"Why, how do you do, Sir Gerald?" and Hawkes went across quickly with outstretched hand.
"Hello, Hawkes," replied Jerry, too preoccupied to return the act of salutation. Instead, he nodded in the direction Peg had gone and questioned:
"What does she mean—going in a few minutes?"
"She is returning to America. Our term of guardianship is over."
"How's that?"
"She absolutely refuses to stay here any longer. My duties in regard to her, outside of the annual payment provided by her late uncle, end to-day," replied the lawyer.
"I think not, Hawkes."
"I beg your pardon?"
"As the Chief Executor of the late Mr. Kingsnorth's will, I must be satisfied that its conditions are complied with in the SPIRIT as well as to the LETTER," said Jerry, authoritatively.
"Exactly," was the solicitor's reply. "And—?"
"Mr. Kingsnorth expressly stipulated that a year was to elapse before any definite conclusion was arrived at. So far only a month has passed."
"But she insists on returning to her father!" protested Mr. Hawkes.
"Have you told her the conditions of the will?"
"Certainly not. Mr. Kingsnorth distinctly stated she was not to know them."
"Except under exceptional circumstances. I consider the circumstances most exceptional."
"I am afraid I cannot agree with you, Sir Gerald."
"That is a pity. But it doesn't alter my intention."
"And may I ask what that intention is?"
"To carry out the spirit of Mr. Kingsnorth's bequest."
"And what do you consider the spirit?"
"I think we will best carry out Mr. Kingsnorth's last wishes by making known the conditions of his bequest to Miss O'Connell and then let her decide whether she wishes to abide by them or not."
"As the late Mr. Kingsnorth's legal adviser, I must strongly object to such a course," protested the indignant lawyer.
"All the same, Mr. Hawkes, I feel compelled to take it, and I must ask you to act under my instructions."
"Really," exclaimed Mr. Hawkes; "I should much prefer to resign from my executorship."
"Nonsense. In the interests of all parties, we must act together and endeavour to carry out the dead man's wishes."
The lawyer considered a moment and then in a somewhat mollified tone, said:
"Very well, Sir Gerald. If you think it is necessary, why then by all means, I shall concur in your views."
"Thank you," replied the Chief Executor.
Mrs. Chichester came into the room and went straight to Jerry. At the same time, Alaric burst in through the garden and greeted Jerry and Hawkes.
"I heard you were here—" began Mrs. Chichester.
Jerry interrupted her anxiously: "Mrs. Chichester, I was entirely to blame for last night's unfortunate business. Don't visit your displeasure on the poor little child. Please don't."
"I've tried to tell her that I'll overlook it. But she seems determined to go. Can you suggest anything that might make her stay? She seems to like you—and after all—as you so generously admit—it was—to a certain extent your fault."
Before Jerry could reply, Jarvis came down the stairs with a pained—not to say mortified—expression on his face. Underneath his left arm he held tightly a shabby little bag and a freshly wrapped up parcel: in his right hand, held far away from his body, was the melancholy and picturesque terrier—"Michael."
Mrs. Chichester looked at him in horror.
"Where are you going with those—THINGS?" she gasped.
"To put them in a cab, madam," answered the humiliated footman. "Your niece's orders."
"Put those articles in a travelling-bag—use one of my daughter's," ordered the old lady.
"Your niece objects, madam. She sez she'll take nothing away she didn't bring with her."
The grief-stricken woman turned away as Jarvis passed out. Alaric tried to comfort her. But the strain of the morning had been too great. Mrs. Chichester burst into tears.
"Don't weep, mater. Please don't. It can't be helped. We've all done our best. I know I have!" and Alaric put his mother carefully down on the lounge and sat beside her on the arm. He looked cheerfully at Jerry and smiled as he said:
"I even offered to marry her if she'd stay. Couldn't do more than that, could I?"
Hawkes listened intently.
Jerry returned Alaric's smile as he asked: "YOU offered to marry her?"
Alaric nodded:
"Poor little wretch. Still I'd have gone through with it."
"And what did she say?" queried Jerry.
"First of all she laughed in my face—right in my face—the little beggar!"
Hawkes frowned gloomily as though at some painful remembrance.
"And after she had concluded her cachinnatory outburst, she coolly told me she would rather have 'MICHAEL.' She is certainly a remarkable little person and outside of the inconvenience of having her here, we should all be delighted to go on taking care of her. And if dancing is the rock we are going to split on, let us get one up every week for her. Eh, Jerry? You'd come, wouldn't you?"
Down the stairs came Peg and Ethel. Peg was holding one of Ethel's hands tightly. There seemed to be a thorough understanding between them. Peg was dressed in the same little black suit she wore when she first entered the Chichester family and the same little hat.
They all looked at her in amazement, amusement, interrogation and disgust respectively.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ethel stopped Peg and entreated:
"Don't go!"
"I must. There's nothin' in the wurrld 'ud kape me here now. Nothin'!"
"I'll drive with you to the station. May I?" asked Ethel.
"All right, dear." Peg crossed over to Mrs. Chichester:
"Good-bye, aunt. I'm sorry I've been such a throuble to ye."
The poor lady looked at Peg through misty eyes and said reproachfully:
"WHY that dress? Why not one of the dresses I gave you?"
"This is the way I left me father, an' this is the way I'm goin' back to him!" replied Peg sturdily. "Goodbye, Cousin Alaric," and she laughed good-naturedly at the odd little man. In spite of everything he did, he had a spice of originality about him that compelled Peg to overlook what might have seemed to others unpardonable priggishness.
"Good-bye—little devil!" cried Alaric, cheerfully taking the offered hand. "Good luck to ye. And take care of yerself," added Alaric, generously.
As Peg turned away from him, she came face to face with Jerry—or as she kept calling him in her brain by his new name—to her—Sir Gerald Adair. She dropped her eyes and timidly held out her hand:
"Good-bye!" was all she said.
"You're not going, Peg," said Jerry, quietly and positively.
"Who's goin' to stop me?"
"The Chief Executor of the late Mr. Kingsnorth's will."
"An' who is THAT?"
"'Mr. Jerry,' Peg!"
"YOU an executor?"
"I am. Sit down—here in our midst—and know why you have been here all the past month."
As he forced Peg gently into a chair, Mrs. Chichester and Alaric turned indignantly on him. Mr. Hawkes moved down to listen, and, if necessary, advise.
There was pleasure showing on one face only—on Ethel's.
She alone wanted Peg to understand her position in that house.
Since the previous night the real womanly note awakened in Ethel.
Her heart went out to Peg.
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