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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:04:57 -0700 |
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| committer | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:04:57 -0700 |
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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/36015-h.zip b/36015-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..8ab3be0 --- /dev/null +++ b/36015-h.zip diff --git a/36015-h/36015-h.htm b/36015-h/36015-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..737b435 --- /dev/null +++ b/36015-h/36015-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,6588 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> + +<html xmlns="http://www.w3.org/1999/xhtml" xml:lang="en" lang="en"> + <head> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=iso-8859-1" /> + <meta http-equiv="Content-Style-Type" content="text/css" /> + <title> + The Project Gutenberg eBook of Little Miss Peggy, by Mrs. Molesworth. + </title> + <style type="text/css"> + + p {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + text-indent: 1.25em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + img {border: 0;} + .tnote {border: dashed 1px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + ins {text-decoration:none; border-bottom: thin dotted gray;} + h1,h2,h3,h4,h5,h6 { + text-align: center; /* all headings centered */ + clear: both; + } + hr { margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + margin-left: auto; + margin-right: auto; + clear: both; + } + + table {margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;} + + body{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + + .pagenum { /* uncomment the next line for invisible page numbers */ + /* visibility: hidden; */ + position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + } /* page numbers */ + .copyright {text-align: center; font-size: 70%;} + .blockquot{margin-left: 5%; margin-right: 10%; text-align: justify;} + + .bbox {border: solid 2px; margin-left: 10%; margin-right: 10%; padding-bottom: .5em; padding-top: .5em; + padding-left: .5em; padding-right: .5em;} + .small {font-size: 70%;} + .big {font-size: 110%;} + .author {font-size: 120%; text-align: center;} + .center {text-align: center;} + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + .chaptertitle {text-align: center; font-size: 110%; font-weight: bold;} + + .caption {font-weight: bold; font-size: 90%;} + + .figcenter {margin: auto; text-align: center;} + + .figleft {float: left; clear: left; margin-left: 0; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-top: + 1em; margin-right: 1em; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .figright {float: right; clear: right; margin-left: 1em; margin-bottom: 1em; + margin-top: 1em; margin-right: 0; padding: 0; text-align: center;} + + .unindent {margin-top: .75em; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + .right {text-align: right;} + .poem {margin-left: 40%; text-align: left;} + .poem2 {margin-left: 15%; text-align: left;} + .sig {margin-right: 10%; text-align: right;} + .u {text-decoration: underline;} + + + .hang1 {text-indent: -3em; margin-left: 3em;} + .cap:first-letter {float: left; clear: left; margin: -0.2em 0.1em 0; margin-top: 0%; + padding: 0; line-height: .75em; font-size: 300%; text-align: justify;} + .cap {text-align: justify;} + + </style> + </head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Miss Peggy, by Mrs. Molesworth + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Miss Peggy + Only a Nursery Story + +Author: Mrs. Molesworth + +Illustrator: Walter Crane + +Release Date: May 2, 2011 [EBook #36015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE MISS PEGGY *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 401px;"> +<img src="images/cover.jpg" width="401" height="600" alt="Cover" title="" /> +</div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[i]</a></span></p> +<h1>LITTLE MISS PEGGY:</h1> + +<h2>ONLY A NURSERY STORY</h2> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[ii]</a></span></p> +<div class='poem'> +"Would I could paint the serious brow,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">The eyes that look the world in face,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Half-questioning, doubting, wondering how</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">This happens thus, or that finds place."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10em;"><i>My Opposite Neighbour.</i></span><br /> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[iii]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 411px;"><a name="frontis" id="frontis"></a> +<img src="images/frontis.jpg" width="411" height="700" alt=""'What is the matter, little girls?' said the lady." P. 181" title="" /> +</div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[iv]</a></span></p><div class="figcenter" style="width: 392px;"> +<img src="images/titlepage.jpg" width="392" height="600" alt="Title Page" title="" /> +</div> +<h1>LITTLE MISS<br /> +PEGGY:</h1> + +<div class='center'>ONLY<br /> +A<br /> +NURSERY SToRY<br /> +<br /><br /> +BY</div> + +<div class='author'>MRS. MoLESWoRTH</div> + +<div class='center'>WITH PICTURES<br /> + +BY<br /> + +WALTER CRANE<br /> +<br /><br /><br /><br /> + + +L<sup>o</sup>ND<sup>o</sup>N:<br /> +MACMILLAN & Co.<br /> +AND NEW YORK<br /> +1887<br /> +</div> + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[v]</a></span></p> + + +<div class='center'> +<b>To the Memory of</b><br /> +<br /> +<span class='big'>E. L.</span><br /> +<br /> +THE DEAR YOUNG FRIEND<br /> +<br /> +WHO SUGGESTED ITS NAME TO THIS LITTLE STORY,<br /> +<br /> +AND FROM WHOSE LATE HOME,<br /> +<br /> +SO INTIMATELY ASSOCIATED WITH HER,<br /> +<br /> +THIS DEDICATION IS MADE.<br /> +</div> + +<div class='poem'> +<span class="smcap">Bindon</span>, <i>August</i> 1887.<br /> +</div> + + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[vii]</a></span></p> + +<h2>CONTENTS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="contents"> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'>CHAPTER I</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Breakfast Party</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER II</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The White Spot on the Hill</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_18">18</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER III</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"The Children at the Back"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_33">33</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER IV</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Real" Fancies</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_48">48</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER V</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Little Red Shoes</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_65">65</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER VI</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[viii]</a></span><span class="smcap">Fellow-Feelings and Slippers</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_81">81</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER VII</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">A Bun to the Good</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER VIII</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Under the Big Umbrella</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_114">114</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER IX</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Opposite House</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_131">131</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER X</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">"Soap-Bubbling"</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_145">145</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER XI</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Up Fernley Road</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='center' colspan='2'><br />CHAPTER XII</td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Shoes-Lady Again</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_178">178</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[ix]</a></span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS</h2> + + + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary="List of illustrations"> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">"What is the matter, little girls?" said the lady.</span></div></td><td align='right'><i><a href="#frontis">Frontispiece</a></i></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'> </td><td align='right'><span class="smcap">page</span></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">He had to drum with a spoon, first in one fat hand and then in the other</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_2">2</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">They were settled on the hearth-rug—Baby on Peggy's lap</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_17">17</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">"See Hal," she said, "over there, far, far away, neely in the sky, does you see that bluey hill?"</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_27">27</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">She was rather a terrible-looking old woman; she always wore a short bed-gown . . . and she was generally to be seen with a pipe in her mouth</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_35">35</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">"Tell me what the little white house is reely like"</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_52">52</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Peggy stood still, her eyes fixed on the baby shoes</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">"Here's the other shoe, I've just founded it"</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_92">92</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Suddenly a window above opened, and Mother Whelan's befrilled face was thrust out</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_109">109</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">An umbrella rolling itself about on the pavement</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_127">127</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">"To be sure," she said, in her most gracious tone. "'Tis the beautiful pipes I have"</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_138">138</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">The boys, boy-like, thought little but of who could blow the biggest bubbles</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_149">149</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><div class='hang1'><span class="smcap">Hushed Light Smiley to sleep, her arm clasped round Peggy</span></div></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_177">177</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[1]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER I</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>A BREAKFAST PARTY<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Henry was every morning fed<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">With a full mess of milk and bread."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><span class="smcap">Mary Lamb.</span></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">No</span>," said Peggy to herself, with a little sigh, "the +naughty clouds has covered it up to-day. I can't +see it."</div> + +<p>"Miss Peggy," came nurse's voice from the other +side of the room, "your breakfast's waiting. Come +to the table, my dear, and stand quiet while Master +Thor says the grace."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 455px;"> +<img src="images/i001.jpg" width="455" height="700" alt=""—Baby, who required a great deal of room to himself at table, baby though he was...."" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Nurse spoke kindly, but she meant what she +said. Peggy turned slowly from the window and +took her place among her brothers. She, and Thorold +and Terence, the two oldest boys, sat opposite nurse, +and beside nurse was Baby, who required a great deal +of room to himself at table, baby though he was.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[2]</a></span> +He had so many things to do during a meal, you +see, which grown-up children think quite unnecessary. +He had to drum with a spoon, first in one +fat hand and then in the other; he had to dip his +crust first in nurse's cup of tea and next in Hal's +jug of milk to see which tasted best, and there would +have been no fun in doing either if he hadn't had +to stretch a long way across; and besides all this +he felt really obliged now and then to put his feet +upon the table for a change, one at a time, of course. +For even he, clever as he was, could not have got +both together out of the bars of his chair without +toppling over. Nurse had for some time past been +speaking about beginning "to break Master Baby +in," but so far it had not got beyond speaking, and +she contented herself with seating him beside her +and giving him a good quarter of the table to himself, +the only objection to which was that it gave +things in general a rather lopsided appearance.</p> + +<p>At the two ends sat Baldwin and Hal. Hal's +real name, of course, was Henry, though he was +never called by it. Baldwin, on the contrary, had +no short name, partly perhaps because mamma +thought "Baldie" sounded so ugly, and partly because +there was something about Baldwin himself<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[3]</a></span> +which made one not inclined to shorten his name. +It suited him so well, for he was broad and comfortable +and slow. He was never in a hurry, and +he gave you the feeling that you needn't be in a +hurry either. There was plenty of time for everything, +for saying the whole of his name as well as +for everything else.</p> + +<p>That made a lot of brothers, didn't it? Five, +counting baby, and to match them, or rather not +to match them—for five and one are not a match +at all—only one little girl! She wondered about it +a good deal, when she had nothing else more interesting +to wonder about. It seemed so very badly +managed that she should have five brothers, and +that the five brothers should only have one sister +each. It wasn't always so, she knew. The children +at the back had plenty of both brothers and sisters; +she had found that out already. But I must not +begin just yet about the children at the back; you +will hear about them in good time.</p> + +<p>There was a nice bowl of bread-and-milk at each +child's place, and as bread-and-milk is much better +hot than cold, it was generally eaten up quickly. +But this morning, even after the grace was said, and +the four brothers who weren't baby had got on very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[4]</a></span> +well with theirs, Peggy sat, spoon in hand, gazing +before her and not eating at all.</p> + +<p>"What's the matter, Miss Peggy?" said nurse, +when she had at last made Baby understand that he +really <i>wasn't</i> to try to put his toes into her tea-cup, +which had struck him suddenly as a very beautiful +thing to do; "you've not begun to eat. Are you +waiting for the sugar or the salt, or can't you fix +which you want this morning?"</p> + +<p>For there was a very nice and interesting rule in +that nursery that every morning each child might +choose whether he or she would have salt or sugar +in the bread and milk. The only thing was that +they had to be quick about choosing, and that was +not always very easy.</p> + +<p>Peggy looked up when nurse spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"Peggy wasn't 'toosing," she said. Then she +grew a little red. "<i>I</i> wasn't 'toosing," she went on. +For Peggy was five—five a good while ago—and she +wanted to leave off baby ways of talking. "I was +wondering."</p> + +<p>"Well, eat your breakfast, and when you've got +half-way down the bowl you can tell us what you +were wondering about," said nurse.</p> + +<p>Peggy's spoon, already laden, continued its journey<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[5]</a></span> +to her mouth. But when it got there, and its contents +were safely deposited between her two red lips, +she gave a little cry.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, "it doesn't taste good. There's +no salt or sugar."</p> + +<p>"'Cos you didn't put any in, you silly girl," +said Thor. "I saw, but I thought it'd be a good +lesson. People shouldn't wonder when they're +eating."</p> + +<p>"Peggy wasn't eating; she was only going to +eat," said Terry. "Never mind, Peg-top. Thor +shan't tease you. Which'll you have? Say quick," +and he pulled forward the sugar-basin and the salt-cellar +in front of his sister.</p> + +<p>"Sugar, pelease," said Peggy. "It's so 'told this +morning."</p> + +<p>At this Thor burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"What a Peggy-speech," he said. "Sugar's no +warmer than salt."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Baldwin, solemnly, from the other end +of the table. "'Tis. There's sugar in toffee and in +jam, and they're hot, leastways they're hot to be +made. And there's salt in ices, for mamma said +they're made with salt."</p> + +<p>"What rubbish!" said Thor. "Nurse, isn't it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[6]</a></span> +rubbish? And when did you ever see ices, I'd like +to know, Baldwin?"</p> + +<p>"I did," Baldwin maintained. "Onst. But I'll +not tell you when, if you say rubbish."</p> + +<p>"It is rubbish all the same, and I'll prove it," +said Thor. "You know that nice smooth white sugar +on the top of bridescake?—well, they ice that to put +it on—I know they do. Don't they, nurse?"</p> + +<p>"They call it icing, to be sure," nurse replied. +"But that's no proof that ices themselves mayn't be +made with salt, Master Thor, for when you come to +think of it ices have sugar in them."</p> + +<p>"To be sure they have," Thor cried, triumphantly. +"Nurse has proved it—that sugar's no warmer than +salt," which was not what nurse had intended to say +at all.</p> + +<p>But now Peggy, who all this time had been +steadily eating, looked up again.</p> + +<p>"Peggy was wondering," she said, "what's clouds. +Is clouds alive?"</p> + +<p>Thor was all ready with his "you silly girl" again, +but this time Terry was before him.</p> + +<p>"They can't be alive," he said. "They've got +no hands, or feet, or mouths, and noses, and eyes, +and——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[7]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They <i>has</i> noses," said Peggy, eagerly. "Peggy's +seen them, and they has wings—the little ones has +wings, they fly so fast. And p'raps they has got +proper faces on their other sides, to look at the sun +with. I've seen shiny bits of the other sides +turned over."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Baldwin, solemnly again, as if that +settled it, "so has I."</p> + +<p>"But they're not alive, Peggy, they're really not. +They fly because the wind blows them," said Terence.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Peggy, with a deep-drawn breath, "I +see. Then if we all blowed very hard at the window, +if we all blowed together, couldn't we blow them +away? I do so want to blow them away when they +come over my hills."</p> + +<p>But when she had said this she grew very red, +just as if she had told something she had not meant +to tell, and if any one had looked at her quite close +they would have seen that there were tears in her +eyes. Fortunately, however, no one had noticed her +last words, for Thorold and Terence too had burst +out laughing at the beginning of her speech.</p> + +<p>"Fancy us all blowing out of the window together," +they said. And they began puffing out their +cheeks and pretending to blow very hard, which<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[8]</a></span> +made them look so funny that Peggy herself burst +out laughing too.</p> + +<p>"I'll tell you what," said Thor, when they were +tired of laughing, "that reminds me of soap-bubbles, +we haven't had any for such a time. Nurse, will +you remember to let us have them the first wet half-holiday? +Mamma'll let us if you will."</p> + +<p>"And the pipes?" said nurse. "There was six +new got the last time, and they were to last, certain +sure till the next time, and then——"</p> + +<p>"Oh I know," said Thor, "we took them to school +and never brought them back. Never mind—we'll +get some more from old Mother Whelan. She always +keeps lots. We'll keep our halfpennies for two +Saturdays—that'll do. But we must be going, Terry +and Baldwin. <i>I'm</i> all ready."</p> + +<p>And he jumped up as he spoke, and pulled his +satchel of books from under his chair, where he had +put them to be all ready. Baldwin slowly got down +from his place, for he was not only broad, but his +legs were very short, and came up to nurse to be +helped on with his little overcoat, while Terence +began rushing about the room in a fuss, looking for +one of his books, which as usual couldn't be found +at the last minute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I had it just before breakfast, I'm <i>sure</i> I had," +he went on repeating. "I haven't finished learning +it, and I meant to look it over. Oh dear, what shall +I do?"</p> + +<p>The nursery party was too accustomed to Terry's +misfortunes to be much upset by them. Peggy +sat still for a moment or two considering. Then she +spoke.</p> + +<p>"Terry," she said, "look in Baby's cot."</p> + +<p>Off flew Terence, returning in triumph, grammar +in hand.</p> + +<p>"I'll learn it on the way to school. How did you +know it was there, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"I sawed you reaching over to kiss Baby when +you comed in to ask nurse for a new shoe-lace this +morning," said Peggy, with great pride.</p> + +<p>"Good girl," said Terence, as he slammed the +door and rushed downstairs to overtake his two +brothers.</p> + +<p>The nursery seemed very quiet when the three +big boys had gone. Quiet but not idle; there was +always a great deal to do first thing of a morning, +and Peggy had her own share of the doing to see to. +She took off her own breakfast pinafore and put on +a quite clean one—one that looked quite clean anyway,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> +just as if it had never been on, even though it +had really been used two or three times. Peggy +called it her "prayers pinafore," and it always +lasted a whole week, as it was only worn to go +down to the dining-room for five or ten minutes. +Then she washed her hands and stood still for nurse +to give a tidying touch to her soft fair hair, though +it really didn't need it,—Peggy's hair never looked +messy,—and then she took off Hal's over pinafore +which he wore on the top of his blouse at meal-times, +and helped him to wash his hands, by which +time nurse and baby were also ready, and the little +procession set off on their journey. If the prayers +bell had not sounded yet, or did not sound as they +made their way down, nurse would stop at mamma's +door and tap, and the answer was sure to be "Come +in." Then nurse would go on downstairs with Baby, +and Peggy and Hal would trot in to see mamma, and +wait a moment or two till she was ready. She was +almost always nearly ready, unless she was very, +very tired; and in that case she would tell them to +go downstairs and come up and see her again after +prayers, as she was going to have breakfast in bed. +They rather liked these days, though of course they +were sorry for mamma to be so tired, but it was very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span> +interesting to watch her having her breakfast, +and generally one or two dainty bits of toast and +marmalade would find their way to the two little +mouths.