As Peg wandered into the room Mrs. Chichester and Alaric looked at her in horrified amazement.
Ethel took one swift glance at her and then turned her attention to "Pet."
Jarvis looked reproachfully at Mrs. Chichester as much as to say: "What did I tell you?" and went out.
Alaric whispered to his mother:
"Oh, I say, really, you know—it isn't true! It CAN'T be."
"Pet" suddenly saw "Michael" and began to bark furiously at him. "Michael" responded vigorously until Peg quieted him.
At this juncture Mr. Hawkes came forward and, taking Peg gently by the arm, reassured her by saying:
"Come here, my dear. Come here. Don't be frightened. We're all your friends."
He brought Peg over to Mrs. Chichester, who was staring at her with tears of mortification in her eyes. When Peg's eyes met her aunt's she bobbed a little curtsey she used to do as a child whenever she met a priest or some of the gentle folk.
Mrs. Chichester went cold when she saw the gauche act. Was it possible that this creature was her sister Angela's child? It seemed incredible.
"What is your name?" she asked sternly.
"Peg, ma'am."
"What?"
"Sure me name's Peg, ma'am," and she bobbed another little curtsey.
Mrs. Chichester closed her eyes and shivered. She asked Alaric to ring. As that young gentleman passed Ethel on his way to the bell he said: "It can't really be true! Eh, Ethel?"
"Quaint," was all his sister replied.
Hawkes genially drew Peg's attention to her aunt by introducing her:
"This lady is Mrs. Chichester—your aunt." Peg looked at her doubtfully a moment then turned to Hawkes and asked him:
"Where's me uncle?"
"Alas! my dear child, your uncle is dead."
"Dead!" exclaimed Peg in surprise. "Afther sendin' for me?"
"He died just before you sailed," added Hawkes.
"God rest his soul," said Peg piously. "Sure if I'd known that I'd never have come at all. I'm too late, then. Good day to yez," and she started for the door.
Mr. Hawkes stopped her.
"Where are you going?"
"Back to me father."
"Oh, nonsense."
"But I must go back to me father if me uncle's dead."
"It was Mr. Kingsnorth's last wish that you should stay here under your aunt's care. So she has kindly consented to give you a home."
Peg gazed at Mrs. Chichester curiously.
"Have yez?" she asked.
Mrs. Chichester, with despair in every tone, replied: "I have!"
"Thank yez," said Peg, bobbing another little curtsey, at which Mrs. Chichester covered her eyes with her hand as if to shut out some painful sight.
Peg looked at Mrs. Chichester and at the significant action. There was no mistaking its significance. It conveyed dislike and contempt so plainly that Peg felt it through her whole nature. She turned to Alaric and found him regarding her as though she were some strange animal. Ethel did not deign to notice her. And this was the family her father had sent her over to England to be put in amongst. She whispered to Hawkes:
"I can't stay here."
"Why not?" asked the lawyer.
"I'd be happier with me father," said Peg.
"Nonsense. You'll be quite happy here. Quite."
"They don't seem enthusiastic about us, do they?" and she looked down at "Michael" and up at Hawkes and indicated the Chichester family, who had by this time all turned their backs on her. She smiled a wan, lonely smile, and with a little pressure on "Michael's" back, murmured: "We're not wanted here, 'Michael!'"
The terrier looked up at her and then buried his head under her arm as though ashamed.
Jarvis came in response to the ring at that moment, bearing a pained, martyr-like expression on his face.
Mrs. Chichester directed him to take away Peg's parcels and the dog.
Peg frightenedly clutched the terrier.
"Oh, no, ma'am," she pleaded. "Plaze lave 'Michael' with me. Don't take him away from me."
"Take it away," commanded Mrs. Chichester severely, "and never let it INSIDE the house again."
"Well, if ye don't want HIM inside yer house ye don't want ME inside yer house," Peg snapped back.
Hawkes interposed. "Oh, come, come, Miss O'Connell, you can see the little dog whenever you want to," and he tried to take "Michael" out of her arms. "Come, let me have him."
But Peg resisted. She was positive when she said:
"No, I won't give him up. I won't. I had a hard enough time gettin' him ashore, I did."
