Peggy Part 6

"Oh, come along, and don't talk flummery to me; you know I can't stand it."

The two pa.s.sed on, and Peggy's ears burned uncomfortably. Evidently Vivia Varnham had taken a violent dislike to her; well, she certainly returned it. And of course that would prevent her from ever seeing much of the other, sweet pretty thing. Well, of course she should have to be alone most of the time. She went to the window again, and saw the two V's climbing in; then there was a great shouting and waving of handkerchiefs, and they drove away. Peggy sighed, and sat down once more to her task. It was rhetoric, and her whole nature cried out against it; but the study was prescribed, and the teacher, Miss Pugsley, was reported to be very strict. Peggy put her elbows on the table, and her head on her hands, and bent in good earnest over the book.

"'Both prepositions and conjunctions are called connectives.'

"Oh, dear! then why can't we _call_ them connectives, and have one word to remember, instead of three?

"'When I say the hen barks'--why, that makes nonsense! Oh, I got two lines mixed up. 'When I say the dog barks, I speak of some particular dog.' Well, anybody can see that. Oh, I do wonder if Flora will remember to wash Peter's ear, where he had the canker! It was almost well, but still it will need washing. Dear Peter! dear dogs! they will miss me, I know they will. If one could only have a dog here, it wouldn't be half so bad. I could have a basket for him to sleep in, you know, and then in the morning he would get up on the bed, and we'd have a beautiful time.

There's a dog barking now! He wants to be let in, poor dear! How perfectly idiotic some people are, not to know what a dog wants. I remember that stupid man at home beating poor Peter,--beating him with a hoe, when all the time Peter was telling him that a tramp was stealing the melons. Yes; but when Petie saw that the man was an idiot, he went and attended to the tramp himself, and you never saw a tramp so scared in your life. Oh, dear! well!

"'He was in the room, and went out of it.' I wish I could go out of this room; but I don't know where I should go to. Bertha went, of course, with the others. If it wasn't for Bertha, I really don't think I could possibly stay here."

A knock at the door; and Bertha's square, cheerful face looked in. "Any chance to study here? there's something the matter with my lamp, why,--Peggy!"

For Peggy had jumped up and thrown her arms around her friend's neck, and given her a hug which took her breath.

"Oh, you dear!" cried Peggy. "I never was so glad to see anybody in my life. Here, take this chair, Bertha. Oh, it was just lovely of you to come in. You knew I would be forlorn, I know that was why you came. But why didn't you go on the straw-ride? I supposed of course you had gone."

"One question at a time," pleaded Bertha; "and I can't answer any if you destroy my breathing apparatus, Hippolyta."

"Why Hippolyta?"

"Oh; she was Queen of the Amazons, don't you know? Only because you are so strong, my dear."

"No," said Peggy, dolefully. "I never heard of her. Margaret would know, but I am awfully stupid, I told you I was. Do you have rhetoric, Bertha?"

"Not this year. I had it the first two years. It's not so bad; in fact, I was rather fond of it."

Peggy gazed at her in such unfeigned amazement that Bertha could not help laughing; but there was never any sneer in Bertha's laugh. "Come!"

she said. "Now we'll sit down and study our prettiest. See! I have a lot of Greek to do. Peggy, don't look like that! What is the matter?"

Peggy had recoiled in horror, her blue eyes opened to their widest extent.

"Greek!" she cried. "You don't--I sha'n't have to take Greek, shall I?

because I would rather die, and I should die!"

"Nonsense! no, I don't know that you will have to take it at all. What course have you taken,--scientific? Oh, no, you don't have Greek in that. What have you had to-day?"

"Geometry! Of course that was splendid."

"Oh, indeed! was it?"

"Why, yes; I just love geometry. I could do it all day, but we only have it one hour." And Peggy looked injured.

"Well," said Bertha, "you are a queer girl, Peggy Montfort. But there'll be one happy person in this school, and that is Miss Boyle."

"I don't understand you! Don't most girls,--don't you like geometry, Bertha?"