</p> + +<p>It was only since last winter that mamma had +been so often tired and not able to get up early. +Before then she used always to come up to the +nursery to see her six children at breakfast, and +prayers were early enough for the three boys to stay +for them, instead of having them at school. For +mamma was not at all a "lazy" mother, as you +might think if I did not explain. But last winter +she had been very ill indeed, so ill that papa looked +dreadfully unhappy, and the boys had to take off +their boots downstairs so as not to make any noise +when they passed her door, and the days seemed +very long to Peggy and Hal, worst to Peggy of +course, for Hal was still so little that almost all his +life belonged to the nursery. It was during that +time that Peggy first found out the white spot on +the hill, which I am going to tell you about, for she +used to climb up on the window-sill and sit there +looking out at whatever there was to see for hours +at a time.</p> + +<p>This morning mamma was evidently not tired,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> +for just as the children got to the landing on to +which her door opened, out she came.</p> + +<p>"Well, darlings," she said, "there you are! Have +the boys got off to school all rightly, nurse?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, ma'am," nurse was beginning, but Peggy +interrupted her.</p> + +<p>"Terry loosed his book, mamma dear, and Peg—<i>I</i> +founded it; I knewed where it was 'cos I used my +eyes like you said."</p> + +<p>"That was a very good thing," said mamma. +She had talked to Peggy about using her eyes a +good deal, for Peggy had rather a trick of going to +sleep with her eyes open, like many children, and it +becomes a very tiresome trick if it isn't cured, and +makes one miss a great many chances of being useful +to others, and of enjoying pleasant things one's +self. "Poor Terry—I wish he wasn't so careless. +Where was his book this time?"</p> + +<p>"In such a funny place, mamma dear," said +Peggy. "In Baby's cot," and at the sound of his +name Baby crowed, which made both Peggy and Hal +burst out laughing, so that mamma had to hold +their hands firmly to prevent their tumbling down +stairs.</p> + +<p>After prayers were over nurse took Baby and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> +Hal away, but papa said Peggy might stay for a few +minutes.</p> + +<p>"I've scarcely seen you the last day or two, old +woman," he said; "you were fast asleep when I +came home. What have you been about?"</p> + +<p>"About," Peggy repeated, looking puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Well—what have you been doing with yourself?" +he said again.</p> + +<p>"I've been doing nothing with <i>myself</i>," Peggy +replied, gravely. "I've done my lessons and my sewing, +and I've used my eyes."</p> + +<p>"Well, and isn't all that yourself?" asked papa, +who was rather a tease. "You've done your sewing +with your fingers and your lessons with your mind, +and you've used your eyes for both—mind, fingers, +eyes—those are all parts of yourself."</p> + +<p>Peggy spread out her two hands on the table and +looked at the ten pink fingers.</p> + +<p>"Them's my fingers," she said, "but I don't know +where that other thing is—that what thinks. I'd +like to know where it is. Papa, can't you tell me?"</p> + +<p>There came a puzzled look into her soft gray +eyes—mamma knew that look; when it stayed long +it was rather apt to turn into tears.</p> + +<p>"Arthur," she said to Peggy's papa, "you're too<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> +fond of teasing. Peggy dear, nobody can see that +part of you; there are many things we can't ever +see, or hear, or touch, which are real things all the +same."</p> + +<p>Peggy's face lightened up again. She nodded +her head softly, as if to say that she understood. +Then she got down from her chair and went up to +her father to kiss him and say good-bye.</p> + +<p>"Going already, Peg!" he said. "Don't you like +papa teasing you?"</p> + +<p>"I don't mind," said Peggy, graciously; "you're +only a big boy, papa. I'm going 'cos nurse wants +me to keep Baby quiet while she makes the beds."</p> + +<p>But when she got round to the other side of the +table to her mother, she lingered a moment.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she whispered, "<i>it's</i> not there this +morning—Peggy's fairy house. It's all hided up. +Mamma——"</p> + +<p>"Well, darling?"</p> + +<p>"Are you <i>sure</i> it'll come back again?"</p> + +<p>"Quite sure, dear. It's only hidden by the clouds, +as I've told you before. You know you've often +been afraid it was gone, and it's always come again."</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure," said Peggy. "What a silly +little girl I am, mamma dear."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span></p> + +<p>And she laughed her own little gentle laugh. I +can't tell how it was that Peggy's little laugh used +sometimes to bring tears to her mother's eyes.</p> + +<p>When she got up to the nursery again she found +she was very much wanted. Nurse was in the night +nursery which opened into the day one, and looked +out to the back of the house just as the other looked +to the front. And Baby was sitting on the hearth-rug, +with Hal beside him, both seeming far from +happy.</p> + +<p>"Baby's defful c'oss, Peggy," said poor Hal.</p> + +<p>And Baby, though he couldn't speak, pouted out +his lips and looked very savage at Hal, which of +course was very unreasonable and ungrateful of him, +as Hal had been doing everything he could to amuse +him, and had only objected to Baby pulling him +across the floor by his curls.</p> + +<p>"Oh Baby," said Peggy, "that isn't good. Poor +Hal's hair—see how you've tugged it."</p> + +<p>For Baby was still grasping some golden threads +in his plump fists.</p> + +<p>"Him sinks zem's feaders," said Hal, apologetically. +He was so fond of Baby that he couldn't +bear any one to say anything against him except +himself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span></p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/i002.jpg" width="458" height="700" alt=""And in another moment they were settled..." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"But Baby must learn hairs isn't feathers," said +Peggy, solemnly. "And it isn't good to let him pull +the feathers out of his parrot either, Hal," she continued, +"for some day he might have a <i>live</i> parrot, +and then it would be cooel, and the parrot would +<i>bite</i> him—yes it would, Baby."</p> + +<p>This was too much for Baby. He drew the +corner of his mouth down, then he opened it wide, +very wide, and was just going to roar when Peggy +threw her arms round him and kissed him vigorously.</p> + +<p>"He's sorry, Hal—dear Baby—he's so very sorry. +Kiss him, Hal. Let's all kiss together," and the +three soft faces all met in a bunch, which Baby +found so amusing that instead of continuing his +preparations for a good cry, he thought better of it, +and went off into a laugh.</p> + +<p>"That's right," said Peggy. "Now if you'll both +be very good boys I'll tell you a story. Just wait a +minute till I've tooked off my prayers pinafore."</p> + +<p>She jumped up to do so. While she was unfastening +it her eyes moved to the window; she +gave a little cry and ran forward. The day was +clearing up, the sun was beginning faintly to shine, +and the clouds were breaking.</p> + + +<p>"Mamma was right," exclaimed Peggy, joyfully;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> +"I can see it—I can see it! I can see my white +house again, my dear little fairy house."</p> + +<p>She would have stayed there gazing out contentedly +half the morning if her little brothers had +not called her back.</p> + +<p>"Peggy," said Hal, plaintively, "do tum. Baby's +pulling Hal's 'air adain."</p> + +<p>"Peggy's coming, dear," said the motherly little +voice.</p> + +<p>And in another moment they were settled on the +hearth-rug—Baby on Peggy's lap—on, and off it too, +for it was much too small to accommodate the whole +of him; Hal on the floor beside her, his curly head +leaning on his sister's shoulder in blissful and trustful +content.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER II</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"O reader! had you in your mind<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Such stores as silent thought can bring,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">O gentle reader! you would find</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">A tale in everything.</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">What more I have to say is short,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And you must kindly take it:</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">It is no tale; but, should you think,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Perhaps a tale you'll make it."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 9em;"><span class="smcap">W. Wordsworth</span>.</span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'>"<span class="smcap">Telling</span> stories," when the teller is only five and some +months old, and the hearers one and a quarter and +three, is rather a curious performance. But Peggy was +well used to it, and when in good spirits quite able +to battle with the difficulties of amusing Hal and +Baby at the same time. And these difficulties were +not small, for, compared with Baby, Hal was really +"grown-up."</div> + +<p>It is all very well for people who don't know +much about tiny children to speak of them all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span> +together, up to—six or seven, let us say—as "babies," +but we who think we <i>do</i> know something about +them, can assure the rest of the world that this is an +immense mistake. One year in nursery arithmetic +counts for ten or even more in <i>real</i> "grown-up" life. +There was a great difference between Peggy and Hal +for instance, but a still greater between Hal and +Baby, and had there been a new baby below him +again, of course it would have been the greatest of +all. Peggy could not have explained this in words, +but she knew it thoroughly all the same, and she had +learnt to take it into account in her treatment of the +two, especially in her stories telling. In reality the +story itself was all for Hal, but there was a sort of +running accompaniment for Baby which he enjoyed +very much, and which, to tell the truth, I rather +think Hal found amusing too, though he pretended +it was for Baby's sake.</p> + +<p>This morning her glance out of the window had +made Peggy feel so happy that the story promised to +be a great success. She sat still for a minute or two, +her arms clasped round Baby's waist, gently rocking +herself and him to and fro, while her gray eyes +stared before her, as if reading stories in the carpet +or on the wall.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Peggy," said Hal at last, giving her a hug—he +had been waiting what he thought a very long time—"Peggy, +'do on—no, I mean begin, p'ease."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Hal, d'reckly," said Peggy. "It's coming, +Hal, yes, now I think it's comed. Should we do +piggies first, to please Baby before we begin?"</p> + +<p>"Piggies is <i>so</i> silly," said Hal, disdainfully.</p> + +<p>"Well, we'll kiss him instead—another kiss all +together, he does so like that;" and when the kissing +was over—"now, Baby dear, listen, and p'raps you'll +understand <i>some</i>, and if you're good we'll have piggies +soon."</p> + +<p>Baby gave a kind of grunt; perhaps he was +thinking of the pigs, but most likely it was just his +way of saying he would be very good.</p> + +<p>"There was onst," Peggy began, "a little girl +who lived in a big house all by herself."</p> + +<p>"Hadn't she no mamma, or nurse, or—or—brudders?" +Hal interrupted.</p> + +<p>"No, not none," Peggy went on. "She lived +quite alone, and she didn't like it. The house was +as big as a—as a church, and she hadn't no bed, and +no chairs or tables, and there was very, <i>very</i> high +stairs."</p> + +<p>"Is there stairs in churches?" asked Hal.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy looked rather puzzled.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I think there is," she said. "There's people +high up in churches, so there must be stairs. But I +didn't say it <i>were</i> a church, Hal; I only said as big +as a church. And the stairs was for Baby—you'll +hear—p'raps there wasn't <i>reelly</i> stairs. Now, Baby; +one day a little piggy-wiggy came up the stairs—one, +two, three," and Peggy's hand came creeping up +Baby's foot and leg and across his pinafore and up +his bare arm again, by way of illustrating piggy's +progress, "and when he got to the top he said +'grumph,' and poked his nose into the little girl's +neck"—here Peggy's own nose made a dive among +Baby's double chins, to his exceeding delight, setting +him off chuckling to himself for some time, which +left Peggy free to go on with the serious part of the +story for Hal's benefit—"and there was a window in +the big house, and the little girl used to sit there +always looking out."</p> + +<p>"Always?" asked Hal again. "All night too? +Didn't her ever go to bed?"</p> + +<p>"She hadn't no bed, I told you. No, she didn't +sit there all night, 'cos she couldn't have see'd in the +dark. Never mind about the night. She sat there +all day, always looking out, 'cos there was something<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> +she liked to see. If I tell you you won't tell nobody +what it was, will you. Hal?"</p> + +<p>Hal looked very mystified, but replied obediently,</p> + +<p>"No, won't tell nobody," he said.</p> + +<p>"Well, then, I'll tell you what it was. It was +a——" But at this moment Baby, having had enough +of his own meditations, began to put in a claim to +some special attention. The piggy had to be summoned +and made to run up and down stairs two or +three times before he would be satisfied and allow +Peggy to proceed.</p> + +<p>"Well, Peggy?" said Hal eagerly.</p> + +<p>"It was a——" Oh dear, interrupted again! But +this time the interruption was a blessing in disguise. +It was nurse come to fetch Baby for his morning +sleep.</p> + +<p>"And thank you, Miss Peggy, my dear, for keeping +him so nice and good. I heard you come up, +and I knew they'd be all right with you," she said, +as she walked away with Baby, who was by no +means sure that he wanted to go.</p> + +<p>"Now," said Hal, edging closer to Peggy, "we'll +be comfable. Go on, Peggy—what she sawed."</p> + +<p>"It was a hill—far, far away, neely as far as the +sky," said Peggy in a mysterious tone. "When the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span> +sun comed she could see it plain—the hill and what +was there, but when the sun goed she couldn't. +There was a white spot on the hill, Hal, and that +white spot was a lovely white cottage. She knowed +it, though she'd never see'd it."</p> + +<p>"How did she know it?"</p> + +<p>"Her mam—no, that's wrong, she hadn't no +mamma—well, never mind, <i>somebody</i>'d told her."</p> + +<p>"Were it <i>God?</i>" asked Hal, in an awestruck +whisper.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. No, I don't think so. I think +it's a little naughty to say that, Hal. No, dear, +don't cry," for signs of disturbance were visible in +Hal's round face. "You didn't mean, and it isn't +never naughty when we don't mean, you know. +We'll go on about the little girl. She knowed it +was a lovely cottage, and she wanted <i>very</i> much, as +much as could be, to go there, for the big house +wasn't pretty, and it was dark, nearly black, and the +cottage was all white."</p> + +<p>"Her house wasn't as nice as <i>zit</i>, were it? Zit +house isn't b'ack," said Hal.</p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, doubtfully. "<i>It</i> wasn't as nice +as this, but the white house was much prettier than +this."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How?" asked Hal.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Peggy, letting her eyes and her fancy +rove about together, "I think it was beautiful all +over. It was all shiny white; the walls was white, +and the carpets was white, and the tables and the +chairs was white—all shiny and soft like—like——"</p> + +<p>"Baby's best sash," suggested Hal.</p> + +<p>"Well, p'raps—that'll do. And there was a cow +and chickens and sheep, and a kitchen where you +could make cakes, and a garden with lots of flowers +and strawberries——"</p> + +<p>"All white?" asked Hal.</p> + +<p>"No, of course not. Strawberries couldn't be +white, and flowers is all colours. 'Twas the <i>droind-room</i> +that was all white."</p> + +<p>"And the milk and the eggs. Zem <i>is</i> white," +said Hal, triumphantly.</p> + +<p>"Very well. I didn't say they wasn't. But the +story goes on that the little girl didn't know how to +get there; it was so far and so high up. So she sat +and cried all alone at the window."</p> + +<p>"All alone, <i>poor</i> little girl," said Hal, with deep +feeling. "Kick, Peggy, kick, I'm 'doing to cry; +make it come right <i>kick</i>. The crying's just coming."</p> + +<p>"Make it wait a minute. I can't make it come<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> +right all so quick," said Peggy. "It's going to +come, so make the crying wait. One day she was +crying d'edful, worst than never, 'cos the sun had +goned, and she couldn't see the white cottage no +more, and just then she heard something saying, +'mew, mew,' and it was a kitten outside the window, +and it was just going to fall down and be killed."</p> + +<p>"That's not coming right. I <i>must</i> cry," said Hal.</p> + +<p>"But she opened the window—there now, you +see—and she pulled the kitten in, so it didn't fall +down, and it was so pleased it kissed her, and when +it kissed her it turned into a fairy, and it touched +her neck and made wings come, and then it opened +the window again and flewed away with the little +girl till they came to the white cottage, and then +the little girl was quite happy for always."</p> + +<p>"Did the fairy stay with her always?" asked Hal.</p> + +<p>"No; fairies never does like that. They go back +to fairyland. But the little girl had nice milk and +eggs and cakes, and she made nosegays with the +flowers, and the sun was <i>always</i> shining, so she was +quite, <i>quite</i> happy."</p> + +<p>"Her couldn't be happy all alone," said Hal. +"I don't like zat story, Peggy. You haven't made +it nice at all. It's a nonsense story."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hal wriggled about and seemed very cross. Poor +Peggy was not so much indignant as distressed at +failing in her efforts to amuse him. What was the +matter? It couldn't be that he was getting sleepy—it +was far too early for his morning sleep.</p> + +<p>"It isn't a nonsense story," she said, and she +glanced towards the window as she spoke. Yes, the +sun was shining brightly, the morning clouds had +quite melted away; it was going to be a fine day +after all. And clear and white gleamed out the +spot on the distant hill which Peggy loved to gaze +at! "Come here, Hal," she said, getting on to her +feet and helping Hal on to his, "come with me to +the window and you'll see if it's a nonsense story. +Only you've never to tell nobody. It's Peggy's own +secret."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/i003.jpg" width="458" height="700" alt="'And above the top of all the houses, clear though faint, was now to be seen the outline of a range of hills...." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Hal forgot his crossness in a minute; he felt so +proud and honoured. Peggy led him to the window. +It was not a very pretty prospect; they looked out +on to a commonplace street, houses on both sides, +though just opposite there was a little variety in +the shape of an old-fashioned, smoke-dried garden. +Beyond that again, more houses, more streets, stretching +away out into suburbs, and somewhere beyond +all that again the mysterious, beautiful, enchanting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> +region which the children spoke of and believed in +as "the country," not really so far off after all, +though to them it seemed so.</p> + +<p>And above the tops of all the houses, clear +though faint, was now to be seen the outline of a +range of hills, so softly gray-blue in the distance +that but for the irregular line never changing in its +form, one could easily have fancied it was only the +edge of a quickly passing ridge of clouds. Peggy, +however, knew better.</p> + +<p>"See, Hal," she said, "over there, far, far +away, <i>neely</i> in the sky, does you see that bluey +hill?"</p> + +<p>Of course he saw, agreeing so readily that Peggy +was sure he did not distinguish rightly, which was +soon proved to be the case by his announcing that +"The 'ill were sailing away."</p> + +<p>"No, no, it isn't," Peggy cried. "You've mustooked +a cloud, Hal. See now," and by bringing +her own eyes exactly on a level with a certain spot +on the glass she was able to place his correctly, +"just over that little bubble in the window you can +see it. Its top goes up above the bubble and then +down and then up again, and it never moves like +the clouds—does you see now, Hallie dear?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Zes, zes," said Hal, "but it's a <i>wenny</i> little 'ill, +Peggy."</p> + +<p>"No, dear," his sister explained. "It only looks +little 'cos it's so far away. <i>You</i> is too little to understand, +dear, but it's true that it's a big hill, neely a +mounting, Hal. Mamma told me."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Hal, profoundly impressed and quite +convinced.</p> + +<p>"Mountings is <i>old</i> hills, or big hills," Peggy +continued, herself slightly confused. "I don't know +if they is the papas and mammas of the little ones, +but I think it's something like that, for onst in +church I heard the clergymunt read that the little +hills jumped for joy, so they must be the children. +I'll ask mamma, and then I'll tell you. I'm not +quite sure if he meaned the same kind, for these +hills never jumps—that's how mamma told me to +know they wasn't clouds."</p> + +<p>"Zes," said Hal, "but go on about the secret, +Peggy. Hal doesn't care about the 'ills."</p> + +<p>"But the secret's <i>on</i> the hills," replied Peggy. +"Look more, Hal—does you see a teeny, <i>teeny</i> white +spot on the bluey hill? Higher up than the bubble, +but not at the top quite?"</p> + +<p>Hal's eyes were good and his faith was great.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Zes, zes," he cried. "I does see it—kite plain, +Peggy."</p> + +<p>"Well, Hallie," Peggy continued, "<i>that's</i> my +secret."</p> + +<p>"Is it the fairy cottage, and is the little girl +zere now?" Hal asked, breathlessly.</p> + +<p>Peggy hesitated.</p> + +<p>"It is a white cottage," she said. "Mamma told +me. She looked at it through a seeing pipe."</p> + +<p>"What's a seeing pipe?" Hal interrupted.</p> + +<p>"I can't tell you just now. Ask mamma to show +you hers some day. It's too difficult to understand, +but it makes you see things plain. And mamma +found out it was reelly a cottage, a white cottage, +all alone up on the hill—isn't it sweet of it to be +there all alone, Hallie? And she said I might +think it was a fairy cottage and keep it for my own +secret, only I've telled you, Hal, and you mustn't tell +nobody."