More About Peggy Part 8

"Dear Mellicent, I am sowwy, but I cannot take more than one fwiend,"

she murmured caressingly. "Evewybody is asking for invitations, and it would not do to encroach too far on Lady B's hospitality. Another time, when Peggy is not going, I should be delighted to take you with me--"

"But, Rosalind, I can't go on Friday. I am dreadfully disappointed, for it is just the sort of thing I should love, and if I had only an ordinary engagement I would put it off, but it is not. An old school- friend of mother's is coming up from the country especially to see us, and we could not possibly put her off, as we have already had no end of difficulty to fix a day. Letters and telegrams have been flying to and fro, and if we altered the date there is no saying when we should meet.

I am very, very sorry, but it is impossible to go with you."

"But surely you could be spared for the afternoon! You would see your fwiend in the morning, and at dinner--"

"She won't arrive until lunch-time, and must leave again at six o'clock.

She will travel four hours in the train just to spend the afternoon with us, so I could not possibly go out; but there is no reason why Mellicent should stay in too. She could go instead of me."

Peggy would not have ventured to make such a suggestion had not Rosalind's own protestations opened the way, but as it was she felt no diffidence in making it, and the change from despair to rapture on her friend's expressive face went far to console her for her own disappointment. But if Mellicent's expression was significant, Rosalind's was even more so. Her lips tightened, the colour deepened in her cheeks, and her eyes sent forth an unmistakable gleam of vexation.

She hated being forced into an unpleasant position, but there was one thing which she would hate even more--to be obliged to take a dowdily dressed, countrified-looking visitor to one of the social events of the season, and at all risks this must be avoided. Mellicent would probably be offended, Peggy furious, Arthur pained and disappointed--she knew it beforehand, and lamented the knowledge; but, as Arthur had said, the bent of a lifetime is too strong to be overcome in a moment. Rosalind would have been ready to protest that she cared a hundred times more for her friends' feelings than for her own dignity, but when it came to the test she sacrificed them without hesitation in the interest of selfish pride.

"I am sowwy, but if you cannot go, Peggy, I think we had better leave it alone for the pwesent. Some day we may all be able to arrange to go together, but Lady B's will be a gweat cwush, and I shall meet many fwiends, and be so much engrossed. Mellicent would not enjoy herself without you. She would know n.o.body."

There was a dead silence. Hector stared at his shoes; Peggy gave a short, _staccato_ cough; and Arthur looked swiftly across the room, to see how Mellicent bore herself beneath this unmerited snub. She was seated on the sofa beside Eunice Rollo, slightly in advance of himself, so that only a crimson cheek _was_ visible, and a neck reddened to the roots of the hair, but Arthur saw something else, which touched him even more than his old friend's distress--a little grey-gloved hand which shot out from its owner's side and gripped the broad waist; a little hand that stroked, and patted, and pressed close in sympathetic embrace.

Arthur's lips twitched beneath his moustache, but he said no word; and presently Rosalind rose and took her departure, feeling the atmosphere too charged with electricity to be agreeable.

Contrary to his usual custom, Arthur did not accompany her downstairs, so that he returned from the door in time to hear the explosion of indignation which followed her departure. Mellicent stamped up and down the floor, breathless and tearful; Eunice stared at the floor; and Peggy sat erect as a poker, with a bright spots of colour on either cheek, and lips screwed into a tight little b.u.t.ton of scorn.

"Don't speak to me!" she was saying. "Don't ask my opinion. I am bereft of speech. Never, in all my existence, have I ever beheld such an exhibition of sn.o.bbish disloyalty--"

"Mellicent, my mother has a ticket," put in Eunice. "You can go with her and take my place. I have seen the Princess scores of times. Oh, please don't cry, it isn't worth it, indeed it isn't!"

"I'd scorn to cry. I wouldn't condescend to shed a tear for the nasty horrid thing!" cried Mellicent, mopping with her handkerchief at the continuous stream which rolled down her cheeks. "It is she who should cry, not I. If I _am_ poor and shabby, I know how to behave. I'm a lady, and Rosalind Darcy is a c-cad. She _is_, and I don't care who hears me say it! I've known her all my life, and she's ashamed to be seen with me. I'll go home to-morrow, I will! I'll stay at home where people love me, and don't choose their friends for the cl-clothes they wear!"

Mellicent burst into fresh tears, and Peggy looked anxiously into Arthur's face. It was drawn and fixed, and his lips were set, as if in endurance of actual physical pain.

CHAPTER TEN.

