Part 6 (1/2)
”But it is you, Peggy--it really is!” Mellicent declared. ”There was no smell at all before you came into the room. I noticed it as soon as the door was opened, and when you came and sat down beside us--whew!
simply fearful!”
”I have taken _no_ medicine to-day,” repeated Peggy firmly. Then she started, as if with a sudden thought, lifted a lock of hair, sniffed at it daintily, and dropped it again with an air of conviction. ”Ah, I comprehend! There seems to have been a slight misunderstanding. I have mistaken the bottles. I imagined that I was using the mixture you gave me, but--”
”She has washed her hair in cough-mixture! Oh, oh, oh! She has mixed paregoric and treacle with the water! Oh, what will I do! what will I do! This child will be the death of me!” Mrs Asplin put her hand to her side, and laughed until the tears ran down her cheeks, while Mellicent rolled about on the floor, and Esther's quiet ”He, he, he!”
filled up the intervals between the bursts of merriment.
Peggy was marched off to have her hair re-washed and rinsed, and came back ten minutes later, proudly complacent, to seat herself in the most comfortable stool and eat roast apple with elegant enjoyment. She was evidently quite ready to enlarge upon her latest feat, but the sisters had exhausted the subject during her absence, and had, moreover, a piece of news to communicate which was of even greater interest.
”Oh, Peggy, what y'think?” cried Mellicent, running her words into each other in breathless fas.h.i.+on, as her habit was when excited; ”I've got something beautiful to tell you. S'afternoon Bob got a letter from his mother to say that they were all coming down next week to stay at the Larches for the winter. They come almost every year, and have shooting-parties, and come to church and sit in the big square pew, where you can just see their heads over the side. They look so funny, sitting in a row without their bodies. Last year there was a young lady with them who wore a big grey hat--the loveliest hat you ever saw--with roses under the brim, and stick-up things all glittering with jewels, and she got married at Christmas. I saw her photograph in a magazine, and knew her again in a moment. I used to stare at her, and once she smiled back at me. She looked sweet when she smiled. Lady Darcy always comes to call on mother, and she and father go there to dinner ever so many times, and we are asked to play with Rosalind--the Honourable Rosalind. I expect they will ask you to go too. Isn't it exciting?”
”I can bear it,” said Peggy coldly. ”If I try very hard, I think I can support the strain.”
The Larches, the country house of Lord Darcy, had already been pointed out to her notice; but the information that the family was coming down for the yearly visit was unwelcome to her, for a double reason. She feared, in the first place, lest it should mean a separation from Bob, who was her faithful companion, and fulfilled his promise of friends.h.i.+p in a silent, undemonstrative fas.h.i.+on, much to her fancy. In the second place, she was conscious of a rankling feeling of jealousy towards the young lady who was distinguished by the name of the Honourable Rosalind, and who seemed to occupy an exalted position in the estimation of the vicar's daughters. Her name was frequently introduced into conversation, and always in the most laudatory fas.h.i.+on. When a heroine was of a superlatively fascinating description, she was ”Just like Rosalind”; when an article of dress was unusually fine and dainty, it would ”do for Rosalind.” Rosalind was spoken of with bated breath, as if she were a princess in a fairy tale, rather than an ordinary flesh-and-blood damsel. And Peggy did not like it; she did not like it at all, for, in her own quiet way, she was accustomed to queen it among her a.s.sociates, and could ill brook the idea of a rival. She had not been happy at school, but she had been complacently conscious that of all the thirty girls she was the most discussed, the most observed, and also, among the pupils themselves, the most beloved. At the vicarage she was an easy first. When the three girls went out walking, she was always in the middle, with Esther and Mellicent hanging on an arm at either side. Robert was her sworn va.s.sal, and Max and Oswald her respectful and, on the whole, obedient servants. Altogether, the prospect of playing second fiddle to this strange girl was by no means pleasant. Peggy tilted her chin, and spoke in a cool, cynical tone.
”What is she like, this wonderful Rosalind? Bob does not seem to think her extraordinary. I cannot imagine a 'Miss Robert' being very beautiful, and as she is his sister, I suppose they are alike.”
Instantly there arose a duet of protests.
”Not in the least. Not a single bit. Rosalind is lovely! Blue eyes, golden hair--”
”Down past her waist--”
”The sweetest little hands--”
”A real diamond ring--”
”Pink cheeks--”
”Drives a pony-carriage, with long-tailed ponies--”
”Speaks French all day long with her governess--jabber, jabber, jabber, as quick as that--just like a native--”
”Plays the violin--”
”Has a lovely little sitting-room of her own, simply crammed with the most exquisite presents and books, and goes travelling abroad to France and Italy and hot places in winter. Lord and Lady Darcy simply wors.h.i.+p her, and so does everyone, for she is as beautiful as a picture. Don't you think it would be lovely to have a lord and lady for your father and mother?”
Peggy sniffed the air in scornful superiority.
”I am very glad I've not! t.i.tles are so ostentatious! Vulgar, I call them! The very best families will have nothing to do with them. My father's people were all at the Crusades, and the Wars of the Roses, and the Field of the Cloth of Gold. There is no older family in England, and they are called 'Fighting Savilles,' because they are always in the front of every battle, winning honours and distinctions. I expect they have been offered t.i.tles over and over again, but they would not have them. They refused them with scorn, and so would I if one were offered to me. Nothing would induce me to accept it!”
Esther rolled her eyes in a comical, sideway fas.h.i.+on, and gave a little chuckle of unbelief; but Mellicent looked quite depressed by this reception of her grand news, and said anxiously--
”But, Peggy, think of it! The Honourable Mariquita! It would be too lovely! Wouldn't you feel proud writing it in visitors' books, and seeing it printed in newspapers when you grow up? 'The Honourable Mariquita wore a robe of white satin, trimmed with gold!'”
”Peggy Saville is good enough for me, thank you,” said that young lady, with a sudden access of humility. ”I have no wish to have my clothes discussed in the public prints. But if you are invited to the Larches to play with your Rosalind, pray don't consider me! I can stay at home alone. I don't mind being dull. I can turn my time to good account.
Not for the world would I interfere with your pleasure?”
”But P-P-Peggy, dar-ling Peggy, we would not leave you alone!”
Mellicent's eyes were wide with horror, she stretched out entreating hands towards the unresponsive figure. To see Peggy cross and snappish like--any other ordinary mortal was an extraordinary event, and quite alarming to her placid mind. ”They will ask you, too, dear! I am sure they will--we will all be asked together!” she cried; but Peggy tossed her head, refusing to be conciliated.