</p> + +<p>"And is it all like Baby's best sash, and are there +cakes and f'owers and cows?" asked Hal.</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I made up the story, you know, +Hal, to please you. I've made lots—mamma said I +might. But I've never see'd the cottage, you know. +I <i>daresay</i> it's beautiful, white and gold like the story,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> +that's why I said it. It does so shine when the +sun's on it—look, look, Hal!"</p> + +<p>For as she spoke the sunshine had broken out +again more brilliantly; and the bright, thin sparkle +which often dazzles one between the showers in +unsettled weather, lighted up that quarter of the +sky where the children were gazing, and, to their +fancy at least, the white spot caught and reflected +the rays.</p> + +<p>"Oh zes, I see," Hal repeated. "But, Peggy, I'd +like to <i>go</i> zere and to see it. Can't we go, Peggy? +It would be so nice, nicer than making up stories. +And do you think—oh do you think, Peggy, that +p'raps there's <i>pigs</i> zere, real pigs?"</p> + +<p>He clasped his hands entreatingly as he spoke. +Peggy must say there were pigs. Poor Peggy—it +was rather a comedown after her fairy visions. But +she was too kind to say anything to vex Hal.</p> + +<p>"I thought you said pigs was silly," she objected, +gently.</p> + +<p>"Playing pigs to make Baby laugh is silly," said +Hal, "and pigs going to market and stayin' at 'ome +and roast beefin', is <i>d'edful</i> silly. But not real pigs."</p> + +<p>"Oh well, then, <i>you</i> may think pigs if you like," +said Peggy. "I don't think I will, but that doesn't<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span> +matter. You may have them in the cottage if you +like, only you mustn't tell Thor and Terry and +Baldwin about it."</p> + +<p>"I won't tell, on'y you <i>might</i> have them too," +said Hal discontentedly. "You're not kind, Peggy."</p> + +<p>"Don't let's talk about the cottage any more, +then," said Peggy, though her own eyes were fixed +on the far-off white spot as she spoke. "I think +p'raps, Hallie, you're <i>rather</i> too little to care about +it."</p> + +<p>"I'm not," said Hal, "and I do care. But I do +like pigs, real pigs. I sawed zem in the country."</p> + +<p>"You can't remember," said Peggy. "It's two +whole years since we was in the real country, Hallie, +and you're only three and a half. I know it's two +years. I heard mamma say so to papa, so you +wasn't two then."</p> + +<p>"But I did see zem and I do 'amember, 'cos of +pictures," said Hal.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, dear, there is pictures of pigs in your +scrap-book, I know," Peggy agreed. "You get it +now and we'll look for them."</p> + +<p>Off trotted Hal, returning in a minute with his +book, and for a quarter of an hour or so his patient +little sister managed to keep him happy and amused.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> +At the end of that time, however, he began to be +cross and discontented again. Peggy did not know +what to make of him this morning, he was not often +so difficult to please. She was very glad when nurse +came in to say it was now <i>his</i> time for his morning +sleep, and though Hal grumbled and scolded and +said he was not sleepy she carried him off, and Peggy +was left in peace.</p> + +<p>She was not at a loss to employ herself. At +half-past eleven she usually went down to mamma +for an hour's lessons, and it must be nearly that +time now. She got her books together and sat +looking over the one verse she had to learn, her +thoughts roving nevertheless in the direction they +loved best—away over the chimneys and the smoke; +away, away, up, up to the fairy cottage on the +distant hill.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER III</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>"THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK"<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"It seems to me if I'd money enough,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">My heart would be made of different stuff;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I would think about those whose lot is rough."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 18.5em;"><span class="smcap">Mrs. Hawtrey.</span></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">These</span> children's home was not in a very pretty +place. In front, as I have told you, it looked out +on to a rather ugly street, and there were streets and +streets beyond that again—streets of straight, stiff, +grim-looking houses, some large and some small, but +all commonplace and dull. And in and out between +these bigger streets were narrower and still uglier +ones, scarcely indeed to be called streets, so dark +and poky were they, so dark and poky were the poor +houses they contained.</div> + +<p>The street immediately behind the children's +house, that on to which its back windows looked +out, was one of these poorer ones, though not by any +means one of the most miserable. And ugly though<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> +it was, Peggy was very fond of gazing out of the +night nursery window on to this street, especially +on days when it was "no use," as she called it to +herself, looking out at the front; that meant, as I +daresay you can guess, days on which it was too +dull and cloudy to see the distant hills, and above +all the white spot, which had taken such hold on her +fancy. For she had found out some very interesting +things in that dingy street. Straight across from the +night nursery window was a very queer miserable +sort of a shop, kept by an old Irishwoman whose +name was Mrs. Whelan. It is rather absurd to call +it a shop, though it was a place where things were +bought and sold, for the room in which these buyings +and sellings went on was Mrs. Whelan's kitchen, +and bedroom, and sitting-room, and wash-house, as +well as her shop! It was on the first floor, and you +got up to it by a rickety staircase—more like a ladder +indeed than a staircase, and underneath it on the +ground-floor lived a cobbler, with whom Mrs. Whelan +used to quarrel at least once a day, though as he was +a patient, much enduring man, the quarrels never +went farther than the old Irishwoman's opening her +window and shouting down all manner of scoldings +to the poor fellow, of which he took no notice.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/i004.jpg" width="458" height="700" alt=""She was rather a terrible-looking old woman...." title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span></p> + +<p>On Sundays the cobbler used to tidy himself up +and go off to church "like a gentleman," the boys +said. But Mrs. Whelan, alas, never tidied herself +up, and never went to church, and though she made +a great show of putting a shutter across that part of +the window which showed "the shop," nurse had +more than once shaken her head when the children +were dressing for church, and told them not to look +over the way, she was sadly afraid the shutting or +shuttering up was all a pretence, and that Mrs. Whelan +made a good penny by her Sunday sales of tobacco +and pipes to the men, or maybe of sugar, candles, or +matches to careless housekeepers who had let their +stock run out too late on Saturday night.</p> + +<p>She was rather a terrible-looking old woman; she +always wore a short bed-gown, that is, a loose kind +of jacket roughly drawn in at the waist, of washed-out +cotton, which never looked clean, and yet somehow +never seemed to get much dirtier, a black stuff +petticoat, and a cap with flapping frills which quite +hid her face unless you were very near her, and she +was generally to be seen with a pipe in her mouth. +Her voice was both loud and shrill, and when she +was in a temper you could almost hear what she +said, though the nursery window was shut. All the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> +neighbours were afraid of her, and in consequence +treated her with great respect. But like most people +in this world, she had some good about her, as you +will hear.</p> + +<p>Good or bad, the children, Peggy especially, found +Mrs. Whelan very interesting. Peggy had never +seen her nearer than from the window, and though +she had a queer sort of wish to visit the shop and +make closer acquaintance with the old crone, she +was far too frightened of her to think of doing so +really. The boys, however, had been several times +inside Mrs. Whelan's dwelling, and used to tell +wonderful stories of the muddle of things it contained, +and of the old woman herself. They always +bought their soap-bubble pipes there, "three a penny," +and would gladly have bought some of the toffee-balls +and barley-sugar which were also to be had, if +this had not been strictly forbidden by mamma, in +spite of their grumbling.</p> + +<p>"It isn't so <i>very</i> dirty, mamma," they said, "and +you get a lot more for a penny than in a proper shop."</p> + +<p>But mamma would not give in. She knew what +Mrs. Whelan was like, as she used sometimes to go +over herself to talk to the poor old woman, but that, +of course, was a different matter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't much like your going there at all," she +would say, "but it pleases her for us to buy some +trifles now and then."</p> + +<p>But in her heart she wished very much that they +were not obliged to live in this dreary and ugly town, +where their poor neighbours were rarely the sort of +people she could let her children know anything of. +Mamma, in <i>her</i> childhood, had lived in that fairyland +she called "the country," and so had papa, and they +still looked forward to being there again, though for +the present they were obliged to make the best of +their home in a dingy street.</p> + +<p>It seemed much less dull and dingy to the children +than to them, however. Indeed I don't think the +children ever thought about it at all. The boys were +busy at school, and found plenty of both work and +play to make the time pass quickly, and Peggy, who +might perhaps have been a little dull and lonely in +her rather shut-up life, had her fancies and her +wonders—her interesting things to look at both at +the front and the back of the house, and mamma to +tell all about them to! And this reminds me that +I have not yet told you what it was she was <i>most</i> +fond of watching from the night nursery window. +It was not Mrs. Whelan or the cobbler; it was the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> +tenants of the third or top story of the rickety old +house—the family she always spoke of to herself as +"the children at the back."</p> + +<p>Such a lot of them there were. It was long before +Peggy was able to distinguish them "all from each +other," as she said, and it took her longer still to make +names by which she could keep a clear list in her +head. The eldest looked to her quite grown-up, +though in reality she was about thirteen; she was a +big red-cheeked girl, though she lived in a town; her +arms were red too, poor thing, especially in winter, +for they were seldom or never covered, and she +seemed to be always at work, scrubbing or washing, +or running out to fetch two or three of the little ones +in from playing in the gutter. Peggy called her +"Reddy," and though it was the girl's red cheeks and +arms which made her first choose the name, in a while +she came to think of it as meaning "ready" also, +for Peggy did not know much about spelling as yet, +and the thought in her mind of the look of the two +words was the same. For a good while Peggy fancied +that Reddy was the nurse or servant of the family, +but one day when she said something of the kind to +her own nurse she was quickly put right.</p> + +<p>"Their servant, my dear! Bless you, no. How<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> +could they afford to keep a servant; they've hard +enough work to keep themselves, striving folk though +they seem. There's such a many of them, you see, +and mostly so little—save that big girl and the sister +three below her, there's none really to help the +mother. And the cripple must be a great charge."</p> + +<p>"What's the cripple, nursey?" Peggy asked.</p> + +<p>"Why, Miss Peggy, haven't you noticed the +white-faced girl on crutches? You must have seen +her dragging up and down in front of the house of a +fine day."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Peggy, "but I didn't know that +was called cripple. And she's quite little; she's as +little as me, nurse!"</p> + +<p>"She's older than she looks, poor thing," said +nurse—"maybe oldest of them all."</p> + +<p>This, however, Peggy could not believe. She +fixed in her own mind that "Crippley" came after +the two boys who were evidently next to Reddy—she +did not give the boys names, for they did not +interest her as much as the girls. Having so many +brothers of her own and no sister, it seemed to her +as if a sister must be the very nicest thing in the +world, and of all the children at the back, the two +that she liked most to watch were a pair of little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span> +girls about three years older than herself, whom she +named "The Smileys," "Brown Smiley" and "Light +Smiley" when she thought of them separately, for +though they were very like each other, the colour of +their hair was different. They were very jolly little +girls, poorly clad and poorly fed though they were, +taking life easily, it seemed—too easily in the +opinion of their eldest sister Reddy, and the sister +next above them—between them and Crippley, +according to Peggy's list. This sister was the only +one whose real name Peggy knew, by hearing it so +frequently shouted after her by the mother and +Reddy. For this child, "Mary-Hann," was rather +deaf, though it was not till long afterwards that +Peggy found this out.</p> + +<p>"Mary-Hann" was a patient stupid sort of girl, +a kind of second in command to Reddy, and she was +like Reddy in appearance, except that she was +several sizes smaller and thinner, so that even supposing +that her arms were as red as her sister's they +did not strike one in the same way.</p> + +<p>Below the Smileys came another boy, who was +generally to be seen in their company, and who, +according to Peggy, rejoiced in the name of "Tip." +And below Tip were a few babies, in reality I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span> +believe never more than three, during the years +through which their little over-the-way neighbour +watched them. But even she was obliged to give +up hopes of classifying the babies, for there always +seemed to be <i>a</i> baby about the same age, and one or +two others just struggling into standing or rather +tumbling alone, and for ever being picked up by +Reddy or her attendant sprite Mary-Hann.</p> + +<p>Such were Peggy's "children at the back." And +many a dull day when it was too rainy to go a walk, +and too cloudy to be "any use" to gaze out at the +front of the house, did these poor children, little as +they guessed it, help to make pass more quickly +and pleasantly for the sisterless maiden. Many a +morning when Hal and Baby were asleep and nurse +was glad to have an hour or so for a bit of ironing, +or some work of the kind down in the kitchen—for +my Peggy's papa and mamma were not rich and +could not keep many servants, so that nurse, though +she was plain and homely in her ways, was of far +more use than a smarter young woman to them—many +a morning did the little girl, left in the night +nursery in charge of her sleeping brothers, take up +her stand at the window which overlooked Mrs. +Whelan's and the cobbler and the Smileys with all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> +their brothers and sisters. There was always something +new to see or to ask nurse to explain afterwards. +For ever so long it took up Peggy's thoughts, and +gave much conversation in the nursery to "plan" +how the ten or eleven children, not to speak of the +papa and mamma, <i>could</i> all find place in two rooms. +It kept Peggy awake at night, especially if the +weather happened to be at all hot or close, to think +how <i>very</i> uncomfortable poor Reddy and Crippley +and Mary-Hann and the Smileys must be, all sleeping +in one bed as nurse said was too probably the +case. And it was the greatest relief to her mind, +and to nurse's too, I do believe, to discover by means +of some cautious inquiries of the cobbler when nurse +took him over some of the boys' boots to mend, that +the family was not so short of space as they had +feared.</p> + +<p>"They've two other rooms, Miss Peggy, as doesn't +show to the front," said nurse, "two attics with sloping +windows in the roof to their back again. And +they're striving folk, he says, as indeed any one may +see for theirselves."</p> + +<p>"Then how shall we plan it now, I wonder," said +Peggy, looking across to the Smileys' mansion with +new respect. But nurse had already left the room,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> +and perhaps, now she was satisfied their neighbours +were not quite so much to be pitied, would scarcely +have had patience to listen to Peggy's "wonderings" +about them. So the little girl went on to herself—</p> + +<p>"I should think the downstairs room is the +papa's and mamma's and the teeniest baby's, and +perhaps Crippley sleeps there, as she's ill, like me +when I had the hooping-cough and I couldn't sleep +and mamma kept jumping up to me. And then the +big boys and Tip has one room—'ticks,' nurse calls +the rooms with windows in the roof. I think I'd +like to sleep in a 'tick' room; you must see the +stars so plain without getting up; and—and—let +me see, Reddy and Mary-Hann and the Smileys and +the old babies—no, that's too many—and I don't +know how many old babies there is. We'll say <i>one</i>—if +there's another it must be a boy and go in the +boys' tick—and that makes Reddy and Mary——"</p> + +<p>"Miss Peggy, your mamma's ready for your +lessons," came the housemaid's voice at the door, and +Peggy hurried off. But she was rather in a brown +study at her lessons that morning. Mamma could not +make her out at all, till at last she shut up the +books for a minute and made Peggy tell her where +her thoughts were wool-gathering.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not so very far away, mamma dear," said Peggy, +laughing. She never could help laughing when +mamma said "funny things like that." "Not so +very far away. I was only wondering about the +children at the back."</p> + +<p>She called them always "the children at the +back" when she spoke of them—for even to mamma +she would have felt shy of telling her own names +for them. And then she went on to repeat what +nurse had heard from the cobbler. Mamma agreed +that it was very interesting, and she too was pleased +to think "the children at the back's house," as +Peggy called it, was more commodious than might +have been expected. But still, even such interesting +things as that must not be allowed to interfere +with lessons, Peggy must put it all out of her head +till they were done with, and then mamma would +talk about it with her.</p> + +<p>"Only, mamma," said Peggy, "I don't know what +com—commo—that long word you said, means."</p> + +<p>"I should not have used it, perhaps," said mamma. +"And yet I don't know. If we only used the words +you understand already, you would never learn new +ones—eh, Peggy! Commodious just means large, +and not narrow and squeezed up."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy nodded her head, which meant that she +quite understood, and then the lessons went on +smoothly again.</p> + +<p>When they were over, mamma talked about poor +people, especially about poor children, to Peggy, +and explained to her more than she had ever done +before about what being poor really means. It +made Peggy feel and look rather sad, and once or +twice mamma was afraid she was going to cry, +which, of course, she did not wish her to do. But +Peggy choked down the crying feeling, because she +knew it would make her mother sorry and would +not do the poor people any good.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, "it <i>neely</i> makes me cry, but +I won't. But when I'm big can't I do something +for the children at the back?"</p> + +<p>"They won't be children then, Peggy dear. You +may be able to do something for them without +waiting for that. I'll think about it. I don't fancy +they are so <i>very</i> poor. As I have been telling you, +there are many far poorer. But I daresay they have +very few pleasures in their lives. We might try +to think of a little sunshine for them now and then."</p> + +<p>"The Smile——" began Peggy, but she stopped +suddenly, growing red—"the littler ones do play a good<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span> +deal in the gutter, mamma dear," she said, anxious +to state things quite fairly; "but I don't think that's +<i>very</i> nice play, and the sun very seldom shines there. +And Red—the big ones, mamma dear, and the one +that goes on—I can't remember the name of those +sticks."</p> + +<p>"Crutches," said mamma.</p> + +<p>"Yes, crutches—<i>her</i> never has no plays at all, I +don't think. She'd have more sunshine at the +'nother side of our house, mamma dear."</p> + +<p>Mamma smiled. Peggy did not understand that +mamma did not mean "sunshine" exactly as she +took it; she forgot, too, that of actual sunshine more +fell on the back street than she thought of. For it +was only on dull or rainy days that she looked out +much on the children at the back. On fine days +her eyes were busy in another direction.</p> + +<p>"I'll think about it," said mamma. So Peggy +for the present was satisfied.</p> + +<p>This talk about the Smileys and the rest of them +had been a day or two before the morning on which +we first saw Peggy—the morning that Thor tried so +to make fun of her about choosing sugar in her +bread and milk, because it was cold. Mamma had +not said any more about the children at the back,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span> +and this particular morning Peggy herself was not +thinking very much about them. Her head was +running a good deal on the white cottage and all her +fancies about it, and she was feeling rather disappointed +that she had not succeeded better in amusing +Hal by her stories.</p> + +<p>"It must be, I suppose," she said to herself, "that +he's rather too little for that kind of fancy stories. +I wonder if Baldwin would like them; it would be +nice to have somebody to make fancies with me."</p> + +<p>But somehow Baldwin and the fairy cottage did +not seem to match. And Thor and Terry were both +much too big—Thor would laugh at her, and Terry +would think it <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original omits this word">a</ins> waste of time; he had so many other +things to amuse himself about. No, Peggy could +not think of any one who would "understand," she +decided, with a sigh!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IV</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>"REAL" FANCIES<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Mine be a cot beside the hill."<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 10.5em;"><span class="smcap">Samuel Rogers.</span></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Just</span> then came the usual summons to her lessons. +Mamma was waiting for her little girl in the corner +of the drawing-room, where she always sat when +she was teaching Peggy. It was a very nice corner, +near the fire, for though it was not winter it was +rather chilly, and mamma often felt cold. Thor +used to tell her that she should take a good run or +have a game of cricket to warm her; it would be +much better than sitting near the fire. Peggy +thought it was rather unkind of Thor to say so, but +mamma only laughed at him, so perhaps it was just +his boy way of speaking.