Four days before Peggy left town she had an amusing encounter with one of her old friends. The little party had divided, and while Mrs Saville and Mellicent shopped in the West End, the colonel and his daughter drove into the City to visit a collection of the pictures of one of the old masters. They were sauntering through the second room when Peggy's attention was attracted by a group standing at a few yards'

distance--a lady, a gentleman, and two little boys with Eton collars and round-about jackets--a family group for a ducat, yet surely, surely there was something familiar in the figure and bearing of the supposed mother! She was tall and dignified, her clothes were quite miraculously tidy, and the smooth, fair hair was plaited in Puritan fashion round the head.

"Can it--can it be?" queried Peggy to herself; then, catching sight of a long grave face, "It _is_!" she cried with a flash of joy, and walking forward, planted herself deliberately in the stranger's path. What she antic.i.p.ated came precisely to pa.s.s, for the lady stepped back from her position, collided violently with herself, and began hurriedly to apologise.

"I beg your pardon! I did not see--I hope I have not hurt you." So far in fluent unconsciousness; then suddenly she stopped short, gasped, hesitated, stared hard at the face before her, and e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed a breathless, "_Peggy--Saville_!"

"Esther Asplin! I knew it was you! I knew no one else in the world could possess that back hair! How extraordinary to come across you here! It's a marvel that Mellicent was not with me, but we were both looking forward to seeing you at the vicarage at the end of the week!"

"I am on my way home now. I go down by the six o'clock train, and took the opportunity of bringing the boys into town to see some of the sights. They are such dears, Peggy. The one with the red hair is a genius. You should see his Latin prose! The fat one is a lovable little soul, but terribly stupid and lazy; a great trial to my patience.

I suppose Mellicent has told you all about my work, and how happy I am?

The parents are such charming, cultivated people. The mother is a sister of Professor Reid, the gentleman who is with us now." She rolled her eyes meaningly towards the cadaverous-looking man who had fled to the end of the room at Peggy's approach. "He was one of our lecturers at Girton, and recommended me to his sister when I left. Such an honour for me, for he is one of the finest men in the 'Varsity'--So wonderfully learned and clever!"

"He _looks_ it," remarked Miss Peggy, regarding the lanky, stooping figure with a crinkle of disdain in her saucy little nose. "Just exactly my idea of a learned professor. Does he ever brush his coat?"

Esther flushed, and bridled with displeasure.

"I never inquired," she returned coldly. "In conversation with Professor Reid one has something better to do than discuss coats. He was kind enough to offer to meet us in town, and to take the boys home after I leave to-night, and it is a privilege to go about with him.

I'll introduce you to him if you like, and--"

"You'd better not. I am sure he wouldn't like it. Let me introduce you to father instead. He is wondering what new friend I have discovered, and will be so much interested when he knows who it is."

Colonel Saville came forward in response to his daughter's summons, and greeted her friend with much cordiality, while Peggy was agreeably surprised to note the easy self-possession with which Esther sustained her part in the conversation. Contact with the world had rubbed away the rusticity of manner which still characterised Mellicent, and though by no possibility could Esther be called pretty, there was an undeniable attractiveness about the tall, neat figure and intellectual face. Peggy knew that her father was agreeably impressed, for the colonel had a tell-tale expression, and could by no possibility manage to hide his feelings. If he were bored, dreariness feebly described his appearance; if he were annoyed, his eyes sent out little sparks of fire, and every hair in his moustache bristled on its own account; if he were sad, he lost in five minutes the last remnant of youth, and appeared a wan old man; while if he were pleased, he might have pa.s.sed as Arthur's brother, so alert and beaming was his demeanour. On the present occasion he was all smiles and bows, and joked elaborately with the little pupils, who were brought up and introduced, when, to Peggy's amus.e.m.e.nt, the genius preserved a stolid demeanour, while the fat, little dunce displayed an agreeable animation.

"An exceedingly sensible, pleasant young woman," was the colonel's verdict as he left the room; and Peggy peered round over her shoulder, and beheld the sensible young woman rearranging the fat boy's tie while the professor cautiously retraced his steps towards her.