Hawkes pleaded again.
"No," said Peg firmly. "I WILL NOT GIVE HIM UP. And that's all there is about it."
The lawyer tried again to take the dog from her: "Come, Miss O'Connell, you really must be reasonable."
"I don't care about being reasonable," replied Peg. "'Michael' was given to me by me father an' he's not very big and he's not a watchdog, he's a pet dog—and look—" She caught sight of Ethel's little poodle and with a cry of self-justification, she said:
"See, she has a dog in the house—right here in the house. Look at it!" and she pointed to where the little ball of white wool lay sleeping on Ethel's lap. Then Peg laughed heartily: "I didn't know what it was until it MOVED."
Peg finally weakened under Mr. Hawkes' powers of persuasion and on the understanding that she could see him whenever she wanted to, permitted the lawyer to take "Michael" out of her arms and give him to the disgusted footman, who held him at arm's length in mingled fear and disgust.
Then Hawkes took the bag and the parcels and handed them also to Jarvis. One of them burst open, disclosing her father's parting gifts. She kept the rosary and the miniature, and wrapping up the others carefully she placed them on the top of the other articles in the outraged Jarvis's arms, and then gave him her final injunctions. Patting "Michael" on the head she said to the footman:
"Ye won't hurt him, will ye?"
"Michael" at that stage licked her hand and whined as though he knew they were to be separated. Peg comforted him and went on: "And I'd be much obliged to ye if ye'd give him some wather and a bone. He loves mutton bones."
Jarvis, with as much dignity as he could assume, considering that he had one armful of shabby parcels and the other hand holding at arm's length a disgraceful looking mongrel, went out, almost on the verge of tears.
Peg looked down and found Alaric sitting at a desk near the door staring at her in disgust.
He was such a funny looking little fellow to Peg that she could not feel any resentment toward him. His sleek well-brushed hair; his carefully creased and admirably-cut clothes; his self-sufficiency; and above all his absolute assurance that whatever he did was right, amused Peg immensely. He was an entirely new type of young man to her and she was interested. She smiled at him now in a friendly way and said: "Ye must know 'Michael' is simply crazy about mutton. He LOVES mutton."
Alaric turned indignantly away from her. Peg followed him up. He had begun to fascinate her. She looked at his baby-collar with a well-tied bow gleaming from the centre; at his pointed shoes; his curious, little, querulous look. He was going to be good fun for Peg. She wanted to begin at once. And she would have too, not the icy accents of Mrs. Chichester interrupted Peg's plans for the moment.
"Come here," called Mrs. Chichester.
Peg walked over to her and when she got almost beside the old lady she turned to have another glimpse at Alaric and gave him a little, chuckling, good-natured laugh.
"Look at ME!" commanded Mrs. Chichester sternly.
"Yes, ma'am," replied Peg, with a little curtsey. Mrs. Chichester closed her eyes for a moment. What was to be done with this barbarian? Why should this affliction be thrust upon her? Then she thought of the thousand pounds a year. She opened her eyes and looked severely at Peg.
"Don't call me 'ma'am'!" she said.
"No, ma'am," replied Peg nervously, then instantly corrected herself: "No, ANT! No, ANT!"
"AUNT!" said Mrs. Chichester haughtily. "AUNT. Not ANT."
Alaric commented to Ethel:
"ANT! Like some little crawly insect."
Peg heard him, looked at him and laughed. He certainly was odd. Then she looked at Ethel, then at Mr. Hawkes, then all round the room as if she missed someone. Finally she faced Mrs. Chichester again.
"Are you me Uncle Nat's widdy?"
"No, I am not," contradicted the old lady sharply.
"Then how are you me—AUNT?" demanded Peg.
"I am your mother's sister," replied Mrs. Chichester.
"Oh!" cried Peg. "Then your name's Monica?"
"It is."
"What do ye think of that?" said Peg under her breath. She surreptitiously opened out the miniature and looked at it, then she scrutinised her aunt. She shook her head.
"Ye don't look a bit like me poor mother did."
"What have you there?" asked Mrs. Chichester.