</div> + +<p>Peggy said her lessons quite well, but she looked +rather grave; no smiles lighted up her face, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span> +when lessons were over she sat still without speaking, +and seemed as if she scarcely knew what she +wanted to do with herself.</p> + +<p>"Is there anything the matter, dear?" mamma +asked.</p> + +<p>"I'm rather tired, I think, mamma," Peggy +replied.</p> + +<p>"Tired!" mamma repeated, in some surprise. It +wasn't often that Peggy talked of being tired. +"What is that with? You've not been worrying +yourself about the children who live over Mrs. +Whelan's, I hope? You mustn't do that, you know, +dear; it would do you harm and them no good."</p> + +<p>For mamma knew that Peggy sometimes did +"worry" about things—"Once she takes a thing in +her head she'll work herself up so, for all she seems +so quiet," nurse would say.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma dear," Peggy replied; "I'm not +tired because of that. I like thinking about the +children at the back. I wish——"</p> + +<p>"What?" said mamma.</p> + +<p>"I wish I'd sisters like them. I'm rather lonely, +mamma. I do think God might have gaved <i>one</i> +sister to Peggy, and not such a great lot to the +children at the back."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span></p> + +<p>"But you have your brothers, my dear little girl. +You might have been an only child."</p> + +<p>"The big ones is always neely at school, and +Hal's too little to understand. It's Hal that's tired +me, mamma dear. He was so d'edfully cross afore +nurse put him to bed."</p> + +<p>"Cross, was he?" said mamma. "I'm afraid he +must be getting those last teeth. He may be cross +for some time; if so, it would not do to leave him." +She seemed to be speaking to herself, but when she +caught sight of Peggy's puzzled face she stopped. +"Tell me about Hal, dear," she went on. "What +was it that tired you so?"</p> + +<p>"I was trying to amuse him and tell him stories +about my white cottage up on the hill, and he was +so cross. He couldn't understand, and he said they +was 'nonsense' stories."</p> + +<p>"He is too little, perhaps, to care for fancies," said +her mother, consolingly. "You must wait till he is +a little older, Peggy dear."</p> + +<p>"But when he's older he'll be a <i>boy</i>, mamma," +said Peggy; "he'll be like Thor and Terry, who don't +care for things like that, or Baldwin, who thinks +stories stupid. Oh, mamma, I wish I had a sister. +<i>That's</i> what I want," she added, with conviction.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mamma smiled.</p> + +<p>"Poor Peggy," she said. "I'm afraid it can't be +helped. You can never have a sister near your own +age, and I'm afraid a baby sister, even if you had one, +would be no good."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, we've had enough babies," said Peggy, +decidedly. "But, mamma, mightn't there be some +little girl who'd play with me like a sister? If there +<i>is</i> a fairy living in that cottage, mamma, how I do +wish she would find a little girl for me!"</p> + +<p>Mamma looked a very little bit troubled.</p> + +<p>"Peggy dear," she said, "you mustn't let your +fancies run away with you too far. I told you they +would do you no harm if you kept plain in your head +that they <i>were</i> fancies, but you mustn't forget that. +You know there couldn't really be a fairy living in +that little white cottage."</p> + +<p>"No," Peggy agreed, "I know that, mamma, because +fairies <i>really</i> live in fairyland."</p> + +<p>She looked up gravely into her mother's face +as she said so. Mamma could not help laughing.</p> + +<p>"Fairies <i>really</i>," she said, "live in Peggy's funny +little head, and in many other funny little heads, I +have no doubt. But nowhere——"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 459px;"> +<img src="images/i005.jpg" width="459" height="700" alt=""Mama dear," she began...." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Mamma, mamma," Peggy interrupted, putting<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> +her fingers in her ears as she spoke, "I <i>won't</i> listen. +You mustn't, mustn't say that. I must have my +fairies, mamma. I've no sisters."</p> + +<p>"Well, keep them in fairyland then, or at least +only let them out for visits now and then. But don't +mix them up with real things too much, or you will +get quite a confusion, and never be sure if you're +awake or dreaming."</p> + +<p>Peggy seemed to consider this over very seriously. +After a minute or too she lifted her face again, and +looked straight into her mother's with her earnest +gray eyes.</p> + +<p>"Mamma dear," she began, "will you tell me +what the little white house is <i>reely</i> like, then? If +you will, I'll promise not to think there's fairies +there—only——"</p> + +<p>"Only what, dear?"</p> + +<p>"If you don't mind," said Peggy, very anxious not +to hurt her mother's feelings, "I'd <i>rather</i> not have +pigs. I don't think I like pigs very much."</p> + +<p>"Well, we needn't have pigs then. But remember +I can only 'fancy' it. I've never seen that particular +cottage, you see, Peggy. But I have seen other +cottages in Brackenshire, and so I can fancy what it +<i>most likely</i> is. You see there are different kinds of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> +fancying—there's fancying that is all fancy, like +fairy stories, and there's fancying that might be true +and real, and that very likely is true and real. Do +you understand?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, drawing a deep breath. "Well, +mamma, go on real-fancying, please. What's that +place you've been at—Brat—what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Brackenshire," mamma replied. "That's the +name of that part of the country that we see far off, +from the windows upstairs."</p> + +<p>"And is all the cottages white there, and is they +<i>very</i> pretty?" asked Peggy, with deep interest. "Oh, +mamma, do tell me, quick."</p> + +<p>"I don't know if they're all white, but I think +they are mostly. And there are some pretty and +some ugly. Of course it depends a good deal upon +the people that live in them. If they're nice, clean, +busy people, who like their house to be neat and +pretty, and work hard to keep it so, of course it's +much more likely to be so than if they were careless +and lazy."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Peggy, clasping her hands. "I do so +hope my cottage has nice people living in it. I +<i>think</i> it has, don't you, mamma? It looks <i>so</i> white."</p> + +<p>"My dear Peggy," said mamma, smiling, "we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span> +can't tell, when it's so far away. But we may +hope so."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, "we'll hope so, and we'll +think so." But then a rather puzzled look came over +her face again, though she smiled too. "Mamma," +she went on, "there's such a funny thing come into +my head, only I don't know quite how to say it. I +think that the far-away helps to make it pretty—why +is far-away so pretty, mamma?"</p> + +<p>Mamma smiled again.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid I can't tell you why. Wouldn't it +spoil some things if we knew the why of them, little +Peggy?"</p> + +<p>Peggy did not answer. This was another new +thought for her, and rather a difficult one. She put +it away in her mind, in one of the rather far back +cupboards there, and locked it up, to think about it +afterwards.</p> + +<p>"Mamma," she said, coaxingly, "I want you to +tell me a real fancy about the cottage. It will be so +nice when I look at it to think it's most likely <i>reely</i> +like that."</p> + +<p>"Well, then, let us see," mamma began.</p> + +<p>"Wait just one minute, mamma dear, till I've +shut my eyes. First I must get the bluey hills and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> +the white spot into them, and then I'll shut them +and see what you tell. Yes—that's all right now."</p> + +<p>So mamma went on.</p> + +<p>"I fancy a cottage on the side of a hill. The +cottage is white, of course, and the hill is green. Not +very green—a kind of brown-green, for the grass is +short and close, nibbled by the sheep and cows that +find their living on the hill most of the year. The +cottage is very white, for last summer it had a nice +wash all over, and that lasts clean a good while in the +country. There is a little low wall round it shutting +it in from the hillside, and this wall is not very white, +though it once was so, for it is covered with creeping +plants, so that you can scarcely see what its own +colour is. At the front of the house there is a little +garden, quite a tiny one—there are potatoes and +gooseberry bushes and cabbages at one side, but in +front of them are some nice old-fashioned flowers, +and at the other side there are strawberry plants, +and behind them some rose-bushes. In summer I +am sure there will be some pretty roses."</p> + +<p>"Oh how nice," said Peggy; "go on, go on, please."</p> + +<p>"There is a funny little wooden shed behind the +house, leaning against the wall, which has a door big +enough for a child to go in by, or a big person if<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> +they stooped down very much, and besides this it has +a <i>very</i> little door in the wall, leading on to the hillside. +Can you guess what the shed is for, Peggy, +and what the tiny door is for?"</p> + +<p>Peggy thought and thought, but her country knowledge +was but scanty.</p> + +<p>"I can't think," she said. "It couldn't be for +pigs, 'cos there isn't any in the cottage. Nor it +couldn't be for cows, 'cos cows is so big."</p> + +<p>"What should you say to cocks and hens, Peggy? +There are to be fresh eggs there, aren't there? And +chickens sometimes. I rather think they take eggs +and chickens to market, don't they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, I'm sure they do. How stupid I am! +Of course the little wooden house is for cocks and +hens. You're making it lovelily, mamma. What is +it like inside, and who lives in it? I do so want to +know."</p> + +<p>"Inside?" said mamma. "I'm almost afraid you +might be disappointed, Peggy, if you've never been +in a real cottage. There are so many that look very +pretty outside and are not at all pretty inside. But +at least we may think it is neat and clean. There +are only two rooms, Peggy—a kitchen which you go +straight into, and another room which opens out of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span> +it. The kitchen is very bright and pleasant; there +is a table before the window with some flower-pots +on it, in which both winter and summer there are +plants growing. There is a large cupboard of dark +old wood standing against the wall, and a sort of +sofa that is called a settle with cushions covered +with red cotton, standing near the fireplace. There +are shelves, too, on which stand some dishes and two +or three shining pots and pans, the ugly black ones +are kept in a little back kitchen where most of the +cooking is done, so that the front kitchen should be +kept as nice as possible."</p> + +<p>"That makes another room, mamma dear. You +said there was only two."</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it's so very tiny you couldn't call it a +room. The second room is a bedroom, but the best +pieces of furniture are kept there. There is a nice +chest of drawers and a rocking-chair, and there +is a very funny wooden cradle, standing right +down on the floor, not at all like Baby's cot. +And in this cradle is a nice, fat, bright-eyed little +baby."</p> + +<p>"A baby," said Peggy, doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes, to be sure. There's always a baby in a +cottage, unless you'd rather have a very old couple<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> +whose babies are grown-up men and women, out in +the world."</p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, "I don't want that. A very +old woman in a cottage would be <i>razer</i> like a witch, +or else it could make me think of Red Riding-Hood's +grandmother, and that is <i>so</i> sad. No, I don't mind +the baby if it has a nice mamma—but only one +baby, pelease, mamma dear. I don't want <i>lots</i>, like +the children at the back, they're always tumbling +about and sc'eaming so."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, we won't have it like that. We'll only +have one baby—a very contented nice baby, and its +mamma is very nice too. She's got quite a pretty +rosy face, and she stands at the door every morning +to see her husband go off to his work, and every +evening to watch for him coming back again, and +she holds the baby up in her arms and it laughs and +crows."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, "that'll do. And the eggs and +the chickens, mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, she takes great care of the cocks and +hens, and never forgets to go outside the garden to +feed them on the hill, and in the evening they all +come home of themselves through the little door in +the wall. There's a very nice cat in the cottage too;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span> +it sits purring on the front steps on fine days, as if it +thought the cottage and garden and everything else +belonged to it. And——"</p> + +<p>But suddenly the clock struck. Up started +mamma.</p> + +<p>"Peggy, darling, I had no idea it was so late. +And I have to go out the moment after luncheon, +and I have still two letters to write. I am a greater +baby than any of you! Run off, dear, and tell nurse +I want to speak to her before I go out."</p> + +<p>"And to-morrow," said Peggy, "to-morrow, will +you tell me some more about the white cottage, +mamma? It <i>is</i> so nice—I don't think you're a baby +at all, mamma. A baby couldn't make it up so +lovelily."</p> + +<p>And Peggy set off upstairs in great content. The +white spot would give her more pleasure than ever, +now that she knew what sort of <i>real</i> fancies to have +about it.</p> + +<p>"And to-morrow," she said to herself, "to-morrow +mamma will tell me more, lots more. If I say my +lessons very goodly, p'raps mamma will tell me some +more every day. And p'raps Hallie would like those +kinds better than about fairies, and wouldn't call +<i>them</i> nonsense stories."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Poor little Peggy—"to-morrow" brought news +which put her pretty fancies about the white cottage +out of her head for a while.</p> + +<p>She gave her mother's message to nurse, and after +dinner nurse went downstairs. When she came up +again she looked rather grave, and Peggy thought +perhaps she was unhappy about Hal, who was still +cross and had bright red spots on his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Does you think poor Hallie is ill, nurse?" +asked Peggy in a low voice, for Hal not to hear.</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, it's only his teeth. But they'll +make him fractious for a while, I'm afraid, and he's +not a very strong child, not near so strong as Baby +and the big boys."</p> + +<p>"Poor Hallie," said Peggy, with great sympathy. +"I'll be very good to him even if he is very cross, +nurse."</p> + +<p>Nurse did not answer for a minute, and she still +looked very grave.</p> + +<p>"Why do you look so sad, nurse, if it isn't about +Hal?" asked Peggy, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"Did I look sad, Miss Peggy? I didn't know it. +I was thinking about some things your mamma was +speaking of to me."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said Peggy, "was it about our new frocks?<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span> +Mamma and you is always very busy when we need +new frocks, I know."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear," said nurse, but that was all.</p> + +<p>Then Peggy and Hal and nurse and Baby went +out for a walk. They did not go very far, for it was +what nurse called a queer-tempered day. Between +the gleams of blue sky and sunshine there came +sharp little storms and showers. It was April +weather, though April had not yet begun.</p> + +<p>"Which way are we going?" Peggy asked, as +they set off, she and Hal hand-in-hand, just in front +of nurse and the perambulator. She <i>hoped</i> nurse +would say "up Fernley Road," because Fernley Road +led straight on towards the hills—so at least it +seemed to Peggy. Their street ran into Fernley +Road at one end, so that Fernley Road was what is +called at right angles with it, and Peggy felt sure +that if you walked far enough along the road you +<i>could</i> not but come to "the beginning of the hills."</p> + +<p>But to-day Peggy was to be disappointed.</p> + +<p>"We can't go far, Miss Peggy, and we must go to +Field's about Master Hal's new boots. It looks as +if it might rain, so perhaps we'd better go straight +there. You know the way, Miss Peggy?—right on +to the end of this street and then turn to the left."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy gave a little sigh, but trotted on quietly. +Hal began grumbling.</p> + +<p>"What is I to have new boots for?" he said. "I +doesn't want new boots."</p> + +<p>"Oh, Hal," said Peggy, "I think it's very nice +indeed to have new boots. They shine so, and sometimes +they do make such a lovely squeaking."</p> + +<p>But Hal wasn't in a humour to be pleased with +anything, so Peggy tried to change the subject.</p> + +<p>"Nurse says we are to turn to the left at the +end of this street," she said. "Does you know +which is the left, Hal? <i>I</i> do, 'cos of my pocket in +my frock. First I feel for my pocket, and when +it's there I say 'all right,' and then I know that's +the right, and when it isn't there I <i>can't</i> say 'all +right,' and so I know the side it isn't at is the left."</p> + +<p>Hal listened with some interest, but a slight tinge +of contempt for feminine garments.</p> + +<p>"Boys has pockets at each sides, so all boys' sides +is right," he said.</p> + +<p>But Peggy was by this time in the midst of her +researches for her pocket, so she did not argue the +point.</p> + +<p>"Here it is!" she exclaimed, "all right, so the +nother side is left. <i>This</i> way, Hallie," and very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span> +proud to show nurse that she had understood her +directions, she led her little brother down the street +into which they had now turned.</p> + +<p>There were shops in this street, which made it +more amusing than the one in which the children +lived, even though they had seen them so often that +they knew pretty well all that was worth looking at +in the windows—that is to say, in the picture-shops +and the toy-shops, and perhaps in the confectioner's. +All others were passed by as a matter of course. +Field's, the shoemaker's, was not quite so stupid as +some, because under a glass shade, in the midst of +all the real boots and shoes, were half a dozen pairs +of dolls' ones, which Peggy thought quite lovely, +though apparently no one else was of her opinion, +as the tiny things stayed there day after day without +a single pair being sold. Peggy herself could remember +them for what seemed to her a very long +time, and Baldwin, who owned to having admired +them when he was "little," assured her they had +been there since she was quite a baby; he could +remember having "run on" to look at them in the +days when he and Terry had trotted in front and +nurse had perambulated Peggy behind.</p> + +<p>The little boots and shoes came into Peggy's mind<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> +just now, partly perhaps because Hal was hanging +back so, and she was afraid he would be cross if she +asked him to walk quicker.</p> + +<p>"Let's run on and look at the tiny shoes in +Field's window," she said. "We can wait there till +nurse comes up to us. She'll see us."</p> + +<p>This roused Hal to bestir himself, and they were +soon at the shoemaker's.</p> + +<p>"<i>Isn't</i> they sweet?" said Peggy. "If I had a +gold pound of my very own, Hal, I'd buy some of +them."</p> + +<p>"Would you?" said Hal, doubtfully. "No, if <i>I</i> +had a gold pound I'd——"</p> + +<p>But just then nurse came up to them and they +were all marched into the shop.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER V</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE LITTLE RED SHOES<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"Pif-paf Pottrie, what trade are you? Are you a tailor?"<br /> +"Better still!" "A shoemaker?"<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><span class="smcap">Brothers Grimm.</span></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">There</span> was another reason why the children liked +Field's shop. At the back of it was a sort of little +room railed off by a low wooden partition with curtains +at the top, into which customers were shown +to try on and be fitted with new boots or shoes. +This little room within a room had always greatly +taken Peggy's fancy; she had often talked it over +with her brothers, and wished they could copy it in +their nursery. Inside it had comfortable cushioned +seats all round, making it look like one of the large, +square, cushioned pews still to be found in some old +churches, pews which all children who have ever +sat in them dearly love.</div> + +<p>There was always some excitement in peeping<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +into this little room to see if any one was already +there; if that were the case the children knew they +should have to be "tried on" in the outer shop. +To-day, however, there was no doubt about the +matter—Miss Field, who acted as her father's shop-woman, +marshalled them all straight into the curtained +recess without delay; there was no one there—and +when Peggy and Hal had with some difficulty +twisted themselves on to the seats with as much +formality as if they were settling themselves in +church, and nurse had explained what they had +come for, the girl began operations by taking off one +of Hal's boots to serve as a pattern for his size.</p> + +<p>"The same make as these, I suppose?" she +asked.</p> + +<p>"No, miss, a little thicker, I think. They're to +be good strong ones for country wear," said nurse.</p> + +<p>Peggy looked up with surprise.</p> + +<p>"For the country, nursie," she said. "He'll have +weared them out before it's time for us to go to the +country. It won't be summer for a long while, and +last year we didn't go even when summer comed."</p> + +<p>Nurse looked a little vexed. Miss Field, though +smiling and good-natured, was not a special favourite +of nurse's; she was too fond of talking, and she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span> +stood there now looking very much amused at +Peggy's remonstrance.</p> + +<p>"If you didn't go to the country last year, Miss +Margaret," said nurse, "more reason that you'll go +this. But little girls can't know everything."</p> + +<p>Peggy opened her eyes and her mouth. She was +just going to ask nurse what was the matter, which +would not have made things better, I am afraid, +when Baby changed the subject by bursting out +crying. Poor Baby—he did not like the little +curtained-off room at all; it was rather dark, and +he felt frightened, and as was of course the most +sensible thing to do under the circumstances, as he +could not speak, he cried.</p> + +<p>"Dear, dear," said nurse, after vainly trying to +soothe him, "he doesn't like being in here, the poor +lamb. He's frightened. I'll never get him quiet +here. Miss Peggy, love," forgetting in her hurry +the presence of Miss Field, for before strangers Peggy +was always "Miss Margaret," with nurse, "I'll have +to put him back in his perambulator at the door, +and if you'll stand beside him he'll be quite content."