A few days later Peggy scrambled her possessions together to prepare for her visit to the vicarage. Carter, Mrs Saville's maid, had departed to pay a visit to her relatives in the country, and in her absence her young mistress complacently folded her dressing-gown on top of muslin dresses, pressed a jewel-box over a chiffon bodice, and remarked, with a sigh of satisfaction, that it was a blessing to be able to wait on oneself, and to be beholden to no outsider; after which she straight-way left her keys on the dressing-table, and drove off to the station in blissful unconsciousness. Mellicent was divided between grief at leaving dear, beautiful, exciting London and antic.i.p.ation of the reflected glory with which she would shine at home as the restorer of Peggy to the household; and in the vicarage itself all was excitement and expectation, the old cook concocting every dainty she could think of in a kitchen heated up to furnace-heat; Mr Asplin mowing the lawn in hot haste, because the daisies _would_ spring up in impertinent fashion in the hot dry weather; Mrs Asplin flying from one room to another, patting cushions into shape, and artfully placing little tables over worn spots on the carpet; and Miss Esther laying out clean towels, and flicking infinitesimal grains of dust from the chairs and tables. The sight of disorder was a positive pain to Esther's orderly eyes. It was reported of her that in the midst of a Latin examination she had begged to have a blind put straight, since its crooked condition distracted her mind; and therefore it may be surmised that on the present occasion Robert Darcy met with no very cordial reception, when he was discovered stamping about the newly swept rooms in a pair of dusty shoes, scattering fragments of leaves and stubble behind him.

"Bless the child, it will seem all the more home-like to her if it's not all spick and span! Don't pick them up, Esther. I like to see them.

It was good of you to come over, Rob, for I'm not myself at all without a boy in the house, and it does me good to see your dear dirty boots,"

cried Mrs Asplin, and blinked her eyes, trying hard to keep down the tears which _would_ rise at the thought of Max in his far-off home, and all the train of mischievous, happy-hearted lads who had been under her care, and who were now fighting the world for themselves. Every morning as she woke, and felt the tired pressure at her head, she felt a pang of relief at the remembrance that there was no longer the old necessity to be up and doing. Every evening as she rested on the old sofa she remarked afresh to her husband how sweet it was to be alone, and to have the rest and peace of a quiet house; but between the two ends of the day there came a dozen other moments, when she longed for the cheery bustle, the clamour of youthful voices, the presence of the merry young band.

Such a moment came to her now, and the tears were already glistening in the sweet grey eyes when the sound of wheels crunched up the drive, the vicar dashed into the house to shed his alpaca coat, and his wife and daughter flew excitedly into the garden. The carriage stopped, a blue- robed damsel leapt out of either door, and for the next two minutes four female figures were so inextricably mixed together that it would have been difficult to an onlooker to say which was which, or to apportion the waving arms and bobbing heads to their proper owners. The vicar stood in the background, looking on with a comical gleam of amus.e.m.e.nt on his long face, while Rob shrugged his shoulders and looked bored and superior, as men are fond of doing when women enjoy themselves in a way which they themselves cannot understand. Presently, however, the kaleidoscope-like ma.s.s dissolved into its component parts, and a young lady advanced towards the vicar with a pretty flushed face beneath a French hat, and two little hands stretched out in greeting. Mr Asplin looked at her critically. _Was_ it Peggy? For a moment memory was baffled by the sight of the elegant young lady, but a second glance revealed the well-known features--the arched brows and kitten-like chin.

For the rest, the hazel eyes were as clear and loving as ever, and the old mischievous gleam shone through the tears.

"Is it Mariquita?" he cried, and Peggy stood on tiptoe to kiss his cheek, and hung on to the lapels of his coat, saying tremulously:

"No, it's Peggy! I never was Mariquita, you know, unless I was going to be scolded in the study; and you couldn't possibly scold me the first day. Are you half as pleased to see me as I am to be back again?"

"G.o.d bless you, child!" he said softly, and laid a tender hand on her cheek. The bud had blossomed into a flower; the little school-girl whom he had loved so well had grown into a woman, and her early grace and charm were sweet in the old man's sight. He thanked G.o.d for them, as he thanked Him for all beautiful things--the sunshine which gave colour to the flowers, the green restfulness of the land, the song of the birds in the trees. "You are very welcome, dear. It does me good to see you among us once again."

"And looking so well. You are quite blooming, Peggy; and so smart as she is too! Deary, deary me, is that what they call the fashion?" cried Mrs Asplin, holding the girl in outstretched arms, and turning her slowly round and round, to take in the details of her attire. "You look so spruce, child, that I hardly knew you; but there, it won't be long, I expect, before the true Peggy peeps out. Come in, darling. There's a new rug in the hail; don't trip over it! We have been saying we needed it for five years back, but it was bought only last week, to smarten the house for your coming. Those are Esther's certificates in the corner, and you must see the new cretonne in the drawing-room. All the chairs are recovered. We finished them only last week."

