Part 23 (1/2)
This did not much clear up matters. Indeed Peggy's papa was afraid for a minute or two that his little girl was going to have a fever, and that her mind was wandering. But all such fears were soon set at rest, and when the lady went off with Sarah, she left Peggy setting to work very happily at her dinner or tea, she was not sure which to call it.
”And you will let her come to spend the day with me to-morrow?” said the lady, as she shook hands with Peggy's father. ”I shall be driving this way, and I can call for her. I should not be happy not to know that she was none the worse for her adventures to-day.”
Then the lady took Sarah by the hand and went round with her to her home in the back street, telling the groom to wait for her at the corner.
It was well she went herself, for otherwise I am afraid poor Light Smiley would not have escaped the scolding she dreaded. Her mother and sisters had been very unhappy and frightened about her, and when people--especially poor mothers like Mrs. Simpkins, with ”so many children that they don't know what to do”--are anxious and frightened, I have often noticed that it makes them very cross.
As it was, however, the lady managed to smoothe it all down, and before she left she got not only Sarah's mother, but Rebecca and Mary-Hann and all of them to promise to say no more about it.
”'Tisn't only for myself I was feelin' so put about, you see, ma'am,”
said Mrs. Simpkins, ”but when I sent over the way and found the little missy was not to be found it flashed upon me like a lightenin'
streak--it did that, ma'am--that the two was off together. And if any 'arm had come to the little lady through one of mine, so to say, it would 'ave gone nigh to break my 'art. For their mar is a sweet lady--a real feelin' lady is their mar.”
”And a kind friend to you, I daresay,” said the stranger.
”Couldn't be a kinder as far as friendly words and old clotheses goes,”
said Mrs. Simpkins. ”But she's a large little fam'ly of her own, and not so very strong in 'ealth, and plenty to do with their money. And so to speak strangers in the place, though she 'ave said she'd do her best to get a place in a nice fam'ly for one of my girls.”
The lady glanced at the group of sisters.
”Yes,” she said, ”I should think you could spare one or two. How would you like to be in a kitchen?” she added, turning to Rebecca.
The girl blushed so that her face matched her arms, and she looked more ”reddy” than ever. But she shook her head.
”I'm afraid----” she began.
”No, ma'am, thank you kindly, but I couldn't spare Rebecca,” the mother interrupted. ”If it were for Mary-Hann now--Matilda-Jane's coming on and could take her place. Only, for I couldn't deceive you, ma'am, she's rather deaf.”
”I shouldn't mind that,” said the lady, who was pleased by Mary-Ann's bright eyes and pleasant face. ”I think deaf people sometimes work better than quick-hearing ones, besides, it may perhaps be cured. I will speak about her to my housekeeper and let you know. And you, Sarah, you are to be in the nursery some day.”
Sarah grinned with delight.
”Not just yet,” said Mrs. Simpkins; ”she 'ave a deal to learn, 'ave Sarah. Schooling and stiddiness to begin with. She don't mean no 'arm, I'll allow.”
”No; I'm sure she wants to be a very good girl,” said the lady. ”She was very kind and gentle to little Miss Peggy. So I won't forget you either, Sarah, when the time comes.”
And then the lady said good-bye to them all, and Mrs. Simpkins's heart felt lighter than for long, for she was sure that through this new friend she might get the start in life she had been hoping for, for her many daughters.
Peggy slept off her fatigue, and by the next morning she was quite bright again and able to listen to and understand papa's explanation of how, though without meaning to be disobedient, she had done wrong the day before in setting off with Sarah Simpkins as she had done. Two or three tears rolled slowly down her cheeks as she heard what he said.