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 458px;"> +<img src="images/i006.jpg" width="458" height="700" alt=""Baby did not interrupt her...." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>And nurse got up as she spoke. Peggy slid herself +down slowly and reluctantly from her seat; she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> +would have liked to stay and watch Hal being +fitted with boots, and she would have liked still +more to ask nurse what she meant by speaking of +the country so long before the time, but it was +Peggy's habit to do what she was told without delay, +and she knew she could ask nurse what she wanted +afterwards. So with one regretful look back at the +snug corner where Hal was sitting comfortably +staring at his stockinged toes, she trotted across the +shop to the door where Baby, quite restored to good +humour, was being settled in his carriage.</p> + +<p>"There now, he'll be quite happy. Nurse will +come soon, dear. Just let him stay here in the +doorway; he can see all the boots and shoes in the +window—that will amuse him."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, adding in her own mind that +she would have a good look at the dear, tiny dolls' +ones and fix which she would like to buy if she had +the money.</p> + +<p>Baby did not interrupt her; he was quite content +now he was out in the light and the open air, and +amused himself after his own fashion by crowing +and chuckling to the passers-by. So Peggy stood +still, her eyes fixed on the baby shoes. They were +of all colours, black and red and bronze and blue—it<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> +was difficult to say which were the prettiest. +Peggy had almost decided upon a red pair, and was +wondering how much money it would take to buy +them, when some one touched her on the shoulder. +She looked up; a lady was standing behind her, +smiling in amusement.</p> + +<p>"What are you gazing at so, my dear? Is this +your baby in the perambulator? You had better +wheel him a little bit farther back, or may I do so +for you?—he has worked himself too far into the +doorway."</p> + +<p>Peggy looked up questioningly in the lady's face. +Like many children she did not like being spoken to +by strangers in any unceremonious way; she felt as +if it were rather a freedom.</p> + +<p>But the face that met hers was too kind and +bright and pleasant to resist, and though Peggy still +looked grave, it was only that she felt rather shy.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "he's our baby. I was looking +at those sweet little shoes. I didn't see Baby had +pushed hisself away. Thank you," as the lady +gently moved the perambulator a little farther to +one side.</p> + +<p>"You and Baby are not alone? Are you waiting +for some one?" she asked.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nurse is having Hal tried on for new boots," +Peggy replied, "and Baby didn't like the shop 'cos +it were rather dark."</p> + +<p>"And so his kind little sister is taking care of +him. I see," said the lady. "And what are the +sweet little shoes you like so much to look at? +Are they some that would fit Baby?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Peggy, "they'd be too little for +him. Baby <i>is</i> rather fat. Oh no, it's <i>those</i> under +the glass basin turned upside down," and she pointed +to the dolls' shoes. "Aren't they lovely? I've seen +them ever since I was quite little—I suppose they'd +cost a great lot," and Peggy sighed.</p> + +<p>"Which do you think the prettiest?" asked the +lady.</p> + +<p>"The red ones," Peggy replied.</p> + +<p>"Well, I almost think I agree with you," said the +lady. "Good-bye, my dear, don't let Baby run +himself out into the street." And with a kind smile +she went on into the shop.</p> + +<p>She passed back again in a few minutes.</p> + +<p>"Still there?" she said, nodding to Peggy, and +then she made her way down the street and was +soon out of sight. Peggy's attention, since the lady +had warned her, had been entirely given to Baby,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span> +otherwise she might perhaps have noticed a very +wonderful thing that had happened in the shop-window. +The pair of red dolls' shoes was no longer +there! They had been quietly withdrawn from the +case in which they, with their companions, had spent +a peaceful, but it must be allowed a rather dull life +for some years.</p> + +<p>In another minute nurse and Hal made their +appearance, and Hal had a parcel, which he was +clutching tightly in both hands.</p> + +<p>"My new boots is <i>so</i> shiny," he said, "I do so +hope they'll squeak. Does you think they will, +nursie? But isn't poor Peggy to have new boots, +too? <i>Poor</i> Peggy!"</p> + +<p>Peggy looked down at her feet.</p> + +<p>"Mine isn't wored out yet," she said; "it would +take all poor mamma's money to buy new boots for +us <i>all</i>."</p> + +<p>"Never fear," said nurse, who heard rather a +martyr tone in Peggy's voice, "you'll not be forgotten, +Miss Peggy. But Master Hal, hadn't you +better put your boots in the perambulator? You'll +be tired of carrying them, for we're not going straight +home."</p> + +<p>Hal looked as if he were going to grumble at this,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> +but before he had time to say anything, Miss Field +came hurrying out of the shop.</p> + +<p>"Oh, you're still here," she said; "that's all right. +The lady who's just left told father to give this little +parcel to missie here," and she held out something +to Peggy, who was so astonished that for a moment +or two she only stared at the girl without offering to +take the tiny packet.</p> + +<p>"For me," she said at last.</p> + +<p>"Yes, missie, to be sure—for you, as I say."</p> + +<p>Peggy took the parcel, and began slowly to undo it. +Something red peeped out—Peggy's eyes glistened—then +her cheeks grew nearly as scarlet as the contents +of the packet, and she seemed to gasp for breath, as +she held out for Hal and nurse to see the little red +shoes which five minutes before she had been admiring +under the glass shade.</p> + +<p>"Nursie, Hal," she exclaimed, "see, oh see! The +sweet little shoes—for me—for my very own."</p> + +<p>Nurse was only too ready to be pleased, but with +the prudence of a "grown-up" person she hesitated +a moment.</p> + +<p>"Are you sure there's no mistake, miss?" she +said, anxiously. "Do you know the lady's name? +Is she a friend of Missis's, I wonder?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span></p> + +<p>The girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"Can't say, I'm sure," she replied. "She's a +stranger to us. She only just bought a pair of cork +soles and these here. There's no mistake, that, I'm +sure of. She must have seen the young lady was +admiring of them."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, "she asked me which was the +prettiest, and I said the red ones."</p> + +<p>"You see?" said Miss Field to nurse. "Well, +missie, I hope as they'll fit Miss Dolly, and then +you'll give us your custom when they're worn out, +won't you?"</p> + +<p>And with a good-natured laugh she turned back +into the shop.</p> + +<p>"It's all right, nursie, isn't it? Do say it is. +I may keep them; they <i>is</i> mine, isn't they?" said +Peggy, in very unusual excitement.</p> + +<p>Nurse still looked undecided.</p> + +<p>"I don't quite know what to say, my dear," she +replied. "We must ask your mamma. I shouldn't +think she'd object, seeing as it was so kindly meant. +And we can't give back the shoes now they're bought +and paid for. It wouldn't be fair to the lady to +give them back to Field just to be sold again. It +wasn't <i>him</i> she wanted to give a present to."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, trotting along beside the perambulator +and clasping her little parcel as Hal was +clasping his bigger one, "it was <i>me</i> she wanted to +please. She's a <i>very</i> kind lady, isn't she, nursie? +I'm sure they cost a great lot of money—p'raps a +pound. Oh! I do so hope mamma will say I may +keep them for my very own. Can't we go home +now this minute to ask her?"</p> + +<p>"We shouldn't find her in if we did," said nurse, +"and we've had nothing of a walk so far. But don't +you worry, Miss Peggy. I'm sure your mamma will +not mind."</p> + +<p>Peggy's anxious eager little face calmed down at +this; a corner of the paper in which her treasures +were wrapped up was torn. She saw the scarlet +leather peeping out, and a gleam of delight danced +out of her eyes; she bent her head down and kissed +the speck of bright colour ecstatically, murmuring +to herself as she did so, "Oh, how happy I am!"</p> + +<p>Nurse overheard the words.</p> + +<p>"Missis will never have the heart to take them +from her, poor dear," she thought. "She'll be only +too pleased for Miss Peggy to have something to +cheer her up when she has to be told about our +going."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>And Peggy, in blissful ignorance of any threatening +cloud to spoil her pleasure, marched on, scarcely +feeling the ground beneath her feet; as happy as if +the tiny red shoes had been a pair of fairy ones to +fit her own little feet.</p> + +<p>Mamma was not at home when they got in, even +though they made a pretty long round, coming back +by Fernley Road, which, however, Peggy did not +care about as much as when they set off by it. For +coming back, of course she could not see the hills +without turning round, nor could she have the feeling +that every step was taking her nearer to them. +The weather was clearing when they came in; from +the nursery window the sky towards the west had +a faint flush upon it, which looked as if the sunset +were going to be a rosy one.</p> + +<p>"Red at night," Peggy said to herself as she +glanced out; "nursie, that means a fine day, doesn't +it?"</p> + +<p>"So they say," nurse replied.</p> + +<p>"Then it'll be a fine day to-morrow, and I'll see +the cottage, and I'll put the little shoes on the +window-sill, so that they shall see it too—the <i>dear</i> +little sweets," chattered the child to herself.</p> + +<p>Hal meanwhile was seated on the floor, engaged<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> +in a more practical way, namely, <i>trying</i> to try on his +new boots. But "new boots," as he said himself, +"is stiff." Hal pulled and tugged till he grew very +red in the face, but all in vain.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Peggy!" he said, "do help me. I does so +want to hear them squeak, and to 'upprise the boys +when they come in."</p> + +<p>Down went kind Peggy on the floor, and thanks +to her the boots were got on, though the buttoning of +them was beyond her skill. Hal was quite happy, though.</p> + +<p>"They do squeak, don't they, Peggy?" he said; +"and nurse'll let me wear them a little for them to +get used to my feet 'afore we go to the country."</p> + +<p>"You mean for your feet to get used to them, +Hallie," said Peggy. "But there's lots of time for +that. Why, they'll be half wored out before we go +to the country if you begin them now."</p> + +<p>"'Tisn't nonsense," said Hal, sturdily. "Nurse +said so to that girl in the shop."</p> + +<p>Peggy felt very puzzled.</p> + +<p>"But, Hal," she was beginning, when a voice +interrupted her. It was nurse. She had been downstairs, +having heard the front door bell ring.</p> + +<p>"Miss Peggy, your mamma wants you. She's +come in. You'll find her in her own room."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Nursie," she said, "Hal's been saying——"</p> + +<p>"You mustn't keep your mamma waiting," said +nurse. "I've told her about the little shoes."</p> + +<p>"I'll take them to show her—won't she be +pleased?" said Peggy, seizing the little parcel which +she had put down while helping Hal.</p> + +<p>And off she set.</p> + +<p>She stopped at her mother's door; it was only +half shut, so she did not need to knock.</p> + +<p>"Mamma dear, it's me—Peggy," she said.</p> + +<p>"Come in, darling," mamma's voice replied.</p> + +<p>"I've brought you the <i>sweet</i> little red shoes to +see," said Peggy, carefully unfolding the paper which +held her treasures, and holding them out for mamma's +admiration.</p> + +<p>"They are very pretty indeed—really lovely little +shoes," she said, handling them with care, but so as +to see them thoroughly. "It was <i>very</i> kind of that +lady. I wonder who she was? Of course in a +general way I wouldn't like you to take presents +from strangers, but she must have done it in such a +very nice way. Was she an old lady, Peggy?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" said Peggy, "quite old. She was +neely as big as you, mamma dear. I daresay she's +<i>neely</i> as old as you are."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mamma began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"You little goose," she said. But Peggy didn't +see anything to laugh at in what she had said, and +her face remained quite sober.</p> + +<p>"I don't understand you, mamma dear," she said.</p> + +<p>"Well, listen then; didn't Hal buy a pair of new +boots for himself to-day?" mamma began.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma dear. Nurse buyed them <i>for</i> he," +Peggy replied.</p> + +<p>"Or rather <i>I</i> bought them, for it was my money +nurse paid for them with, if you are so very precise, +Miss Peggy. But never mind about that. All I +want you to understand is the difference between +'big' and 'old.' Hal's boots are much bigger than +these tiny things, but they are not on that account +<i>older</i>."</p> + +<p>Peggy began to laugh.</p> + +<p>"No, mamma dear. P'raps Hallie's boots is +younger than my sweet little red shoes, for they +has been a great long while in the shop window, and +Baldwin and Terry sawed them when they was +little."</p> + +<p>"Not 'younger,' Peggy dear; 'newer,' you mean. +Boots aren't alive. You only speak of live things +as 'young.'"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy sighed.</p> + +<p>"It is rather difficult to understand, mamma +dear."</p> + +<p>"It will all come by degrees," said mamma. +"When I was a little girl I know I thought for a +long time that the moon was the mamma of the +stars, because she looked so much bigger."</p> + +<p>"I think that's very nice, mamma, though, of +course, I understand it's only a <i>fancy</i> fancy. I +haven't seen the moon for a long time, mamma. +May I ask nurse to wake me up the next time the +moon comes?"</p> + +<p>"You needn't wait till dark to see the moon," +said mamma. "She can often be seen by daylight, +though, of course, she doesn't look so pretty then, as +in the dark sky which shows her off better. But, of +course, the sky here is so often dull with the smoke +of the town that we can't see her as clearly in the +daytime as where the air is purer."</p> + +<p>"Like in the country, mamma," said Peggy. +"It's <i>always</i> clear in the country, isn't it?"</p> + +<p>"Not quite always," said mamma, smiling. "But, +Peggy dear, speaking of the country——"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes!" Peggy interrupted, "I want to tell +you, mamma, what a silly thing Hallie <i>would</i> say<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> +about going to the country;" and she told her mother +all that Hal had said about his boots, and indeed what +nurse had said too; "and nursie was just a weeay, +teeny bit cross to me, mamma dear," said Peggy, +plaintively. "She wouldn't say she'd mistooked +about it."</p> + +<p>Mamma looked rather grave, and instead of saying +at once that of course nurse had only meant +that Hal's boots should last till the summer, she +took Peggy on her knee and kissed her—kissed her +in rather a "funny" way, thought Peggy, so that she +looked up and said—</p> + +<p>"Mamma dear, why do you kiss me like that?"</p> + +<p>Instead of answering, mamma kissed her again, +which almost made Peggy laugh.</p> + +<p>But mamma was not laughing.</p> + +<p>"My own little Peggy," she said, "I have something +to tell you which I am afraid will make you +unhappy. It is making <i>me</i> very unhappy, I know."</p> + +<p>"Poor dear little mamma," said Peggy, and as +she spoke she put up her little hand and stroked +her mother's face. "Don't be unhappy if it isn't +anything <i>very</i> bad. Tell Peggy about it, mamma +dear."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VI</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"If I'd as much money as I could tell<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">I never would cry 'old clothes to sell'!"</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 12em;"><i>London Cries.</i></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Mamma</span> hesitated a moment. Then she began.</div> + +<p>"You know, Peggy, my pet," she said, "for a good +while now I haven't been as strong and well as I +used to be——"</p> + +<p>"Stop, mamma, stop," said Peggy, with a sort of +cry, and as she spoke she threw up her hands and +pressed them hard against her ears; "I know what +you're going to say, but I can't bear it, no, I can't. +Oh mamma, you're not to say you're going to die."</p> + +<p>For all answer mamma caught Peggy into her +arms and kissed her again and again. For a minute +or two it seemed as if she could not speak, but at +last she got her voice. And then, rather to Peggy's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> +surprise, she saw that although there were tears in +mamma's eyes, and even one or two trickling down +her face, she was smiling too.</p> + +<p>"My darling Peggy," she said, "did I frighten +you? I am so, so sorry. Oh no, darling, it is nothing +like that. Please God I shall live to see my Peggy +as old as I am now, and older, I hope. No, no, dear, +it is nothing so very sad I was going to tell you. It +is only that the doctor says the best way for me to +get quite well and strong again is to go away for a +while to have change of air as it is called, in some +nice country place."</p> + +<p>"In the country," said Peggy, her eyes brightening +with pleasure. "Oh, how nice! will it perhaps be +that country where my cottage is? Oh, dear mamma, +how lovely! And when are we to go? May we +begin packing to-day? And how could you think it +would make me unhappy——" she went on, suddenly +remembering what her mother had said at first.</p> + +<p>Mamma's face did not brighten up at all.</p> + +<p>"Peggy dear, it is very hard for me to tell you," +she said. "Of course, if we had all been going together +it would have been only happy. But that's +just the thing. I can't take you with me, my sweet. +Baby must go, because nurse must, and Hallie too.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span> +But the friend I am going to stay with can't have +more of us than the two little ones, and nurse, and +me—it is very, very good of her to take so many."</p> + +<p>"Couldn't I sleep with you, mamma dear?" said +Peggy in a queer little voice, the tone of which went +to mamma's heart.</p> + +<p>"My pet, Hallie must sleep with me, as it is. My +friend's house isn't very big. And there's another +reason why I can't take you—I'm not sure if you +could understand——"</p> + +<p>"Tell it me, please, mamma."</p> + +<p>"The lady I am going to had a little girl just like +you—I mean just the same age, and rather like you +altogether, I think. And the poor little girl died +two years ago, Peggy. Since then it is a pain to her +mother to see other little girls. When you are +bigger and not so like what her little girl was, I +daresay she won't mind."</p> + +<p>Peggy had been listening, her whole soul in her +eyes.</p> + +<p>"I understand," she said. "I wouldn't like to go +if it would make that lady cry—if it hadn't been for +that—oh mamma, I could have squeezed myself up +so very tight in the bed! You and Hallie wouldn't +have knowed I were there. But I wouldn't like to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> +make her cry. I am so sorry about that little girl. +Mamma, how is it that dying is so nice, about going +to heaven, you know, and <i>still</i> it is so sorry?"</p> + +<p>"There is the parting," said mamma.</p> + +<p>"Yes—that must be it. And, mamma, I hope it +isn't naughty, but if you were to die I'd be <i>very</i> sorry +not to see you again just the same—even if you were +to be a very pretty angel, with shiny clothes and all +that, I'd want you to be my own old mamma."</p> + +<p>"I would be your own old mamma, dear. I am +sure you would feel I was the same."</p> + +<p>"I'm so glad," said Peggy. "Still it is sad to +die," and she sighed. "Mamma dear, you won't +be very long away, will you? It'll only be a little +short parting, won't it?"</p> + +<p>"Only a few weeks, dear. And I hope you won't +be unhappy even though you must be a little +lonely."</p> + +<p>"If only I had a sister," said Peggy.</p> + +<p>But mamma went on to tell her all she had +planned. Miss Earnshaw, a dressmaker who used +sometimes to come and sew, was to be with Peggy as +much as she could. She was a gentle nice girl, and +Peggy liked her.</p> + +<p>"She has several things to make for me just now,"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> +said mamma, "and as she lives near, she will try to +come every day, so that she will be with you at +dinner and tea. And Fanny will help you to dress +and undress, and either she or Miss Earnshaw will +take you a walk every day that it is fine enough. +And then in the evenings, of course, the boys will +be at home, and papa will see you every morning +before he goes."</p> + +<p>"And I daresay he'll come up to see me in bed at +night too," said Peggy. Then she was silent for a +minute or two; the truth was, I think, that she was +trying hard to swallow down a lump in her throat +that <i>would</i> come, and to blink away two or three +tiresome tears that kept creeping up to her eyes.</p> + +<p>Two days later and they were gone. Mamma, +nurse, Hal, and Baby, with papa to see them off, and +two boxes outside the cab, and of course a whole lot +of smaller packages inside.</p> + +<p>Peggy stood at the front-door, nodding and kissing +her hand and making a smile, as broad a one as she +possibly could, to show that she was not crying.</p> + +<p>When they were gone, really gone, and Fanny +had shut the door, she turned kindly to Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Now, Miss Peggy, love, what will you do? Miss +Earnshaw won't be here till to-morrow. I'll try to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> +be ready so as to take you out this afternoon if it's +fine, for it's not a half-holiday. It'd be very dull +for you all day alone—to-morrow the young gentlemen +will be at home as it's Saturday."</p> + +<p>A bright idea struck Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Fanny," she said, "did mamma or nurse say +anything about soap-bubbles?"</p> + +<p>Fanny shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, miss. But I'm sure there'd be no objection +to your playing at them if you liked. I can easy +get a little basin and some soap and water for you. +But have you a pipe?"</p> + +<p>Peggy shook her head.</p> + +<p>"It isn't for me, Fanny, thank you," she said. +"It's for my brothers most. I'd like to make a surprise +for them while mamma's away."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that would be very nice," said Fanny, +who had been charged at all costs to make +Peggy happy. "We'll talk about it. But I'd better +get on with my work, so as to get out a bit this +afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I'll go up to the nursery," said the +little girl.