"My dear, I regard everything in the shape of mathematics with terror and disgust. I don't know any geometry, nor any algebra. I've been through them both, and the more I learned, the more I didn't know. As to arithmetic, I know that four quarts make a gallon, and that really is all my mind is equal to. But if you won't let me study my Greek, Peggy, I shall go home again to the Nest."

"Oh, I do! I will!" cried poor Peggy; and there was silence for a time, both girls studying in earnest, the silence only broken by the turning of a page, or a heartfelt sigh from Peggy as she dealt with parts of speech.

So thoroughly were they absorbed in their task that they did not hear sundry noises outside the window. The window was open, for the night was warm as well as bright; indeed, the upper half of it was pushed entirely down, so that it was like a double half-door of gla.s.s. Outside this window was the black skeleton of the fire-escape; and if the two girls had been on the alert, they might have heard various un.o.btrusive sounds from this direction. As it was, they both started violently when a clear voice addressed them in quiet and thoughtful tones.

"Peace to this dwelling!" said the voice.

Peggy looked up hastily. There, leaning on the window-sash, as calm and composed as she had been at the top of the rope, was the stranger with the melancholy eyes and the Madonna braids.

"Peace!" she repeated. "Piece of pie! have some!" She held out a large segment of pie, and added, "Any admittance for the Goat?"

Peggy was still too startled to find breath to answer, but Bertha sprang up, crying, "Grace! how could you frighten us so?"

"Not Grace!" said the stranger, with an unmoved countenance. "Goat! let us not deceive the Innocent! A scapegrace is one thing, a scapegoat is another, and from some points a preferable one. But the Innocent is abroad, I perceive. Innocent, I am the Scapegoat. Is there admittance?"

"Oh!" gasped Peggy, blushing and faltering. "Oh, please come in! I--I didn't know you were waiting for me to-- Sha'n't I open it from the bottom?"

"If you will take the pie," said the stranger, gravely; "thank you; that is your piece, this is mine,--already bitten, or I would offer it to the Fluffy."

Relieved of two large pieces of pie, she laid one hand on the sash, and vaulted lightly over; then she shook hands solemnly with Peggy, took her own piece of pie, and, seating herself on the floor, proceeded to eat it daintily.

"It is a good pie!" she said. "If not afraid of pollution, Fluffy, a bite?"

Bertha was looking half amused, half angry. "Grace, how can you act so?"

she said.

"How?" said Grace. "My sweet child, it is as easy as breathing. I will give instruction at any time, without charge."

"I thought you were doing double lessons," Bertha went on, "and being as good as gold. Grace, you can be so good!"

"Can't I!" said Grace; her tone was one of admiring gravity; her blue eyes kept their look of pensive sadness.

"And it's a thing I admire, goodness!" she went on, shaking her head.

"That's why I practise it. Double lessons? I'll warrant you! this is the second time I have been down here to-night, for example; other things in proportion." She waved her hand, and fell to again at her pie.

Peggy had been sitting open-eyed, watching this singular person, not knowing what to say. Now, however, meeting the solemn gaze of the large sad eyes, she felt compelled to speech.

"It--it's delicious!" she said, timidly. "Wouldn't you rather sit in a chair, Miss--" she hesitated, not liking to say "Grace."

"Oh, dear!" said Bertha, still put out. "You make me forget my manners and everything, Grace. Peggy, this is Miss Grace Wolfe; Grace, Miss Peggy Montfort."

"Charmed!" said Miss Wolfe. "But we have met before, Fluffy, or I should not have descended."

"We met, 'twas on a rope, And I thought she had done me; I felt, I could not feel, For my fate was upon me.

"If it hadn't been for your possession of peas, you would have beaten me, Miss Montfort. As it was, here's to our next meeting under the ceiling!" She took a large bite of pie, and regarded Peggy benevolently.

"Of peas?" repeated Peggy, vaguely, feeling that this might be English, but was not sense.

"Precisely. _Avoir du pois_, literally, to possess a pea! The French language. But you should have seen Vexation!" this strange person added, turning to Bertha. "Did see her? Well, she was a pleasant sight. Noxious animal, Vexation! It is a joy to see her taken down occasionally."