Peg O' My Heart Part 60

"Don't say that," Jerry interrupted. "There's an obstinate bad something in me that holds me back every time I want to go forward.

Sometimes the good little somethin' tries so hard to win, but the bad bates it. It just bates it, it does."

"What you call the bad is the cry of youth that resents being curbed: and the GOOD is the WOMAN in you struggling for an outlet," explained Jerry.

"Will you help me to give it an outlet, Mr. Jerry?"

"In any way in my power, Peg."

As they stood looking at each other the momentary something was trembling on both their lips and beating in both of their hearts. The something--old as time, yet new as birth--that great trans.m.u.ter of affection into love, of hope into faith. It had come to them--yet neither dared speak.

Peg read his silence wrongly. She blushed to the roots of her hair and her heart beat fast with shame. She laughed a deliberately misleading laugh and, looking up roguishly at him, said, her eyes dancing with apparent mischief, though the tear lurked behind the lid:

"Thank ye for promisin' to help me, Misther Jerry. But would ye mind very much if the BAD little somethin' had one more SPURT before I killed it altogether? Would ye?"

"Why, how do you mean?"

"Take me to that dance tonight--even without me aunt's permission, will ye? I'll never forget ye for it if ye will. An' it'll be the last wrong thing I'll ever do. I'm just burnin' all over at the thought of it. My heart's burstin' for it." She suddenly hummed a waltz refrain and whirled around the room, the incarnation of childish abandonment.

Mrs. Chichester came slowly down the stairs, gazing in horror at the little bouncing figure. As Peg whirled past the newel post she caught sight of her aunt. She stopped dead.

"What does this mean?" asked Mrs. Chichester angrily.

Peg crept away and sank down into a chair:

Jerry came to the rescue. He shook hands with Mrs. Chichester and said:

"I want you to do something that will make the child very happy. Will you allow her to go to a dance at the a.s.sembly Rooms tonight?"

"Certainly not," replied Mrs. Chichester severely. "I am surprised at you for asking such a thing."

"I could have told ye what she'd say wurrd for wurrd!" muttered Peg.

"I beg your pardon," said Jerry, straightening up, hurt at the old lady's tone. "The invitation was also extended to your daughter, but she declined. I thought you might be pleased to give your niece a little pleasure."

"Go to a dance--unchaperoned?"

"My mother and sisters will be there."

"A child of her age?" said Mrs. Chichester.

"CHILD is it?" cried Peg vehemently. "I'd have ye know my father lets me go anywhere--"

"MARGARET!" and the old lady attempted to silence Peg with a gesture.

Peg changed her tone and pleaded:

"Plaze let me go. I'll study me head off tomorrow, if ye'll only let me dance me feet off a bit tonight. Plaze let me!"

The old lady raised her band commanding Peg to stop. Then turning to Jerry she said in a much softer tone:

"It was most kind of you to trouble to come over. You must pardon me if I seem ungracious--but it is quite out of the question."

Peg sprang up, eager to argue it out.

Jerry looked at her as if imploring her not to anger her aunt any further. He shook Mrs. Chichester's hand and said:

"I'm sorry. Good night." He picked up his hat and coat and went to the door.

"Kindly remember me to your mother and sisters," added Mrs. Chichester gently.

"With pleasure," and Jerry opened the door.

"Good night, Misther Jerry," called Peg.

He turned and saw Peg deliberately pointing to the pathway and indicating that he was to meet her there.

Mrs. Chichester happened to look around just in time to catch her. Peg reddened and stood trapped.

Jerry went out.

The old lady looked at her for several moments without speaking.

Finally she asked:

"What did you mean by dancing in that disgraceful way? And what did you mean by those signs you were making?"

Peg said nothing.

"Are you always going to be a disgrace to us? Are you ever going to learn how to behave?"

"Yes, aunt," said Peg, and the words came out in a torrent. "I'm never goin' to do anythin' agen to annoy ye--AFTHER TONIGHT. I'm goin' to wurrk hard too--AFTHER TONIGHT. Don't ye see what a disadvantage I'd be at with girls without half me intelligence if I don't? Don't ye see it?

_I_ do. I'd be ashamed--that's what I'd be. Well--I'm goin' afther them tooth and nail an' I'm goin' to catch them up an' pa.s.s them an' then he'll--YE'LL--YE'LL--be proud of me--that ye will."

"What is all this?" asked the amazed old lady.

"It's what I'm goin' to do--AFTHER TO-NIGHT."

"I'm very glad to hear it."

"I knew ye would be. An' I'll never be any more throuble to ye--afther to-night."

"I hope you will be of the same mind in the morning."

"So do I, aunt. D'ye mind if I stay up for another hour? I'd like to begin now."

"Begin what?"

"Tryin' to pa.s.s people--tooth an' nail. May I study for just one more hour?"

"Very well. Just an hour."