Part 20 (1/2)

In her heart she hoped Peggy would say yes. For to Sarah's eyes the clumsy umbrella was a very ”genteel” one indeed, and she felt as if it would add distinction to their appearance.

Peggy, not looking at it from this point of view, hesitated.

”P'raps it would do to keep the sun off us,” she said. ”My parasol's wored out, so I can't take it. Mamma's going to get me a new one.”

Sarah ran back and fetched the umbrella.

When they got to the door at the top of the kitchen stairs, Peggy opened it and called down softly, ”f.a.n.n.y, are you there? Can you hear me?” for she was not allowed to go down to the kitchen by herself.

But no one answered. f.a.n.n.y was busy was.h.i.+ng in the back kitchen with both doors shut to keep in the steam, and the cook had gone out to the butcher's.

”f.a.n.n.y,” called Peggy again.

Then a voice came at last in return.

”Is it anything I can tell the cook when she comes in, please, miss?”

and a boy came forward out of the kitchen and stood at the foot of the steep stone stairs. ”I'm the baker's boy, and I met cook and she told me to wait; she'd be back with change to pay the book in a minute. There's no one here.”

Peggy turned to Sarah in distress.

”f.a.n.n.y must be out too,” she said.

”Well, it'll be all right if the boy 'ull tell her, won't it, missy?

'Tisn't the cook,” she went on, speaking to the boy herself, ”'tis t'other one. Jest you tell her when she comes in that miss has gone out a little walk with me--Sarah Simpkins--she'll know. I'll take good care of missy.”

”All right,” said the boy, with no doubt that so it was, and thinking, if he thought at all, that Sarah Simpkins must be a little nurse-girl, or something of the kind about the house, though certainly a small specimen to be in service! He whistled as he turned away, and something in the cheerful sound of his whistle helped to satisfy Peggy that all _was_ right!

”He's a nice boy,” she said to Sarah. ”He won't forget, will he?”

”Not he,” Sarah replied. ”He'll tell 'em fast enough. And as like as not we'll meet 'em along the street as we go. Is Webb's your butcher, missy--'tis just at the corner of Fernley Road?”

Peggy shook her head.

”I don't know,” she said, feeling rather ashamed of her ignorance; ”but I'd like to meet f.a.n.n.y, so, pelease, let us go that way.”

And off the two set, by the front door this time, quite easy in their minds though, as far as they knew, the baker's boy was the only guardian of the house.

They trotted down the street in the suns.h.i.+ne; it was very bright and fine--the air, even there in the smoky town, felt this morning deliciously fresh and spring-like.

”How nice it is,” said Peggy, drawing a deep breath; ”it's just like summer. I'd like to go a quite long walk, wouldn't you, Sarah?”

Light Smiley looked about her approvingly.

”Yes,” she said, ”I does enjoy a real fine day. And in the country it must be right-down fust-rate.”

”Oh, the country!” said Peggy; ”oh dear, how I do wish we could go as far as the country!”

”Well,” said Sarah, ”if we walk fast we might come within sight of it.

There's nice trees and gardings up Fernley Road, and that's a sort of country, isn't it, missy?”