, declared that she would prefer to remain where she was until all was finished.

"Well, it weally would be better, wouldn't it? I will have a tway sent in to you here, and do, Mawiquita, see that evewything is swept up and made tidy at once, for I shall bring them in to look wound diwectly after tea, and we must have the wooms tidy!"

Rosalind tripped away, and Peggy was left to herself for a lonely and troublesome hour. The tea-tray was brought in, and she was just seating herself before an impromptu table, when up came a gardener to say that one of "these 'ere wreaths seemed to hang uncommon near the gas-bracket.

It didn't seem safe like." And off she went in a panic of consternation to see what could be done. There was nothing for it but to move the wreath some inches farther away, which involved moving the next also, and the next, and the next, so as to equalise the distances as much as possible; and by the time that they were settled to Peggy's satisfaction, lo, table and tray had been whisked out of sight by some busy pair of hands, and only a bare s.p.a.ce met her eyes. This was blow number one, for, after working hard all afternoon, tea and cake come as a refreshment which one would not readily miss. She cheered herself, however, by putting dainty finishing touches here and there, seeing that the lamp was lighted in the "harem" outside, and was busy placing fairy lamps among the shrubs which were to screen the band, when a babel of voices from outside warned her that the visitors were approaching.

Footsteps came nearer and nearer, and a chorus of exclamations greeted the sight of the "harem." The door stood open, Peggy waited for Rosalind's voice to call and bid her share the honours, but no summons came. She heard Lady Darcy's exclamation, and the quick, strong tones of the strange countess.

"Charming, charming; quite a stroke of genius! I never saw a more artistic little nook. What made you think of it, my dear?"

"Ha!" said Peggy to herself, and took a step forward, only to draw back in dismay, as a light laugh reached her ear, followed by Rosalind's careless--

"Oh, I don't know; I wanted to make it pwetty, don't you know; it was so dweadfully bare, and there seemed no other way."

Then there was a rustle of silk skirts, and the two ladies entered the room, followed by their respective daughters, Rosalind beautiful and radiant, and the Ladies Berkhampton with their chins poked forward, and their elbows thrust out in ungainly fashion. They paused on the threshold, and every eye travelled up to the wreath-decked ceiling. A flush of pleasure came into Lady Darcy's pale cheeks, and she listened to the countess's compliments with sparkling eyes.

"It is all the work of this clever child," she said, laying her hand fondly on Rosalind's shoulder. "I have had practically nothing to do with the decorations. This is the first time I have been in the room to-day, and I had no idea that the garlands were to be used in this way.

I thought they were for the walls."

"I congratulate you, Rosalind! You are certainly very happy in your arrangements," said the countess cordially. Then she put up her eyegla.s.s and stared inquiringly at Peggy, who stood by with her hair fastened back in its usual pigtail, and a big white ap.r.o.n pinned over her dress.

"She thinks I am the kitchen-maid!" said Peggy savagely to herself; but there was little fear of such a mistake, and, the moment that Lady Darcy noticed the girl's presence, she introduced her kindly enough, if with somewhat of a condescending air.

"This is a little friend of Rosalind's who has come up to help. She is fond of this sort of work," she said; then, before any of the strangers had time to acknowledge the introduction, she added hastily, "And now I am sure you must all be tired after your journey, and will be glad to go to your rooms and rest. It is quite wicked of me to keep you standing.

Let me take you upstairs at once!"

They sailed away with the same rustle of garments, the same babel of high-toned voices, and Peggy stood alone in the middle of the deserted room. No one had asked her to rest, or suggested that she might be tired; she had been overlooked and forgotten in the presence of the distinguished visitor. She was only a little girl who was "fond" of this sort of work, and, it might be supposed, was only too thankful to be allowed to help! The house sank into silence. She waited for half an hour longer, in the hope that someone would remember her presence, and then, tired, hungry, and burning with repressed anger, crept upstairs to her own little room and fell asleep upon the couch.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

ANOTHER ACCIDENT!

Dinner was served unusually early that evening, and was an embarra.s.sing ordeal from which Peggy was thankful to escape.

On her way upstairs, however, Rosalind called her back with an eager pet.i.tion.

"Oh, Peggy! would you mind aww.a.n.ging some flowers? A big hamper has just awwived from town, and the servants are all so dweadfully busy. I must get dwessed in time to help mother to weceive, but it wouldn't matter if you were a few minutes late. Thanks so much! Awfully obliged."

She gave her thanks before an a.s.sent had been spoken, and tripped smilingly away, while Peggy went back to the big room to find a great tray full of hothouse treasures waiting to be arranged, and no availing vases in which to place them. The flowers, however, were so beautiful, and the fronds of maidenhair so green and graceful, that the work was a pleasure; she enjoyed discovering unlikely places in which to group them, and lingered so long over her arrangements that the sudden striking of the clock sent her flying upstairs in a panic of consternation. Another quarter of an hour and the vicarage party would arrive, for they had been bidden a little in advance of the rest, so that Robert might help his mother and sister in receiving their guests.