</p> + +<p>The nursery seemed very strange. Peggy had +never seen it look quite so empty. Not only were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> +nurse and the little ones gone, but it seemed as if +everything belonging to them had gone too, for nurse +had sat up late the night before and got up very +early this same morning to put everything into +perfect order before leaving. The tidiness was quite +unnatural. Peggy sat down in a corner and gave a +deep sigh. Just then she did not even care to turn +to the window, where the sunshine was pouring in +brightly, sparkling on the two little scarlet shoes, +standing side by side on the sill, where Peggy placed +them every fine morning, that they might enjoy the +sight of the white cottage on the hill!</p> + +<p>"I almost wish it was raining," she half whispered +to herself, till she remembered how very disagreeable +a wet day would have been for mamma and the +others to travel on. "I hope it will be a sunny day +when they come back," she added, as a sort of make-up +for her forgetfulness.</p> + +<p>And then she got up and wandered into the other +room. Here one of Hal's old shoes, which had fallen +out of a bundle of things to be given away which +nurse had taken downstairs just before going, was +lying on the floor. Peggy stooped and picked it up. +How well she knew the look of Hal's shoes; there +was the round bump of his big toe, and the hole at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span> +the corner where a bit of his red sock used to peep +out! It gave her a strange dreamy feeling as she +looked at it. It seemed as if it could not be true +that Hallie was far away—"far, far away" by this +time, thought Peggy, for she always felt as if the +moment people were in the railway they were whizzed +off hundreds of miles in an instant. She stroked the +poor old shoe lovingly and kissed it. I don't think +just then she would have parted with it for anything; +it would have cost her less to give away the +lovely little scarlet ones.</p> + +<p>The thought of the old clothes turned her mind +to the children at the back.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if nurse gave them any of Hal's and +Baby's old things," she said to herself.</p> + +<p>And she went to the window with a vague idea of +looking to see. She had not watched the Smileys +or their relations much for some days; she had been +busy helping mamma and nurse in various little +ways, and her mind had been very full of the going +away. She almost felt as if she had neglected her +opposite neighbours, though, of course, they knew +nothing about it, and she was quite pleased to see +them all there as usual, or even more than usual. +For it was so fine a day that Reddy and her mother<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span> +were evidently having a grand turn-out—a sort of +spring cleaning, I suppose.</p> + +<p>Small pieces of carpet, and one or two mats, much +the worse for wear, were hanging out at the open +windows. Reddy's head, tied up in a cloth to keep +the dust out of her hair, was to be seen every minute +or two, as she thumped about with a long broom, +and Mary-Hann presently appeared with a pail of +soapy water which she emptied at a grid in the +gutter. Mary-Hann looked rather depressed, but +Reddy's spirits were fully equal to the occasion. +Had the window been open, Peggy felt sure she +would have been able to hear her shouting to her +sister to "look sharp," or to "mind what she was +about," even more vigorously than usual.</p> + +<p>The rest of the family, excepting, of course, the +boys, were assembled on the pavement in front of +Mr. Crick the cobbler's shop. He too had opened +his window to enjoy the fine day, and in the background +he could be dimly seen working, as dingy +and leathery as ever. Mrs. Whelan's frilled cap and +pipe looked out for a moment and then disappeared +again. Apparently just then there was nobody or +nothing she <i>could</i> scold.</p> + +<p>For the poor children on the pavement were<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span> +behaving very quietly. The Smileys had stayed at +home from school to mind the babies, with a view +to smoothing the way for the spring cleaning, no +doubt, and were sitting, each with a child on her +lap, in two little old chairs they had carried down. +Crippley was rocking herself gently in her chair +beside them, and the last baby but two, as Peggy +then thought, was on his knees on the ground, +amusing himself with two or three oyster shells and a +few marbles. All these particulars Peggy, from her +high-up nursery window, could not, of course, see +clearly, but she saw enough to make her sigh deeply +as she thought that after all, the Smileys were much +to be envied.</p> + +<p>"I daresay they're telling theirselves stories," she +said to herself. "They look so comfable."</p> + +<p>Just then the big baby happened to come more in +sight, and she saw that one of the things he was +playing with was a little shoe—an odd one apparently. +He had filled it with marbles, and was pulling +it across the stones. Up jumped Peggy from +her seat on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she exclaimed, though there was no one +to hear, "it must be the nother shoe of this. What +a pity! They'd do for Tip, and p'raps they've<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> +thought there wasn't a nother. How I would like +to take it them! I'll call Fanny and see if she'll +run across with it."</p> + +<p>Downstairs she went, calling Fanny from time to +time as she journeyed. But no Fanny replied; she +was down in the kitchen, and to the kitchen Peggy +knew mamma would not like her to go. She stood +at last in the passage wondering what to do, when, +glancing round, she noticed that the back-door opening +into the yard was temptingly open. Peggy +peeped out—there was no one there, but, still more +tempting, the door leading into the small back street—the +door just opposite the Smiley mansion—stood +open, wide open too, and even from where she was +the little girl could catch sight of the group on the +other side of the narrow street.</p> + +<p>She trotted across the yard, and stood for a +minute, the shoe in her hand, gazing at the six +children. The sound of their voices reached her.</p> + +<p>"Halfred is quite took up with his shoe," said +Brown Smiley. "I told mother she moight as well +give it he—a hodd shoe's no good to nobody."</p> + +<p>"'Tis a pity there wasn't the two of 'em," said +Crippley, in a thin, rather squeaky voice. "They'd a +done bee-yutiful for——"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 459px;"> +<img src="images/i007.jpg" width="459" height="700" alt="'"For Tip—yes, that's what I were thinking," cried an eager little voice...." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"For Tip—yes, that's what <i>I</i> were thinking," +cried an eager little voice. "Here's the other shoe; +I've just founded it."</p> + +<p>And little Peggy, with her neat hair and clean +pinafore, stood in the middle of the children holding +out Hal's slipper, and smiling at them, like an old +friend.</p> + +<p>For a moment or two they were all too astonished +to speak; they could scarcely have stared more had +they caught sight of a pair of wings on her shoulders, +by means of which she had flown down from the +sky.</p> + +<p>Then Light Smiley nudged Crippley, and murmured +something which Peggy could not clearly hear, +about "th' young lady hopposite."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, miss," then said Crippley, not quite +knowing what to say. "Here, Halfred, you'll have +to find summat else to make a carridge of; give us +the shoe—there's a good boy."</p> + +<p>Halfred stopped playing, and still on his knees +on the pavement stared up suspiciously at his sister. +Brown Smiley, by way of taking part in what was +going on, swooped down over him and caught up the +shoe before he saw what she was doing, cleverly +managing to hold her baby on her knee all the same.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span></p> + +<p>"'Ere it be," she said. "Sarah, put Florence on +Lizzie's lap for a minute, and run you upstairs with +them two shoes to mother. They'll do splendid for +Tommy, they will. And thank the young lady."</p> + +<p>Sarah, otherwise Light Smiley, got up obediently, +deposited <i>her</i> baby on Crippley's lap and held out +her hand to Peggy for the other shoe, bobbing as she +did so, with a "Thank you, miss."</p> + +<p>Peggy left off smiling and looked rather puzzled.</p> + +<p>"For Tommy," she repeated. "Who is Tommy? +I thought they'd do for Tip. I——"</p> + +<p>It was now the sisters' turn to stare, but they had +not much time to do so, for Halfred, who had taken +all this time to arrive at the knowledge that his new +plaything had been taken from him, suddenly burst +into a loud howl—so loud, so deliberate and determined, +that Peggy stopped short, and all the group +seemed for a moment struck dumb.</p> + +<p>Brown Smiley was the first to speak.</p> + +<p>"Come, now, Halfred," she said, "where's your +manners? You'd never stop Tommy having a nice +pair o' shoes."</p> + +<p>But Halfred continued to weep—he gazed up at +Peggy, the tears streaming down his smutty face, his +mouth wide open, howling hopelessly.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Poor little boy," said Peggy, looking ready to +cry herself. "I wish I'd a nother old shoe for him."</p> + +<p>"Bless you, miss, he's always a-crying—there's no +need to worry," said Crippley, whose real name was +Lizzie. "Take him in with you, Sarah, and tell +mother he's a naughty boy, that's what he is," and +Light Smiley picked him up and ran off with him in +such a hurry that Peggy stood still repeating "poor +little boy" before she knew what had become of him.</p> + +<p>Quiet was restored, however. Peggy, having +done what she came for, should have gone home, but +the attractions of society were too much for her. +She lingered—Crippley pushed Sarah's empty chair +towards her.</p> + +<p>"Take a seat, miss," she said. "You'll excuse +me not gettin' up. Onst I'm a-sittin' down, it's not +so heasy."</p> + +<p>Peggy looked at her with great interest.</p> + +<p>"Does it hurt much?" she asked.</p> + +<p>Lizzie smiled in a superior way.</p> + +<p>"Bless you," she said again, "<i>hurt's</i> no word for +it. It's hall over—but it's time I were used to it—never +mind about me, missy. I'm sure it was most +obligin' of you to bring the shoe, but won't your +mamma and your nurse scold you?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span></p> + +<p>"My mamma's gone away, and so has my nurse," +said Peggy. "I'm all alone."</p> + +<p>All the eyes looked up with sympathy.</p> + +<p>"Deary me, who'd a thought it?" said Brown +Smiley. "But there must be somebody to do for +you, miss."</p> + +<p>"To what?" asked Peggy. "Of course there's +cook, and Fanny, and my brothers, and my papa when +he comes home."</p> + +<p>Brown Smiley looked relieved. She was only a +very little girl, not more than three years older than +Peggy herself, though she seemed so much more, and +she had really thought that the little visitor meant +to say she was quite, quite by herself.</p> + +<p>"Oh!" she said, "that's not being real alone."</p> + +<p>"But it is," persisted Peggy. "It is very alone, I +can tell you. I've nobody to play with, and nothing +to do 'cept to look out of the window at you playing, +and at the nother window at——"</p> + +<p>"The winder to the front," said Lizzie, eagerly. +"It must be splendid at your front, miss. Father +told me onst you could see the 'ills—ever so far right +away in Brackenshire. Some day if I could but +get along a bit better I'd like fine to go round to +your front, miss. I've never seed a 'ill."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span></p> + +<p>Lizzie was quite out of breath with excitement. +Peggy answered eagerly,</p> + +<p>"Oh I do wish you could come to our day nursery +window. When it's fine you can see the mountings—that's +old, no, big hills, you know. And—on one +of them you can see a white cottage; it does so +shine in the sun."</p> + +<p>"Bless me," said Lizzie, and both the Smileys, +for Sarah had come back by now, stood listening with +open mouths.</p> + +<p>"Father's from Brackenshire," said Light Smiley, +whose real name was Sarah. She spoke rather +timidly, for she was well kept in her place by her +four elder sisters. For a wonder they did not snub +her.</p> + +<p>"Yes, he be," added Matilda, "and he's told us it's +bee-yutiful over there. He lived in a cottage, he did, +when he were a little lad."</p> + +<p>"Mebbe 'tis father's cottage miss sees shining," +ventured Sarah. But this time she was not so +lucky.</p> + +<p>"Rubbish, Sarah," said Lizzie. "There's more'n +one cottage in Brackenshire."</p> + +<p>"And there's a mamma and a baby—and a papa +who goes to work, in my cottage," said Peggy. "So<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span> +I don't think it could be——" but here she grew +confused, remembering that all about the white +cottage was only fancy, and that besides the Smileys' +father <i>might</i> have lived there long ago. She got +rather red, feeling somehow as if it was not very kind +of her not to like the idea of its being his cottage. +She had seen him once or twice; he looked big and +rough, and his clothes were old—she could not fancy +him ever having lived in her dainty white house.</p> + +<p>Just then came a loud voice from the upper story, +demanding Sarah.</p> + +<p>"'Tis Mother Whelan," said Brown Smiley, starting +up. "Rebecca said as how I was to run of an +errant for her. It's time I were off."</p> + +<p>Peggy turned to go.</p> + +<p>"I must go home," she said. "P'raps I'll come +again some day. If mamma was at home I'd ask +her if you mightn't come to look out of the nursery +window," she added, turning to Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"Bless you," said the poor girl, "I'd never get up +the stairs; thank you all the same."</p> + +<p>And with a deep sigh of regret at having to leave +such pleasant company, Peggy ran across the street +home.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>A BUN TO THE GOOD<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='center'> +"The little gift from out our store."<br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">The</span> yard door was still open; so was the house door. +Peggy met no one as she ran in.</div> + +<p>"Fanny's upstairs, p'raps," she said to herself. +But no, she saw nothing of Fanny either on the way +up or in the nursery. She did not feel dull or lonely +now, however. She went to the back window and +stood there for a minute looking at Crippley and Light +Smiley, who were still there with the two babies. +How funny it seemed that just a moment or two ago +she had been down there actually talking to them! +She could scarcely believe they were the very same +children whom for so long she had known by sight.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad I found the shoe," thought Peggy. +"I wish, oh I do wish I could have a tea-party, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> +'avite them all to tea. I daresay the father could +carry Crippley upstairs—he's a very big man."</p> + +<p>The thought of the father carried her thoughts +to Brackenshire and the cottage on the hill, and she +went into the day-nursery to look if the white spot +was still to be seen. Yes, it was very bright and +clear in the sunshine. Peggy gazed at it while a +smile broke over her grave little face.</p> + +<p>"How I do wish I could go there," she thought. +"I wonder if the Smileys' father 'amembers about +when he was a little boy, quite well. If he wasn't +such a 'nugly man we might ask him to tell us stories +about it."</p> + +<p>Then she caught sight of the little scarlet shoes +patiently standing on the window-sill.</p> + +<p>"Dear little shoes," she said. "Peggy was neely +forgetting you," and she took them up and kissed +them. "Next time I go to see the Smileys," she +thought, "I'll take the red shoes with me to show +them. They <i>will</i> be pleased."</p> + +<p>Then she got out her work and sat down to do it, +placing her chair where she could see the hills from, +the little shoes in her lap, feeling quite happy and +contented. It seemed but a little while till Fanny +came up to lay the cloth for Peggy's dinner. She<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> +had been working extra hard that morning, so as to +be ready for the afternoon, and perhaps her head was +a little confused. And so when Peggy began telling +her her adventures she did not listen attentively, and +answered "yes" and "no" without really knowing +what she was saying.</p> + +<p>"And so when I couldn't find you, Fanny, I just +runned over with the 'nother shoe myself. And the +poor little boy what was playing with the—the <i>not</i> +the 'nother one, you know, did so cry, but I think +he soon left off. And some day I'm going to ask +mamma to let me 'avite them all to tea, for them to +see the hills, and——" but here Peggy stopped, "the +hills, you know, out of the window."</p> + +<p>"Yes, dear; very nice," said Fanny. "You've +been a good little girl to amuse yourself so quietly +all the morning and give no trouble. I do wonder +if the washerwoman knows to come for the nursery +things, or if I must send," she went on, speaking, +though aloud, to herself.</p> + +<p>So Peggy felt perfectly happy about all she had +done, not indeed that she had had the slightest +misgiving.</p> + +<p>The afternoon passed very pleasantly. It was +quite a treat to Peggy to go a walk in a grown-up<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> +sort of way with Fanny, trotting by her side and +talking comfortably, instead of having to take Hal's +hand and lugging him along to keep well in front of +the perambulator. They went up the Ferndale Road—a +good way, farther than Peggy had ever been—so +far indeed that she could scarcely understand how it +was the hills did not seem much nearer than from +the nursery window, but when she asked Fanny, +Fanny said it was often so with hills—"nothing is +more undependable." Peggy did not quite understand +her, but put it away in her head to think +about afterwards.</p> + +<p>And when they came home it was nearly tea-time. +Peggy felt quite comfortably tired when she +had taken off her things and began to help Fanny to +get tea ready for the boys, and when they arrived, +all three very hungry and rather low-spirited at the +thought of mamma and nurse being away, it was +very nice for them to find the nursery quite as tidy +as usual—indeed, perhaps, rather tidier—and Peggy, +with a bright face, waiting with great pride to pour +out tea for them.</p> + +<p>"I think you're a very good housekeeper, Peg," +said Terence, who was always the first to say something +pleasant.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Not so bad," agreed Thorold, patronisingly.</p> + +<p>Baldwin sat still, looking before him solemnly, +and considering his words, as was his way before <i>he</i> +said anything.</p> + +<p>"I think," he began at last, "I think that when +I'm a big man I'll live in a cottage all alone with +Peggy, and not no one else."</p> + +<p>Peggy turned to him with sparkling eyes.</p> + +<p>"A <i>white</i> cottage, Baldwin dear; do say a white +cottage," she entreated.</p> + +<p>"I don't mind—a white cottage, but quite a tiny +one," he replied.</p> + +<p>"Hum!" said Thor, "that's very good-natured, I +must say. There'll be no room for visitors, do you +hear, Terry?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; p'raps there will sometimes," said +Peggy.</p> + +<p>"You'll let your poor old Terry come, won't you, +Peg-top?" said Terence, coaxingly.</p> + +<p>"Dear Terry," said Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Haven't you been very dull all day alone, by +the bye?" Terence went on.</p> + +<p>"Not very," Peggy replied. "Fanny took me a +nice walk, and this morning——" But she stopped +short before telling more. She was afraid that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span> +Thorold would laugh at her if she said how much +she liked the children at the back, and then she +had another reason. She wanted to "surprise" her +brothers with a present of pipes for soap-bubbles, +and very likely if she began talking about the back +street at all it would make them think of Mrs. +Whelan's, and then they might think of the pipes +for themselves, which Peggy did not wish at all. +She felt quite big and managing since she had paid +a visit to the Smileys, and had a plan for going to +buy the pipes "all by my own self."</p> + +<p>"To-morrow," said Thorold, "there's to be a party +at our school. We're all three to go."</p> + +<p>Peggy's face fell.</p> + +<p>"It's Saturday," she said. "I thought you'd have +stayed with me."</p> + +<p>Terence and Baldwin looked sorry.</p> + +<p>"<i>I'll</i> stay at home," said Terry.</p> + +<p>"No," said Thor, "I really don't think you can. +They're counting on you for some of the games. Peg +won't mind much for once, will you? I'm sorry +too."</p> + +<p>But before Peggy had time to reply, Baldwin +broke in.</p> + +<p>"I'll stay at home with Peg-top," he said, in his<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> +slow, distinct way. "It won't matter for me not +going. I'm one of the little ones."</p> + +<p>"And we'll go a nice walk, won't we, Baldwin?" +said Peggy, quite happy again. "And I daresay we +may have something nice for tea. I'll ask papa," +she added to herself. "I'm sure he'll give me some +pennies when he hears how good Baldwin is."</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw came the next morning, and in +the interest of being measured for her new spring +frock, and watching it being cut out, and considering +what she herself could make with the scraps which +the young dressmaker gave her, the time passed very +pleasantly for Peggy.</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw admired the red shoes very much, +and was interested to hear the story of the unknown +lady who had given them to Peggy, and told a story +of a similar adventure of her own when she was a +little girl. And after dinner she, for Fanny was +very busy, took Peggy and Baldwin out for a walk, +and on their way home they went to the confectioner's +and bought six halfpenny buns with the +three pennies papa had given Peggy that morning. +At least the children thought there were only six, +but greatly to their surprise, when they undid the +parcel on the nursery table, out rolled seven!<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh dear!" said Peggy, "she's gave us one too +many. Must we go back to the shop with it, do you +think, Miss Earnshaw? It's such a long way."</p> + +<p>"I'll go," said Baldwin, beginning to fasten his +boots again.</p> + +<p>But Miss Earnshaw assured them it was all right.</p> + +<p>"You always get thirteen of any penny buns or +cakes for a shilling," she said; "and some shops will +give you seven halfpenny ones for threepence. That's +how it is. Did you never hear speak of a baker's +dozen?"</p> + +<p>Still Peggy did not feel satisfied.</p> + +<p>"It isn't comfable," she said, giving herself a little +wriggle—a trick of hers when she was put out. +"Six would have been much nicer—just two for +each," for Miss Earnshaw was to have tea with her +and Baldwin.</p> + +<p>The young dressmaker smiled.</p> + +<p>"You <i>are</i> funny, Miss Peggy," she said. "Well, +run off now and get ready for tea. We'll have Fanny +bringing it up in a minute."