"Tut, tut!" cried Peggy, and shook her head in dismay at such reckless extravagance. She had not had a chance of exchanging any further greeting with Rob than a smiling nod, while she and Esther cast curious glances at one another across the room, renewing the impressions of their first meeting. Peggy thought it one of the prettiest sights in the world to see Mrs Asplin hang on to the vicar's arm and drag him with her about the house, forgetful of everything but her instinctive desire to be near him in her rejoicing; the prettiest thing in the world to see the tenderness in his eyes. She looked at them mischievously, and then of a sudden her own eyes began to blink, for all those four years of absence had left their mark on the dear faces; they had changed as well as herself; but with them it was not the blossoming of the bud into the flower, it was rather the losing of those last leaves which had lingered from life's summer. The vicar's shoulders were more bowed; the lines on his face more deeply graven; his wife's hair had grown silvery about the temples, and the pathetic, tired look in the grey eyes must surely be permanent nowadays, since not even the excitement of meeting could chase it away. She was even sweeter-looking than of old, but had she always been so thin, so transparently delicate in colour? Do what she would, Peggy could not keep back her tears, and Mrs Asplin caught sight of them, and produced her own handkerchief in instant response.

"Ah, Peg, I know what you are thinking. The old home is not like itself without the boys. I feel it too, dear, I feel it too. Not a single boy would we have had in the place, if Rob had not taken pity on us, bless him! It seems so strange after having had so many of them all these years."

"It seems very quiet and peaceful, if you ask me! and if I'm _not_ a boy, I've been away, and I do think I deserve a little attention!" cried Mellicent, aggrieved. "If it had been Max who had come home, you wouldn't all be crying and moaning for the girls. You would forget there were such things in the world. It's not our fault that we happen to be girls, and we have our feelings all the same. No one speaks to me! No one says they are pleased to see me! No one makes the slightest fuss because I am home!"

"Darling!" cried her mother, and rushed to take her in her arms. "My precious baby, I'm just delighted to have you back; but you know how it is--the thought of old times made me sad for the moment. We seemed such a small party without the boys."

Mellicent grimaced and hitched her shoulders in petulant fashion. Then she looked at Peggy, and a flash of amus.e.m.e.nt pa.s.sed from eye to eye.

"Let's have tea!" she said shortly. "It's good for the spirits, and we are both hungry. It's to be in the schoolroom, I suppose, mother, as we asked. Peggy died to have tea there again, and was so afraid that it would be laid out in style in the drawing-room that she made me ask you to have it exactly the same as in the old times. I told her it was no use, that you would have out all the best things, whatever we said."

"But you didn't, Mrs Asplin, did you? There are halfpenny buns, aren't there, and scones, and damson jam, and the old thick cups and saucers?"

"Bless me, no, child! The very best china; cakes from Buzzard's, with icing on the top, strawberries and cream, and every luxury you can imagine. The schoolroom, yes; but you don't suppose I'd feed my prodigal on halfpenny buns! Come and see all the good things that are waiting;" and Mrs Asplin led the way towards the schoolroom, with the complacent air of a housekeeper who has reason to be satisfied with her preparations, while the two girls followed with elbows in suspiciously close proximity. Another moment and the door was thrown open, when Mrs Asplin immediately gave a shriek of surprise, and fell p.r.o.ne against the wall. There stood the long table, set out with flowers and silver, and, in the centre seat, sat a handsome frock-coated figure, with every dish and plate of edibles ma.s.sed around him in a solid circle of temptation.

The silver cake-basket was in the centre, plates of scones, macaroons, and biscuits bordered each side; while the interstices were filled in with bowls containing jam and fruit. On his own plate there were piled at one and the same moment, a meringue, a slice of plum cake, two biscuits, and a jam tart, and, in default of tea, he had filled his cup from the cream jug, and was even at this moment wiping the tell-tale drops from his moustache.

"That blessed boy!" cried Mrs Asplin, clasping her hands in delight.

"There never was any one like him. He guessed how I should feel--he always _did_ guess! I might have known that he would come. But how?

When? Where? He was not in the carriage with the girls."

"Got out at the gate, mater, and came in at the window. Wanted to get a start of you all at tea," said Arthur, coming forward, serviette in hand, to receive the kiss and hug of welcome which he was never too old to enjoy. He had divined that Peggy's advent would make the gap in the household even more felt than usual, and his kindly instinct had been to fill that gap as much as possible; but no other reason would he acknowledge for his presence than the necessity of escorting two frivolous young women who could not be trusted to take a journey on their own account, and his hosts were too full of delight at his appearance to dispute the point.

"Second fiddle!" sighed Peggy with a shrug. "It's meself that's second fiddle this moment, when 'twas the whole orchestra I expected to be.