"Take care, mater—keep back. Let me deal with them." And Alaric with an electric flash-light appeared at the head of the stairs, followed by his mother holding a night-lamp high over her head, and peering down into the dark room. "It was from here that the sound came, dear," she said to Alaric.
"Stay up there," replied the valiant youth: "I'll soon find out what's up."
As Alaric reached the bottom of the stairs, the door just by the staircase opened noiselessly and a large body protruded into the room covered in an equally gigantic bath robe. As the face came stealthily through the doorway, Alaric made one leap and caught the invader by the throat.
A small, frightened voice cried out:
"Please don't do that, sir. It's only me!"
Alaric flashed the electric-light in the man's face and found it was the unfortunate Jarvis.
"What are you doing here?" asked Alaric.
"I heard a disturbance of some kind and came down after it, sir," replied Jarvis, nervously.
"Guard that door then! and let no one pass. If there is any one trespassing in here I want to find 'em."
He began a systematic search of the room until suddenly the reflector from the flash-light shone full on the two girls.
Ethel was sitting back fainting in a chair, clinging to Peg, who was standing beside her trembling.
"ETHEL!" cried Alaric in amazement.
"MARGARET!" said Mrs. Chichester in anger.
"Well, I mean to say," ejaculated the astounded young man as he walked across to the switch and flooded the room with light.
"That will do," ordered Mrs. Chichester, dismissing the equally astonished footman, who passed out, curiosity in every feature.
"What are you two girls playin' at?" demanded Alaric.
"What does this mean?" asked Mrs. Chichester severely.
"Sure, Ethel heard me here," answered Peg, "an' she came in, an'—"
"What were you doing here?"
"I was goin' out an' Ethel heard me an' came in an' stopped me—an'—"
"Where were you going?" persisted the old lady.
"Just out—out there—" and Peg pointed to the open windows.
Mrs. Chichester had been examining Peg minutely. She suddenly exclaimed:
"Why, that is Ethel's cloak."
"Sure it is," replied Peg, "and this is her hat I've got an' here's her bag—" Peg was striving her utmost to divert Mrs. Chichester's attention from Ethel, who was in so tense and nervous a condition that it seemed as if she might faint at any moment. She thrust the dressing-bag into the old lady's hand. Mrs. Chichester opened it immediately and found just inside it Ethel's jewel-box. She took it out and held it up accusingly before Peg's eyes: "Her jewel-box! Where did you get this?"
"I took it," said Peg promptly.
"Took it?"
"Yes, aunt, I took it!"
Mrs. Chichester opened the box: it was full. Every jewel that Ethel owned was in it.
"Her jewels! Ethel's jewels?"
"Yes—I took them too."
"You were STEALING them?"
"No. I wasn't STEALING them,—I just TOOK 'em!"
"Why did you take them?"
"I wanted—to WEAR them," answered Peg readily.
"WEAR them?"
"Yes—wear them." Suddenly Peg saw a way of escape, and she jumped quickly at it. "I wanted to wear them at the DANCE."
"WHAT dance?" demanded Mrs. Chichester, growing more suspicious every moment.
"Over there—in the Assembly Rooms. To-night. I went over there, an' I danced. An' when I came back I made a noise, an' Ethel heard me, an' she threw on some clothes, an' she came in here to see who it was, an' it was ME, an' were both goin' up to bed when I slipped an' fell down the stairs, an' some noisy thing fell down with me—an' that's all."
Peg paused for want of breath. Ethel clung to her. Mrs. Chichester, not by any means satisfied with the explanation, was about to prosecute her inquiries further, when Alaric called out from the window:
"There's some one prowling in the garden. He's on the path! He's coming here. Don't be frightened, mater. I'll deal with him." And he boldly went up the steps leading into the alcove to meet the marauder. Ethel half rose from the chair and whispered: "Mr. Brent!" Peg pressed her back into the chair and turned toward the windows.
On came the footsteps nearer and nearer until they were heard to be mounting the steps from the garden into the alcove.
Alaric pushed his electric light full into the visitors face, and fell back.
"Good Lord! Jerry!" he ejaculated, completely astonished. "I say, ye know," he went on, "what is happening in this house to-night?"
Jerry came straight down to Mrs. Chichester.