"Me poor mother's picture," replied Peg softly.
"Let me see it!" and Mrs. Chichester held out her hand for it. Peg showed it to Mrs. Chichester, all the while keeping a jealous hold on a corner of the frame. No one would ever take it away from her. The old lady looked at it intently. Finally she said:
"She had changed very much since I last saw her—and in one year."
"Sorrow and poverty did that, Aunt Monica," and the tears sprang unbidden into Peg's eyes.
"AUNT will be quite sufficient. Put it away," and Mrs. Chichester released the miniature.
Peg hid it immediately in her bosom.
"Sit down," directed the old lady in the manner of a judge preparing to condemn a felon.
Peg sprawled into a chair with a great sigh of relief.
"Thank ye, ant—AUNT," she said. Then she looked at them all alternately and laughed heartily:
"Sure I had no idea in the wurrld I had such fine relations. Although of course my father often said to me, 'Now, Peg,' he would say, 'now, Peg, ye've got some grand folks on yer mother's side'—"
"Folks! Really—Ethel!" cried Alaric disgustedly.
"Yes, that's what he said. Grand FOLKS on me mother's side."
Mrs. Chichester silenced Peg.
"That will do. Don't sprawl in that way. Sit up. Try and remember where you are. Look at your cousin," and the mother indicated Ethel. Peg sat up demurely and looked at Ethel. She chuckled to herself as she turned back to Mrs. Chichester:
"Is she me cousin?"
"She is," replied the mother.
"And I am too," said Alaric. "Cousin Alaric."
Peg looked him all over and laughed openly. Then she turned to Ethel again, and then looked all around the room and appeared quite puzzled. Finally she asked Mrs. Chichester the following amazing question:
"Where's her husband?"
Ethel sprang to her feet. The blow was going to fall. She was to be disgraced before her family by that beggar-brat. It was unbearable.
Mrs. Chichester said in astonishment: "Her HUSBAND?"
"Yes," replied Peg insistently. "I saw her husband when I came in here first. I've been in this room before, ye know. I came in through those windows and I saw, her and her husband, she was—"
"What in heaven's name does she mean?" cried Alaric.
Peg persisted: "I tell ye it was SHE sent me to the kitchen—she and HIM."
"Him? Who in the world does she mean?" from Alaric.
"To whom does she refer, Ethel?" from Mrs. Chichester.
"Mr. Brent," said Ethel with admirable self-control. She was on thin ice, but she must keep calm. Nothing may come out yet if only she can silence that little chatterbox.
Alaric burst out laughing.
Mrs. Chichester looked relieved.
Peg went on:
"Sure, she thought I was a servant looking for a place and Mr. Hawkes told me not to say a word until he came—and I didn't say a word—" Mr. Hawkes now broke in and glancing at his watch said:
"My time, is short. Miss O'Connell, it was your uncle's wish that you should make your home here with Mrs. Chichester. She will give you every possible advantage to make you a happy, well-cared for, charming young lady."
Peg laughed.
"LADY? ME? Sure now—"
The lawyer went on:
"You must do everything she tells you. Try and please her in all things. On the first day of every month I will call and find out what progress you're making."
He handed Mrs. Chichester a card:
"This is my business address should you wish to communicate with me. And now I must take my leave." He picked up his hat and cane from the table.
Peg sprang up breathlessly and frightenedly. Now that Mr. Hawkes was going she felt deserted. He had at least been gentle and considerate to her. She tugged at his sleeve and looked straight up into his face with her big blue eyes wide open and pleaded:
"Plaze, sir, take me with ye and send me back to New York. I'd rather go home. Indade I would. I don't want to be a lady. I want me father. Plaze take me with you."
"Oh—come—come" Mr. Hawkes began.
"I want to go back to me father. Indade I do." Her eyes filled with tears. "He mightn't like me to stay here now that me uncle's dead."
"Why, it was your uncle's last wish that you should come here. Your father will be delighted at your good fortune." He gently pressed her back into the chair and smiled pleasantly and reassuringly down at her.