</p> + +<p>Peggy, the seventh bun still much on her mind, +went slowly into the night nursery. Before beginning +to take off her hat she strolled to the window +and looked out. She had seen none of the children<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span> +to-day. Now, Brown Smiley was standing just in +front of the house, a basket on her arm, staring up +and down the street. She had been "of an errant" +for Mrs. Whelan, but Mrs. Whelan's door was locked; +she was either asleep or counting her money, and the +little girl knew that if she went on knocking the old +woman would get into a rage, so she was "waitin' a +bit." She liked better to do her waiting in the street, +for she had been busy indoors all the morning, and +it was a change to stand there looking about her.</p> + +<p>Peggy gazed at her for a moment or two. Then +an idea struck her. She ran back into the nursery +and seized a bun—the odd bun.</p> + +<p>"They're all mine, you know," she called out to +Baldwin; "but we'll have two each still."</p> + +<p>Baldwin looked up in surprise. "What are you +going to do with it?" he began to say, but Peggy +was out of sight.</p> + +<p>She was soon downstairs, and easily opened the +back door. But the yard door was fastened; she +found some difficulty in turning the big key. She +managed it at last, however, and saw to her delight +that Brown Smiley was still there.</p> + +<p>"Brown," began Peggy, but suddenly recollecting +that the Smileys had real names, she stopped short,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span> +and ran across the street. "I can't 'amember your +name," she exclaimed, breathlessly, "but I've brought +you this," and she held out the bun.</p> + +<p>Brown Smiley's face smiled all over.</p> + +<p>"Lor', miss," she exclaimed. "You are kind, to +be sure. Mayn't I give it to Lizzie? She's been +very bad to-day, and she's eat next to nought. This +'ere'll be tasty-like."</p> + +<p>"Lizzie," repeated Peggy, "which is Lizzie? Oh +yes, I know, it's Crippley."</p> + +<p>Brown Smiley looked rather hurt.</p> + +<p>"It's not her fault, miss," she said. "I'd not like +her to hear herself called like that."</p> + +<p>Peggy's face showed extreme surprise.</p> + +<p>"How do you mean?" she said. "I've made +names for you all. I didn't know your real ones."</p> + +<p>Brown Smiley looked at her and saw in a moment +that there was nothing to be vexed about.</p> + +<p>"To be sure, miss. Beg your pardon. Well, she +that's lame's Lizzie, and me, I'm Matilda-Jane."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," interrupted Peggy. "Well, you may +give her the bun if you like. It's very kind of you, +for I meant it for you. I'd like——" she went on, +"I'd like to give you more, but you see papa gaved +me the pennies for us, and p'raps he'd be vexed."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span></p> + +<p>"To be sure, to be sure, that'd never do," replied +Matilda, quickly. "But oh, miss, we've been asking +father about Brackenshire, and the cottages. 'Tis +Brackenshire 'ills, sure enough, that's seen from your +front."</p> + +<p>"I knew that," said Peggy, in a superior way.</p> + +<p>But Brown Smiley was too eager to feel herself +snubbed.</p> + +<p>"And oh, but he says it is bee-yutiful there—over +on the 'ills. The air's that fresh, and there's flowers +and big-leaved things as they calls ferns and brackens."</p> + +<p>"And white cottages?" asked Peggy, anxiously.</p> + +<p>"There's cottages—I didn't think for to ask if they +was all white. My! If we could but go there some +fine day. Father says it's not so far; many's the +time he's walked over there and back again the next +morning when he first comed to work here, you see, +miss, and his 'ome was still over there like."</p> + +<p>"Yes, in the white cottage," said Peggy. She had +made up her mind that it was unkind not to "let it +be" that the Smileys' father had lived in that very +cottage, for he did seem to be a nice man in spite of +his bigness and his dingy workman's clothes. If he +wasn't nice and kind she didn't think the children +would talk of him as they did.</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 459px;"> +<img src="images/i008.jpg" width="459" height="700" alt=""I can't 'amember your name," she exclaimed breathlessly...." title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span></p> + +<p>But she spoke absently; Matilda-Jane's words had +put thoughts in her head which seemed to make her +almost giddy. Brown Smiley stared at her for a +minute.</p> + +<p>"How she do cling to them cottages being white," +she thought to herself, "but there—if it pleases her! +She's but a little one." "White if you please, miss," +she replied, "though I can't say as I had it from +father."</p> + +<p>But suddenly a window above opened, and Mother +Whelan's befrilled face was thrust out.</p> + +<p>"What are ye about there then, and me fire burning +itself away, and me tea ready, waiting for the +bread? What's the young lady chatterin' to the +likes o' you for? Go home, missy, darlin', go home."</p> + +<p>The two children jumped as if they had been +shot.</p> + +<p>"Will she beat you?" whispered Peggy, looking +very frightened. But Brown Smiley shook her little +round head and laughed.</p> + +<p>"She won't have a chance, and she dursn't not +to say beat us—father'd be down on her—but she +doesn't think nought of a good shakin'. But I'll +push the basket in and run off if she's in a real +wax."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Good-bye, then. You must tell me lots more +about the hills. Ask your father all you can," and +so saying, Peggy flew home again.</p> + +<p>"Where've you been, what did you do with the +bun?" asked Baldwin, as soon as she came in to the +nursery.</p> + +<p>"I runned down with it, and gaved it to a little +girl I saw in the street," said Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Very kind and nice, I'm sure," said Miss Earnshaw. +"Was it a beggar, Miss Peggy? You're sure +your mamma and nurse wouldn't mind?" she added, +rather anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Peggy. "It's not a <i>beggar</i>. It's a +proper little poor girl what nurse gives our nold +clothes to."</p> + +<p>"Oh," said Baldwin, "one of the children over +the cobbler's, I suppose. But, Peggy," he was going +on to say he didn't think his sister had ever been +allowed to run down to the back street to speak to +them, only he was so slow and so long of making up +his mind that, as Fanny just then came in with the +tea, which made a little bustle, nobody attended to +him, and Miss Earnshaw remained quite satisfied +that all was right.</p> + +<p>The buns tasted very good—all the better to Peggy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> +from the feeling that poor lame Lizzie was perhaps +eating hers at that same moment, and finding it +"tasty."</p> + +<p>"Does lame people ever get quite better?" she +asked the young dressmaker.</p> + +<p>"That depends," Miss Earnshaw replied. "If it's +through a fall or something that way, outside of them +so to say, there's many as gets better. But if it's <i>in</i> +them, in the constitution, there's many as stays lame +all their lives through."</p> + +<p>Peggy wriggled a little. She didn't like to think +about it much. It sounded so mysterious.</p> + +<p>"What part's that?" she asked; "that big word."</p> + +<p>"Constitootion," said Baldwin, as if he was trying +to spell "Constantinople."</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw laughed. She lived alone with +her mother, and was not much used to children. +But she was so pleasant-tempered and gentle that she +easily got into their ways.</p> + +<p>"I shouldn't use such long words," she said. +"Our constitution just means ourselves—the way +we're made. A strong, healthy person is said to have +a good constitution, and a weakly person has a poor one."</p> + +<p>Baldwin and Peggy both sat silent for a minute, +thinking over what she said.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't see how that's to do with crippling," said +Peggy at last. "Does you mean," she went on, +"that p'raps lame people's legs is made wrong—by +mistake, you know. <i>In course</i> God wouldn't do it of +purpose, would he?"</p> + +<p>Baldwin looked rather startled.</p> + +<p>"Peggy," he said, "I don't think you should speak +that way."</p> + +<p>Peggy turned her gray eyes full upon him.</p> + +<p>"I don't mean to say anything naughty," she said. +"<i>Is</i> it naughty, Miss Earnshaw?"</p> + +<p>The young dressmaker had herself been rather +taken aback by Peggy's queer speech, and for a +moment or two scarcely knew what to say. But then +her face cleared again.</p> + +<p>"God can't make mistakes, Miss Peggy," she said, +"and He is always kind. All the same there's many +things that seem like one or the other, I know. It must +be that there's reasons for them that we can't see—like +when a doctor hurts anybody, it seems unkind, +but it's <i>really</i> to do them good."</p> + +<p>"Like when our doctor cutted poor Baby's tooths +to make them come through," said Peggy, eagerly. +"They was all <i>bleeding</i>, bleeding ever so, Miss Earnshaw. +Baby didn't understand, and he was <i>very</i><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span> +angry. He always sc'eams at the doctor now. I +almost think he'd like to kill him."</p> + +<p>Baldwin opened his mouth wide at these bloodthirsty +sentiments of Baby's. He was too shocked +to speak.</p> + +<p>"But it is only 'cos he doesn't understand," Peggy +went on, placidly. "<i>I</i> don't sc'eam at the doctor. I +speak to him quite goodly, 'cos, you see, <i>I</i> understand."</p> + +<p>Baldwin closed his mouth again. He looked at +Peggy with admiring respect.</p> + +<p>"Yes," agreed Miss Earnshaw, greatly relieved at +the turn their talk had taken, "that's just it, Miss +Peggy. You couldn't have put it better."</p> + +<p>"Peggy," said Baldwin, "when you're big you +should be a clergymunt."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER VIII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"As I was going up Pippin Hill,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Pippin Hill was dirty,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">There I met a pretty miss,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">And she dropped me a curtsey."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>Old Nursery Rhyme.</i></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Nothing</span> particular happened during the next few +days. Peggy's little life went on regularly and +peacefully. Miss Earnshaw came every morning, +and either she or Fanny took Peggy a walk every +afternoon, except twice when it rained, to the little +girl's great disappointment.</div> + +<p>The second of these wet days happened to be +Friday. Peggy stood at the front nursery window +that morning looking out rather sadly. There were +no hills—no white spot to be seen, of course.</p> + +<p>"I wonder what the Smileys do when it rains all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> +day," she said to herself. "I think I'll go to the +back window and look if I can see any of them."</p> + +<p>She had scarcely caught sight of her neighbours +for some days. Only now and then she had seen +the little ones tumbling about on the pavement, and +once or twice the elder girls had brought their chairs +down and sat there sewing. Lizzie had never come +out. Peggy feared she must be still ill, and perhaps +that made the others extra busy. It was not likely +any of them would come out to-day, as it was raining +so; but <i>sometimes</i> she was able to see their faces +at the window. And on a rainy day some of the +little ones at least would perhaps be looking out.</p> + +<p>She turned to go to the other nursery when Miss +Earnshaw spoke to her.</p> + +<p>"I wouldn't be so vexed at its being wet to-day, +Miss Peggy, if I was you," she said. "It'll be much +worse if it's wet to-morrow, for it's your brothers' +half-holiday."</p> + +<p>"Is to-morrow Saturday?" asked Peggy.</p> + +<p>"To be sure it is. And I'm afraid I can't possibly +stay here in the afternoon. I've got to go to see a +lady some way off about some work. I wish she +hadn't fixed for Saturday. If it's fine it won't matter +so much. Fanny and I were saying you could all<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> +go a nice walk—the young gentlemen and you, with +her. But if it's wet I don't know however she'll +manage you all in the house."</p> + +<p>Suddenly Peggy's eyes began to sparkle.</p> + +<p>"Miss Earnshaw," she said, "I've thought of +something. If you'll ask Fanny, I'm sure she'll say +we can; we've not had them for such a long time, +and I've got my four pennies and a halfpenny—that'll +get six, you know, in case any's brokened."</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw looked at her and then began to +laugh.</p> + +<p>"Miss Peggy dear, you must tell me first what +you mean," she said. "Your thoughts come so fast +that they run ahead of your words. What is it you +mean to get six of—not buns?"</p> + +<p>"Buns!" repeated Peggy. "You can't blow +bubbles with buns. No, of course I meant pipes. +Nice white pipes to blow soap-bubbles."</p> + +<p>"Oh, to be sure," said Miss Earnshaw. "That's +a very good idea, Miss Peggy, in case to-morrow +afternoon's wet, and I shouldn't wonder if it was."</p> + +<p>"And you'll ask Fanny?"</p> + +<p>"Of course; you can ask her yourself for that +matter. I'm sure she's the last to grudge you anything +that'd please you and the young gentlemen.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span> +And even if soap-bubbles are rather messy sometimes, +it's easy to wipe up. It's not like anything +dirty."</p> + +<p>"Soap must be clean, mustn't it?" said Peggy, +laughing. "But don't tell the boys, pelease, dear +Miss Earnshaw. I do so want to 'apprise them. I +can get the pipes to-morrow morning. I know where +to get them," and quite happy, Peggy trotted off to +take out her money-box and look to be quite sure +that the three pennies and three halfpennies were +there in safety, where for some weeks they had been +waiting.</p> + +<p>"Bless her heart," said the young dressmaker. +"She is the sweetest little innocent darling that ever +lived."</p> + +<p>After looking over her pennies Peggy turned to +the window. No, none of the Smileys were to be +seen.</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Peggy to herself. "I'll +p'raps see them to-morrow when I go for the pipes. +I almost hope it'll be a wet day. It will be so nice +to blow soap-bubbles. Only," and she sighed a little, +"it does seem such a very long time since I sawed +the white cottage."</p> + +<p>To-morrow <i>was</i> rainy, very rainy, with no look of<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> +"going to clear up" about it. The boys grumbled a +good deal at breakfast at the doleful prospect of a +dull half-holiday in the house.</p> + +<p>"And papa's going away to-day till Monday," +said Thorold; "so there'll be no going down to the +dining-room to sit beside him while he's at dinner +for a change."</p> + +<p>"Poor papa," said Peggy, "he'll get very wet +going such a long way."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, you little goose," said Thor, crossly. +"People don't get wet in cabs and railway carriages."</p> + +<p>"I forgot," said Peggy, meekly.</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't call her a goose, Thor," said +Terence. "It's very disagreeable to travel on a very +rainy day. I've often heard people say so."</p> + +<p>"I wish I was going to travel, rainy or not, I +know that," grumbled Thorold. "Here we shall be +mewed up in this stupid nursery all the afternoon +with nothing to do."</p> + +<p>"There's lots of things to do," said Baldwin. "I +think I'll write a letter to mamma for one thing. +And I want to tidy my treasure-box and——"</p> + +<p>"You're a stupid," said Thorold. "You're too fat +and slow to have any spirit in you."</p> + +<p>"Now, Thorold, I say that's not fair," said Terry.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Would it show spirit to grumble? You'd be down +upon him if he did. There's no pleasing you."</p> + +<p>"<i>I</i> know something that would please him," said +Peggy, who was trembling between eagerness to tell +and determination <i>not</i> to tell her "surprise."</p> + +<p>"What?" said Thor, rather grumpily still.</p> + +<p>"I'm not going to tell you till you come home. +And it'll only be if it's a rainy afternoon," said Peggy.</p> + +<p>Terence and Baldwin pricked up their ears.</p> + +<p>"Oh, do tell us, Peg-top," they said.</p> + +<p>But the little girl shook her head.</p> + +<p>"No, no," she replied. "I've promised myself—<i>quite</i> +promised not."</p> + +<p>"There's a reason for you," said Thor. But his +tone was more good-natured now. He felt ashamed +of being so cross when the little ones were so kind +and bright.</p> + +<p>"I'll really, <i>truly</i> tell you when you come back +from school," said Peggy, and with this assurance +the boys had to content themselves.</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw arrived as usual, or rather not as +usual, for she was dripping, poor thing, and had to +leave her waterproof downstairs in the kitchen.</p> + +<p>"What weather, Miss Peggy," she said, as she +came in. "I thought it would be a wet day, but not<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> +such a pour. It is unfortunate that I have to go so +far to-day, isn't it? And I'm sorry to leave you +children alone too."</p> + +<p>"Never mind," said Peggy, cheerily; "we'll be +quite happy with the soap bubbles. I've got my +money quite ready. Mayn't I go and get the pipes +now?"</p> + +<p>"Out, my dear? In such weather!" exclaimed +Miss Earnshaw.</p> + +<p>"Oh, but it's <i>quite</i> near," said Peggy. "Just hop +out of the door and you're there. The boys always +buy their pipes there, and mamma goes there herself +sometimes to see the old woman."</p> + +<p>"Well, wait a bit, any way. It can't go on raining +as fast as this all the morning surely. It's real +cats and dogs."</p> + +<p>Peggy looked up in surprise.</p> + +<p>"Cats and dogs, Miss Earnshaw?" she repeated.</p> + +<p>"Oh, bless you, my dear, it's only a way of speaking," +said the dressmaker, a little impatiently, for +she was not very much accustomed to children. +"It just means raining <i>very</i> hard."</p> + +<p>Peggy went to the window to look out for herself. +Yes indeed it was raining very hard. The little +girl could not help sighing a little as she gazed at<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span> +the thick even gray of the clouds, hiding like a +curtain every trace of the distant hills she was so +fond of.</p> + +<p>"I won't put out the little red shoes to-day," she +said to herself, "there's nothing for them to see."</p> + +<p>Then other thoughts crept into her mind.</p> + +<p>"I wonder if it's raining at the white cottage +too," she said to herself. And aloud she asked a +question.</p> + +<p>"Miss Earnshaw, pelease, does it ever rain in the +country?" she said.</p> + +<p>"Rain in the country! I should rather think it did. +Worse than in town, you might say—that's to say, +where there's less shelter, you'll get wetter and dirtier +in the country, only of course it's not the same kind +of really black sooty rain. But as for mud in country +lanes! I shall see something of it this afternoon, I +expect."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Peggy. "I thought it +never rained in the country. I thought it was +always quite pretty and lovely," and she sighed +deeply. "I wonder what people who live in little +cottages in the country do all day when it rains," she +said.</p> + +<p>"Why, my dear, much the same as other folk, I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> +should say. They have their rooms to clean, and +their dinner to cook, and their children to look after. +Still I daresay it'd be a bit drearier in the country +of a right-down wet day like this, even than in town. +I've never lived there myself, except for a week at a +time at most, but mother was all her young days in +the country."</p> + +<p>"Everybody's fathers and mothers lived there," +said Peggy, rather petulantly. "Why don't peoples let +their children live there now?"</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw laughed a little. Peggy did not +like her to laugh in that way, and she gave herself a +little wriggle, though poor Miss Earnshaw certainly +did not mean to vex her.</p> + +<p>"There are plenty of children in the country too, +Miss Peggy," she said. "Mother's youngest sister +has twelve."</p> + +<p>"Twelve," repeated Peggy, "<i>how</i> nice! at least if +there's lots of sisters among them, and no very little +babies. Do they live over in that country?" she +went on, pointing in the direction of the invisible +hills, "that country called Brack—— You know the +name."</p> + +<p>"Brackenshire," said Miss Earnshaw, "no, my +mother comes from much farther off. A very pretty<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> +place it must be by what she says. Not but what +Brackenshire's a pretty country too. I've been there +several times with the Sunday school for a treat."</p> + +<p>"And did you see the hills and the white cottages?" +asked Peggy breathlessly.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, the hills are beautiful, and there's lots of +cottages of all kinds. They look pretty among the +trees, even though they're only poor little places, most +of them."</p> + +<p>"The white ones is the prettiest," said Peggy, as +if she knew all about it.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I daresay," said Miss Earnshaw, without +paying much attention; she had got to rather a difficult +part of the sleeve she was making.</p> + +<p>"Did you ever walk all the way there when you +was a little girl?" Peggy went on.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, of course," Miss Earnshaw replied, without +the least idea of what she was answering.</p> + +<p>"Really!" said Peggy, "how nice!" Then seeing +that the dressmaker was absorbed in her work: "Miss +Earnshaw," she said, "I'm going for the pipes now. +It isn't raining <i>quite</i> so fast, and I'll not be long."</p> + +<p>"Very well, my dear," Miss Earnshaw replied, +and Peggy went off to fetch her pennies from the +drawer in the other nursery where she kept them.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span> +She had a new idea in her head, an idea which Miss +Earnshaw's careless words had helped to put there, +little as she knew it.</p> + +<p>"If I see the Smileys," thought Peggy, "I'll tell +them what she said."</p> + +<p>She glanced out of the window, dear me, how +lucky! There stood Brown Smiley looking out at +the door, as if she were hesitating before making a +plunge into the dripping wet street. It did seem at +the back as if it were raining faster than in front. +Peggy opened the cupboard and took out her little +cloak which was hanging there.</p> + +<p>"I won't put on my hat," she thought, "'cos nurse +says the rain spoils the feavers. I'll get a numbrella +downstairs, and then I <i>can't</i> get wet, and here's my +pennies all right in my pocket. I do hope Brown +Smiley will wait till I get down."</p> + +<p>She made all the haste she could, and found, as +she expected, an umbrella in the stand downstairs. +It was not very easy to open, but she succeeded at +last, then came, however, another difficulty, she could +not get herself and the umbrella through the back +door together.</p> + +<p>"Dear me," thought Peggy, "I wonder how people +does with their numbrellas. They <i>must</i> open them in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> +the house, else they'd get wet standing outside while +they're doing it. I never looked to see how nurse +does, but then we almost never go out when it's +rainy. I 'appose it's one of the hard things big +peoples has to learn. Oh, dear! <i>won't</i> it come through?"