"I saw your lights go up and I came here on the run. I guessed something like this had happened. Don't be hard on your niece, Mrs. Chichester. The whole thing was entirely my fault. I asked her to go."
Mrs. Chichester looked at him stonily.
"You took my niece to a dance in spite of my absolute refusal to allow her to go?"
"He had nothin' to do with it;" said Peg, "I took him to that dance." She wasn't going to allow Jerry to be abused without lodging a protest. After all it was her fault. She made him take her. Very, well—she would take the blame. Mrs. Chichester looked steadily at Jerry for a few moments before she spoke. When she did speak her voice was cold and hard and accusatory.
"Surely, Sir Gerald Adair knows better than to take a girl of eighteen to a public ball without her relations' sanction?"
"I thought only of the pleasure it would give her," he answered. "Please accept my sincerest apologies."
Peg looked at him in wonder:
"Sir Gerald Adair! Are YOU Sir Gerald Adair?"
"Yes, Peg."
"So ye have a title, have yez?"
He did not answer.
Peg felt somehow that she had been cheated. Why had he not told her? Why did he let her play and romp and joke and banter with him as though they had been children and equals? It wasn't fair! He was just laughing, at her! Just laughing at her! All her spirit was in quick revolt.
"Do you realise what you have done?" broke in Mrs. Chichester.
"I'm just beginning to," replied Peg bitterly.
"I am ashamed of you! You have disgraced us all!" cried Mrs. Chichester.
"Have I?" screamed Peg fiercely. "Well, if I HAVE then I am goin' back to some one who'd never be ashamed o' me, no matter what I did. Here I've never been allowed to do one thing I've wanted to. He lets me do EVERYTHING I want because he loves and trusts me an' whatever I do is RIGHT because I do it. I've disgraced ye, have I? Well, none of you can tell me the truth. I'm goin' back to me father."
"Go back to your father and glad we are to be rid of you!" answered Mrs. Chichester furiously.
"I am goin' back to him—"
Before she could say anything further, Ethel suddenly rose unsteadily and cried out:
"Wait, mother! She mustn't go. We have all been grossly unfair to her. It is I should go. To-night she saved me from—she saved me from—" suddenly Ethel reached the breaking-point; she slipped from Peg's arms to the chair and on to the floor and lay quite still.
Peg knelt down beside her:
"She's fainted. Stand back—give her air—get some water, some smelling-salts—quick—don't stand there lookin' at her: do somethin'!"
Peg loosened Ethel's dress and talked to her all the while, and Jerry and Alaric hurried out in different directions in quest of restoratives.
Mrs. Chichester came toward Ethel, thoroughly alarmed and upset.
But Peg would not let her touch the inanimate girl.
"Go away from her!" cried Peg hysterically.
"What good do ye think ye can do her? What do you know about her? You don't know anything about yer children—ye don't know how to raise them. Ye don't know a thought in yer child's mind. Why don't ye sit down beside her sometimes and find out what she, thinks and who she sees? Take her hand in yer own and get her to open her soul to ye! Be a mother to her! A lot you know about motherhood! I want to tell ye me father knows more about motherhood than any man in the wurrld."
Poor Mrs. Chichester fell back, crushed and humiliated from Peg's onslaught.
In a few moments the two men returned with water and salts. After a while Ethel opened her eyes and looked up at Peg. Peg, fearful lest she should begin to accuse herself again, helped her up the stairs to her own room and there she sat beside the unstrung, hysterical girl until she slept, her hand locked in both of Peg's.
Promising to call in the morning, Jerry left.
The mother and son returned to their rooms.
The house was still again.
But how much had happened that night that went to shaping the characters and lives of these two young girls, who were first looking out at life with the eyes and minds of swiftly advancing womanhood! One thing Peg had resolved: she would not spend another night in the Chichester home.
Her little heart was bruised and sore. The night had begun so happily: it had ended so wretchedly.
And to think the one person in whom she trusted had been just amusing himself with her, leading her to believe he was a farmer—"less than that" he had once said, and all the time he was a man of breeding and of birth and of title.
Poor Peg felt so humiliated that she made up her mind she would never see him again.
In the morning she would go back to the one real affection of her life—to the min who never hurt or disappointed her—her father.
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