Just when he had negotiated everything most satisfactorily to have Peg endeavour to upset it all was most disturbing. He went on again: "Your aunt will do everything in her power to make you feel at home. Won't you, Mrs. Chichester?"
"Everything!" said Mrs. Chichester, as if she were walking over her own grave.
Peg looked at her aunt ruefully: her expression was most forbidding: at Ethel's expressive back; lastly at Alaric fitting a cigarette into a gold mounted holder. Her whole nature cried out against them. She made one last appeal to Mr. Hawkes:
"DO send me back to me father!"
"Nonsense, my dear Miss O'Connell. You would not disappoint your father in that way, would you? Wait for a month. I'll call on the first and I expect to hear only the most charming things about you. Now, good-bye," and he took her hand.
She looked wistfully up at him:
"Good-bye, sir. And thank ye very much for bein' so kind to me."
Hawkes bowed to Mrs. Chichester and Ethel and went to the door.
"Have a cab?" asked Alaric.
"No, thank you," replied the lawyer. "I have no luggage. Like the walk. Good-day," and Peg's only friend in England passed out and left her to face this terrible English family alone.
"Your name is Margaret," said Mrs. Chichester, as the door closed on Mr. Hawkes.
"No, ma'am—" Peg began, but immediately corrected herself; "no, aunt—I beg your pardon—no aunt—my name is Peg," cried she earnestly.
"That is only a CORRUPTION. We will call you Margaret," insisted Mrs. Chichester, dismissing the subject once and for all. But Peg was not to be turned so lightly aside. She stuck to her point.
"I wouldn't know myself as Margaret—indade I wouldn't. I might forget to answer to the name of Margaret." She stopped her pleading tone and said determinedly: "My name IS Peg." Then a little softer and more plaintively she added: "Me father always calls me Peg. It would put me in mind of me father if you'd let me be called Peg, aunt." She ended her plea with a little yearning cry.
"Kindly leave your father out of the conversation," snapped the old lady severely.
"Then it's all I will LAVE him out of!" cried Peg, springing up and confronting the stately lady of the house.
Mrs. Chichester regarded her in astonishment and anger.
"No TEMPER, if you please," and she motioned Peg to resume her seat.
Poor Peg sat down, breathing hard, her fingers locking and unlocking, her staunch little heart aching for the one human being she was told not to refer to.
This house was not going to hold her a prisoner if her father's name was to be slighted or ignored; on that point she was determined. Back to America she would go if her father's name was ever insulted before her. Mrs. Chichester's voice broke the silence:
"You must take my daughter as your model in all things."
Peg looked at Ethel and all her anger vanished temporarily. The idea of taking that young lady as a model appealed to her as being irresistibly amusing. She smiled broadly at Ethel. Mrs. Chichester went on:
"Everything my daughter does you must try and imitate. You could not have a better example. Mould yourself on her."
"Imitate her, is it?" asked Peg innocently with a twinkle in her eye and the suggestion of impishness in her manner.
"So far as lies in your power," replied Mrs. Chichester.
A picture of Ethel struggling in Brent's arms suddenly flashed across Peg, and before she could restrain herself she had said in exact imitation of her cousin:
"Please don't! It is so hot this morning!"
Then Peg laughed loudly to Ethel's horror and Mrs. Chichester's disgust.
"How dare you!" cried her aunt.
Peg looked at her a moment, all the mirth died away.
"Mustn't I laugh in this house?" she asked.
"You have a great deal to learn."
"Yes, aunt."
"Your education will begin to-morrow."
"Sure that will be foine," and she chuckled.
"No levity, if you please," said her aunt severely.
"No, aunt."
"Until some decent clothes can be procured for you we will find some from my daughter's wardrobe."
"Sure I've a beautiful dhress in me satchel I go to Mass in on Sundays. It's all silk, and—"
Mrs. Chichester stopped her:
"That will do. Ring, Alaric, please."
As Alaric walked over to press the electric button he looked at Peg in absolute disgust and entire disapproval. Peg caught the look and watched him go slowly across the room. He had the same morbid fascination for her that some uncanny elfish creature might have. If only her father could see him! She mentally decided to sketch Alaric and send it out to her father with a full description of him.