Peggy tore off dress and ap.r.o.n, and made all the speed she could, but she was still standing in dressing-jacket and frilled white petticoat, brushing out her long waves of hair when the door opened and Esther and Mellicent entered. They had begged to be shown to Miss Saville's room, and came rustling in, smiling and beaming, with woollen caps over their heads, snow-shoes on their feet, and fleecy shawls swathed round and round their figures, and fastened with a hairpin on the left shoulder, in secure and elegant fashion. Peggy stood, brush in hand, staring at them and shaking with laughter.

"He! he! he! I hope you are warm enough! Esther looks like a sausage, and Mellicent looks like a dumpling. Come here, and I'll unwind you.

You look as if you could not move an inch, hand or foot."

"It was mother," Mellicent explained. "She was so afraid we would catch cold. Oh, Peggy, you are not half dressed. You will be late! Whatever have you been doing? Have you had a nice day? Did you enjoy it? What did you have for dinner?"

Peggy waved her brush towards the door in dramatic warning.

"Rosalind's room!" she whispered. "Don't yell, my love, unless you wish every word to be overheard. This is her dressing-room, which she lent to me for the occasion, so there's only a door between us.--There, now, you are free. Oh, dear me, how you have squashed your sash! You really must remember to lift it up when you sit down. You had better stand with your back to the fire, to take out the creases."

Mellicent's face clouded for a moment, but brightened again as she caught sight of her reflection in the swing gla.s.s. Crumples or no crumples, there was no denying that blue was a becoming colour. The plump, rosy cheeks dimpled with satisfaction, and the flaxen head was twisted to and fro to survey herself in every possible position.

"Is my hair right at the back? How does the bow look? I haven't burst, have I? I thought I heard something crack in the cab. Do you think I will do?"

"Put on your slippers, and I'll tell you. Anyone would look a fright in evening dress and snow-shoes."

Peggy's answer was given with a severity which sent Mellicent waddling across the room to turn out the contents of the bag which lay on the couch, but the next moment came a squeal of consternation, and there she stood in the att.i.tude of a tragedy queen, with staring eyes, parted lips, and two shabby black slippers grasped in either hand.

"M-m-m-my old ones!" she gasped in horror-stricken accents.

"B-b-b-brought them by mistake!" It was some moments before her companions fully grasped the situation, for the new slippers had been black too, and of much the same make as those now exhibited. Mrs Asplin had had many yearnings over white shoes and stockings, all silk and satin, and tinkling diamond buckles like those which had been displayed in Peggy's dress-box. Why should not her darlings have dainty possessions like other girls? It went to her heart to think what an improvement these two articles would make in the simple costumes; then she remembered her husband's delicate health, his exhaustion at the end of the day, and the painful effort with which he nerved himself to fresh exertions, and felt a bigger pang at the thought of wasting money so hardly earned. As her custom was on such occasions, she put the whole matter before the girls, talking to them as friends, and asking their help in her decision.

"You see, darlings," she said, "I want to do my very best for you, and if it would be a real disappointment not to have these things, I'll manage it somehow, for once in a way. But it's a question whether you would have another chance of wearing them, and it seems a great deal of money to spend for just one evening, when poor dear father--"

"Oh, mother, no, don't think of it! Black ones will do perfectly well.

What can it matter what sort of shoes and stockings we wear? It won't make the least difference in our enjoyment," said Esther the sensible; but Mellicent was by no means of this opinion.

"I don't know about that! I love white legs!" she sighed dolefully.

"All my life long it has been my ambition to have white legs. Silk ones with little bits of lace let in down the front, like Peggy's. They're so beautiful! It doesn't seem a bit like a party to wear black stockings; only of course I know I must, for I'd hate to waste father's money. When I grow up I shall marry a rich man, and have everything I want. It's disgusting to be poor... Will they be nice black slippers, mother, with buckles on them?"

"Yes, dearie. Beauties! Great big buckles!" said Mrs Asplin lovingly; and a few days later a box had come down from London, and the slippers had been chosen out of a selection of "leading novelties"; worn with care and reverence the previous evening, "to take off the stiffness,"

and then after all--oh, the awfulness of it!--had been replaced by an old pair, in the bustle of departure.

The three girls stared at one another in consternation. Here was a catastrophe to happen just at the last moment, when everyone was so happy and well satisfied! The dismay on the chubby face was so pitiful that neither of Mellicent's companions could find it in her heart to speak a word of reproof. They rather set to work to propose different ways out of the difficulty.