Mrs. Chichester again demanded her attention.
"You must try and realise that you have an opportunity few girls in your position are ever given. I only hope you will try and repay our interest and your late uncle's wishes by obedience, good conduct and hard study."
"Yes, aunt," said Peg demurely. Then she added quickly: "I hope ye don't mind me not having worn me silk dress, but ye see I couldn't wear it on the steamer—it 'ud have got all wet. Ye have to wear yer thravellin' clothes when ye're thravellin'."
"That will do," said Mrs. Chichester sharply.
"Well, but I don't want ye to think me father doesn't buy me pretty clothes. He's very proud of me, an' I am of him—an'—"
"That will do," commanded Mrs. Chichester as Jarvis came in reply to the bell.
"Tell Bennett to show my niece to the Mauve Room and to attend her," said Mrs. Chichester to the footman. Then turning to Peg she dismissed her.
"Go with him."
"Yes, aunt," replied Peg. "An' I am goin' to thry and do everythin' ye want me to. I will, indade I will."
Her little heart was craving for some show of kindness. If she was going to stay there she would make the best of it. She would make some friendly advances to them. She held her hand out to Mrs. Chichester:
"I'm sure I'm very grateful to you for taking me to live with yez here. An' me father will be too. But ye see it's all so strange to me here, an' I'm so far away—an' I miss me father so much."
Mrs. Chichester, ignoring the outstretched hand, stopped her peremptorily:
"Go with him!" and she pointed up the stairs, on the first landing of which stood the portly Jarvis waiting to conduct Peg out of the family's sight.
Peg dropped a little curtsey to Mrs. Chichester, smiled at Ethel, looked loftily at Alaric, then ran up the stairs and, following the footman's index finger pointing the way, she disappeared from Mrs. Chichester's unhappy gaze.
The three tortured people looked at each other in dismay.
"Awful!" said Alaric.
"Terrible!" agreed Mrs. Chichester.
"Dreadful!" nodded Ethel.
"It's our unlucky day, mater!" added Alaric. "One thing is absolutely necessary," Mrs. Chichester went on to say, "she must be kept away from every one for the present."
"I should say so!" cried Alaric energetically. Suddenly he ejaculated: "Good Lord! Jerry! HE mustn't see her. He'd laugh his head off at the idea of my having a relation like her. He'll probably run in to lunch."
"Then she must remain in her room until he's gone," said Mrs. Chichester, determinedly. "I'll go into town now and order some things for her and see about tutors. She must be taught and at once."
"Why put up with this annoyance at all?" asked Ethel, for the first time showing any real interest.
Mrs. Chichester put her arm around Ethel and a gentle look came into her eyes as she said:
"One thousand pounds a year—that is the reason—and rather than you or Alaric should have to make any sacrifice, dear, or have any discomfort, I would put up with worse than that."
Ethel thought a moment before she replied reflectively:
"Yes, I suppose you would. I wouldn't," and she went up the stairs. When she was little more than half way up Alaric, who had been watching her nervously, called to her:
"Where are you off to, Ethel?"
She looked down at him and a glow, all unsuspected, came into her eyes and a line of colour ran through her cheeks, and there was an unusual tremor in her voice, as she replied:
"To try to make up my mind, if I can, about something. The coming of PEG may do it for me."
She went on out of sight.
Alaric was half-inclined to follow her. He knew she was taking their bad luck to heart withal she said so little. He was really quite fond of Ethel in a selfish, brotherly way. But for the moment he decided to let Ethel worry it out alone while he would go to the railway station and meet his friend's train. He called to his mother as she passed through the door:
"Wait a minute, mater, and I'll go with you as far as the station-road and see if I can head Jerry off. His train is almost due if it's punctual."
He was genuinely concerned that his old chum should not meet that impossible little red-headed Irish heathen whom an unkind fate had dropped down in their midst.
At the hall-door Mrs. Chichester told Jarvis that her niece was not to leave her room without permission.
As Mrs. Chichester and Alaric passed out they little dreamt that the same relentless fate was planning still further humiliations for the unfortunate family and through the new and unwelcome addition to it.
All books are sourced from Project Gutenberg