</p> + +<p>No, she couldn't manage it, at least not with +herself under it. At last a brilliant idea struck +Peggy; anything was better than closing the tiresome +thing now she <i>had</i> got it opened—she would +send it first and follow after herself. So the umbrella +was passed through, and went slipping down the two +or three steps that led into the yard, where it lay +gaping up reproachfully at Peggy, who felt inclined +to call out "Never mind, poor thing, I'm coming +d'reckly."</p> + +<p>And as "d'reckly" as possible she did come, carefully +closing the door behind her, for fear the rain +should get into the house, which, together with the +picking up of the umbrella, far too big and heavy a +one for a tiny girl, took so long that I am afraid a +good many drops had time to fall on the fair uncovered +head before it got under shelter again.</p> + +<p>But little cared Peggy. She felt as proud as a +peacock, the umbrella representing the tail, you understand, +when she found herself outside the yard door,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span> +which behaved very amiably, fairly under weigh for +her voyage across the street. She could see nothing +before her; fortunately, however, no carriages or carts +ever came down the narrow back way.</p> + +<p>Half-way over Peggy stopped short—she had forgotten +to look if Brown Smiley was still standing +there. It was not easy to get a peep from under the +umbrella, without tilting it and herself backwards on +to the muddy road, but with great care Peggy +managed it. Ah dear, what a disappointment! There +was no little girl in front of the cobbler's window, +but glancing to one side, Peggy caught sight of the +small figure with a shawl of "mother's" quaintly +drawn over the head, trotting away down the street. +With a cry Peggy dashed after her.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Brown Smiley," she called out, "do come +back. I'm too frightened to go to buy the pipes +alone," for what with her struggles and her excitement, +the little damsel's nerves were rather upset. +"Oh, Brown Smiley—no—no, that's not her name, +oh what <i>is</i> your name, Brown Smiley?" and on along +the rough pavement behind the little messenger she +rushed, if indeed poor Peggy's toddling, flopping from +one side to another progress, could possibly be called +"rushing."</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 459px;"> +<img src="images/i009.jpg" width="459" height="700" alt=""But an umbrella rolling itself about on the pavement...." title="" /> +</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>It came to an end quickly—the paving-stones +were rough and uneven, the small feet had only "my +noldest house-shoes" to protect them, and the "numbrella" +was sadly in the way; there came suddenly a +sharp cry, so piercing and distressful that even Matilda-Jane, +accustomed as she was to childish sounds of +woe of every kind and pitch, was startled enough to +turn round and look behind her.</p> + +<p>"Can it be Halfred come a-runnin' after me?" +she said to herself. But the sight that met her eyes +puzzled her so, that at the risk of Mother Whelan's +scoldings for being so long, she could not resist +running back to examine for herself the strange +object. This was nothing more nor less than an +umbrella, and an umbrella in itself is not an uncommon +sight. But an umbrella rolling itself about +on the pavement, an umbrella from which proceeds +most piteous wails, an umbrella from underneath +which, when you get close to it, you see two little +feet sticking out and by degrees two neat black legs, +and then a muddle of short skirts, which by rights +should be draping the legs, but have somehow got +all turned upside down like a bird's feathers ruffled +up the wrong way—<i>such</i> an umbrella, or perhaps +I should say an umbrella in such circumstances,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> +certainly may be called a strange sight, may it +not?</p> + +<p>Matilda-Jane Simpkins, for that was Brown +Smiley's whole long name, thought so any way, for +she stood stock still, staring, and the only thing she +could collect herself enough to say was, "Lor'!"</p> + +<p>But her state of stupefaction only lasted half a +moment. She was a practical and business-like +little person; before there was time for another cry +for help, she had disentangled the umbrella and its +owner, and set the latter on her feet again, sobbing +piteously, and dreadfully dirty and muddy, but +otherwise not much the worse.</p> + +<p>Then Matilda-Jane gave vent to another exclamation.</p> + +<p>"Bless me, missy, it's <i>you!</i>" she cried. "Whatever +are you a-doing of to be out in the rain all +alone, with no 'at and a humbrella four sizes too big +for the likes of you, and them paper-soled things on +yer feet? and, oh my! ain't yer frock muddy? +What'll your folk say to you? Or is they all away +and left you and the cat to keep 'ouse?"</p> + +<p>"I was running after you, Brown Smiley," +sobbed Peggy. She could not quite make out if +Matilda-Jane was making fun of her or not, and,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> +indeed, to do Matilda justice, she had no such intention. +"I was running after <i>you</i>," Peggy repeated, +"and you <i>wouldn't</i> stop, and I couldn't run fast 'cos +of the numbrella, and so I felled down."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, missy dear, you'll be none the +worse, you'll see. Only, will they give it you when +you go home for dirtying of your frock?"</p> + +<p>"Give it me?" repeated Peggy.</p> + +<p>"Yes, give it you; will you get it—will you +catch it?" said Matilda, impatiently.</p> + +<p>"I don't know what you mean," Peggy replied.</p> + +<p>Matilda wasted no more words on her. She took +her by the arm, umbrella and all, and trotted her +down the street again till they had reached the +Smiley mansion. Then she drew Peggy inside the +doorway of the passage, whence a stair led up to +Mrs. Whelan's, and to the Simpkins's own rooms +above that again, and having shut up the umbrella +with such perfect ease that Peggy gazed at her in +admiration, she tried to explain her meaning.</p> + +<p>"Look 'ere now, miss;" she said, "which'll you +do—go straight over-the-way 'ome, just as you are, +or come in along of <i>huz</i> and get yerself cleaned up +a bit?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I'll go in with you, pelease," sobbed Peggy.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span></p> + +<p>"P'raps Miss Earnshaw wouldn't scold me. She let +me come, and I didn't fell down on purpose. But I +<i>know</i> she wouldn't let me come out again—I'm sure +she wouldn't, and I do so want to get the pipes my +own self. You'll take me to Mrs. Whelan's, won't +you, dear Brown Smiley?"</p> + +<p>"I'll catch it when she sees I haven't done her +errant," said Matilda. "But never mind; she'll not +be so bad with you there, maybe. Come up with +me, missy, and I'll get Rebecca to wipe you a bit," +and she began the ascent of the narrow staircase, +followed by Peggy.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER IX</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE OPPOSITE HOUSE<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"There was an old woman that lived in a shoe,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">She had so many children she didn't know what to do."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 15em;"><i>Nursery Rhymes.</i></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">In</span> spite of her misfortunes, Peggy could not help +feeling very pleased at finding herself at last inside +the house she had watched so often from the outside. +It was certainly not a pretty house—a big person +would probably have thought it a very poor and +uninteresting one; but it was not dirty. The old +wooden steps were scrubbed down once a week +regularly, so there was nothing to strike the little +girl as disagreeable, and it seemed delightfully queer +and mysterious as she climbed the steep, uneven +staircase, which grew darker and darker as they went +on, so that but for Brown Smiley's voice in front, +Peggy would not have had the least idea where she +was going.</div><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There's Mother Whelan's door," Matilda said in +a half whisper, as if afraid of the old woman's +pouncing out upon them, and Peggy wondered how +she knew it, for to her everything was perfectly +dark; "but we'll go upstairs first to Rebecca," and +on they climbed.</p> + +<p>Suddenly, what seemed for a moment a blaze of +brilliant light from the contrast with the darkness +where they were, broke upon them. Peggy quite +started. But it was only the opening of a door.</p> + +<p>"Is that you, Matilda-Jane? My, but you have +been sharp. I should think old Whelan 'ud be +pleased for onst."</p> + +<p>The speaker was Reddy; she stood in the doorway, +her bare red arms shining, as they always did, +from being so often up to the elbows in soap and +water.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Rebecca, don't say nothin', but I've not +been of my errant yet. Now, don't ye begin at me—'tweren't +of my fault. I was a-'urryin' along +when I saw miss 'ere a-rollin' in the wet with her +humberellar, and I 'ad to pick her up. She's that +muddy we were afeard they'd give it her over the +way—her mar's away. So I told her as you'd tidy +her up a bit. Come along, missy. Rebecca's got a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> +good 'eart, has Rebecca; she'll clean you nicely, +you'll see."</p> + +<p>For at the sound of Rebecca's sharp voice poor +Peggy had slunk back into the friendly gloom of the +staircase. But she came creeping forward now, so +that Reddy saw her.</p> + +<p>"Lor'!" said the big girl, "little miss from the +hopposite winder to be sure."</p> + +<p>This quite restored Peggy's courage.</p> + +<p>"Have you seen me at the window?" she said. +"How funny! I've looked at you lotses and lotses +of times, but I never thought of you looking at me."</p> + +<p>To which both sisters replied with their favourite +exclamation, "Lor'!"</p> + +<p>Just then came a voice from inside.</p> + +<p>"Shut the door there, Rebecca, can't you? If +there's one thing I can't abide, and you might know it, +it's a hopen door, and the draught right on baby's head."</p> + +<p>Rebecca took Peggy by the hand and drew her +into the room, and while she was relating the story +of little missy's misfortunes to her mother, little +missy looked round her with the greatest interest.</p> + +<p>It was a small room, but oh, how full of children! +Dinner was being got ready "against father and the +boys coming home," Matilda said, but where father<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span> +and the boys could possibly find space to stand, much +less to sit, Peggy lay awake wondering for a long +time that night. She counted over all those already +present, and found they were all there except Lizzie, +the lame girl. And besides the two babies and Alfred, +whom she knew by sight, she was amazed to see a +fourth, a very tiny doll of a thing—the tiniest thing +she had ever seen, but which they all were as proud +of as if there had never been a baby among them +before. At this moment it was reposing in the arms +of Mary-Hann; Light Smiley, whose real name was +Sarah, you remember, was taking charge of the two +big babies in one corner, while Reddy and her +mother were busy at the fire, and "Halfred" was +amusing himself quietly with some marbles, apparently +his natural occupation.</p> + +<p>What a lot of them! Peggy began to feel less +sure that she would like to have as many sisters as +the Smileys. Still they all looked happy, and their +mother, whom Peggy had never seen before, had +really a very kind face.</p> + +<p>"I'll see to the pot, Rebecca," she said; "just +you wipe missy's frock a bit. 'Twill be none the +worse, you'll see. And so your dear mar's away +missy. I 'ope the change'll do her good."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you," said Peggy. "She's gone to +the country. Did you ever live in the country? +And was it in a white cottage?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Simpkins smiled.</p> + +<p>"No, missy, I'm town-bred. 'Tis father as knows +all about the country; he's a Brackenshire man."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Peggy, "I forgot. It's Miss Earnshaw's +mother I was thinking of."</p> + +<p>"But father," said Matilda, "<i>he</i> can tell lots of +tales about the country."</p> + +<p>"I wish he was at home," said Peggy. "But I +must go, now my frock's cleaned. Some day p'raps +I'll come again. Thank you, Reddy," at which +Rebecca, who had been vigorously rubbing Peggy's +skirts, stared and looked as if she were going to say +"Lor'!" "I'm going to buy soap-bubble pipes at +Mrs. Whelan's," Peggy went on, for she was losing +her shyness now; "that's what I comed out in the +rain for. We're going to play at soap-bubbles this +afternoon, 'cos it's too wet to go out a walk."</p> + +<p>All the Smileys listened with great interest.</p> + +<p>"Mayn't Brown—I mean Matilda-Jane—come +with me, pelease?" said Peggy. "I'm <i>razer</i> frightened +to go to buy them alone; sometimes that old +woman does look so cross."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>"She looks what she is then," said Reddy, "'cept +for one thing; she's awful good to Lizzie. She's +a-sittin' down there this very minute as is, is Lizzie, +to be out o' the way like when mother and me's +cleaning, you see, miss."</p> + +<p>Brown Smiley's face had grown grave.</p> + +<p>"I dursn't let Mother Whelan see as I've not +gone," she said, "but if missy doesn't like to go +alone—not as she'd be sharp to the likes of you, but +still——"</p> + +<p>"<i>I'll</i> go," said little Sarah, Light Smiley, that is +to say. "Jest you see to the childer will ye, Mary-Hann?" +she shouted to the deaf sister. "I won't +be harf a minute."</p> + +<p>"And you, Matilda-Jane, off with you," said +Rebecca, which advice Brown Smiley instantly +followed.</p> + +<p>Sarah took Peggy's hand to escort her down the +dark staircase again. Light Smiley was, of all the +family perhaps, Peggy's favourite. She was two +years or so older than her little opposite neighbour, +but she scarcely looked it, for both she and Brown +Smiley were small and slight, and when you came +to speak to them both, Sarah seemed a good deal +younger than Matilda; she was so much less<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> +managing and decided in manner, but on the present +occasion Peggy would have preferred the elder +Smiley, for to tell the truth her heart was beginning +to beat much faster than usual at the thought of +facing Mrs. Whelan in her den.</p> + +<p>"Isn't you frightened, Light Smiley?" asked the +little girl when the two stopped, and Peggy knew +by this that they must be at the old woman's +door.</p> + +<p>"Oh no," Sarah replied. "Tisn't as if we'd been +up to any mischief, you see. And Lizzie's there. +She's mostly quiet when Lizzie's there."</p> + +<p>So saying she pushed the door open. It had a +bell inside, which forthwith began to tinkle loudly, +and made Peggy start. This bell was the pride of +Mrs. Whelan's heart; it made such a distinction, she +thought, between her and the rest of the tenants of +the house, and the more noisily it rang the better +pleased she was. Sarah knew this, and gave the +door a good shove, at the same time pulling Peggy +into the room.</p> + +<p>"What's it yer afther now, and what's become of +Matilda-Jane?" called out the old woman, not, at +the first moment, catching sight of Peggy.</p> + +<p>"It's little missy from over-the-way," Sarah<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> +hastened to explain; "she's come to buy some pipes +of you, Mother Whelan."</p> + +<div class="figright" style="width: 466px;"> +<img src="images/i010.jpg" width="466" height="700" alt=""To be sure," she said in her most gracious tone...." title="" /> +</div> + +<p>Mrs. Whelan looked at Peggy where she stood +behind Sarah, gravely staring about her.</p> + +<p>"To be sure," she said in her most gracious tone. +"'Tis the beautiful pipes I have. And 'tis proud +I am to say the purty young lady," and on she went +with a long flattering speech about Peggy's likeness +to her "swate mother," and inquiries after the lady's +health, all the time she was reaching down from a +high shelf an old broken cardboard box, containing +her stock of clay pipes.</p> + +<p>Peggy did not answer. In the first place, thanks +to the old woman's Irish accent and queer way of +speaking she did not understand a quarter of what +she said. Then her eyes were busy gazing all about, +and her nose was even less pleasantly occupied, for +there was a very strong smell in the room. It was +a sort of mixed smell of everything—not like the +curious "everything" smell that one knows so well +in a village shop in the country, which for my part +I think rather nice—a smell of tea, and coffee, and +bacon, and nuts, and soap, and matting, and brown +holland, and spices, and dried herbs, all mixed together, +but with a clean feeling about it—no, the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> +smell in Mrs. Whelan's was much stuffier and snuffier. +For joined to the odour of all the things I have +named was that of herrings and tobacco smoke, and, +I rather fear, of whisky. And besides all this, I +am very much afraid that not only a spring cleaning +but a summer or autumn or winter cleaning, were +unknown events in the old woman's room. No +wonder that Peggy, fresh from the soft-soap-and-water +smell of the Simpkins's upstairs, sniffed uneasily +and wished Mrs. Whelan would be quick with +the pipes; her head felt so queer and confused.</p> + +<p>But looking round she caught sight of a very +interesting object; this was Lizzie, rocking herself +gently on her chair in a corner, and seeming quite at +home. Peggy ran—no she couldn't run—the room +was so crowded, for a counter stood across one end, +and in the other a big square old bedstead, and +between the two were a table and one or two chairs, +and an old tumble-down chest of drawers—made her +way over to Lizzie.</p> + +<p>"How do you do, Crip—Lizzie, I mean? I hope +your pains aren't very bad to-day?"</p> + +<p>"Not so very, thank you, miss," said the poor +girl. "It's nice and quiet in here, and the quiet +does me a deal o' good."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy sighed.</p> + +<p>"I don't like being very quiet," she said. "I +wish you could come over to the nursery; now that +Hal and baby and nurse are away it's dreffully +quiet."</p> + +<p>"But you wouldn't care to change places with me, +would you, missy?" said Lizzie. "I'm thinking +you'd have noise enough if you were upstairs sometimes. +My—it do go through one's head, to be sure."</p> + +<p>Peggy looked very sympathising.</p> + +<p>"Aren't you frightened of <i>her?</i>" she whispered, +nodding gently towards Mrs. Whelan.</p> + +<p>"Not a bit of it," said Lizzie, also lowering her +voice; "she's right down good to me, is the old body. +She do scold now and then and no mistake, but bless +you, she'd never lay a finger on me, and it's no +wonder she's in a taking with the children when +they kicks up a hextra row, so to say."</p> + +<p>Peggy's mouth had opened gradually during this +speech, and now it remained so. She could not +understand half Lizzie's words, but she had no +time to ask for an explanation, for just then Light +Smiley called to her to come and look at the pipes +which were by this time waiting for her on the +counter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span></p> + +<p>They were the cleanest things in the room—the +only clean things it seemed to Peggy as she lifted +them up one by one to choose six very nice ones. +And then she paid her pennies and ran back to +shake hands with Lizzie and say good-bye to her—she +wondered if she should shake hands with Mrs. +Whelan too, but fortunately the old woman did not +seem to expect it, and Peggy felt very thankful, for +her brown wrinkled hands looked sadly dirty to the +little girl, dirtier perhaps than they really were.</p> + +<p>"I like your house much better than hers," said +Peggy, when she and Light Smiley were down at +the bottom of the stairs again; "it smells much +nicer."</p> + +<p>"Mother and Rebecca's all for scrubbing, that's +certing," replied Sarah, with a smile of pleasure—of +course all little girls like to hear their homes praised—"but +she's not bad to Lizzie, is old Whelan," as if +that settled the whole question, and Peggy felt she +must not say any more about the dirty room.</p> + +<p>Light Smiley felt it her duty to see "missy" safe +across the street. Peggy's hands were laden with the +precious pipes, and Sarah carried the big umbrella +over the two of them. They chattered as they +picked their way through the mud and stood for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> +minute or two at the yard-door of Peggy's house. +Light Smiley peeped in.</p> + +<p>"Lor'," she said, expressing her feelings in the +same way as her sisters, "yours must be a fine +house, missy. All that there back-yard for yerselves."</p> + +<p>"You should see the droind-room, and mamma's +room; there's a marble top to the washing-stand," +said Peggy, with pride.</p> + +<p>"Lor'," said Sarah again.</p> + +<p>"Some day," Peggy went on, excited by Sarah's +admiration, "<i>some</i> day when my mamma comes +home, I'm going to ask her to let me have a tea-party +of you <i>all</i>—in the nursery, you know. The +nursery's nice too, at least I daresay you'd like it."</p> + +<p>"Is that the winder where you sees us from?" +asked Sarah. "Matilda-Jane says as how we could +see you too quite plain at it if you put your face +quite close to the glass."</p> + +<p>"I can't," said Peggy. "There's the toilet-table +close to the window—at least, it's really a chest of +drawers, you know, but there's a looking-glass on the +top and a white cover, so it's like a toilet-table for +nurse, though it's too high up for me. I have to +stand on a chair if I want to see myself popperly."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Dear!" said Sarah sympathisingly.</p> + +<p>"And I can only see you by scrooging into the +corner, and the curting's there. No, you couldn't ever +see me well up at the window. But that's not the +nursery where we'd have tea. That's only the night +nursery. The other one's to the front; that's the +window where you can see the hills far away."</p> + +<p>"In the country, where father used to live. Oh +yes, I know. I heerd Matilda-Jane a-asking 'im +about it," said Sarah.</p> + +<p>"Oh, and did he tell you any more? Do ask +him if it's really not far to get there," said Peggy, +eagerly.</p> + +<p>Sarah nodded.</p> + +<p>"I won't forget," she said; "and then, missy, +when you axes us to the tea-party, I'll be able to +tell you all about it."</p> + +<p>She did not mean to be cunning, poor little girl, +but she was rather afraid Peggy might forget about +the tea-party, and she thought it was not a bad plan +to say something which might help to make her +remember it.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Peggy replied, "that would be lovely. +Do make him tell all you can, Light Smiley. Oh, +I do wish mamma would come home now, and I'd<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> +ask her about the tea-party immediately. I'm sure +she'd let me, for she likes us to be kind to poor +people."</p> + +<p>Sarah drew herself up a little at this.</p> + +<p>"We're not—not to say <i>poor</i> folk," she said, with +some dignity. "There's a many of us, and it's hard +enough work, but still——"</p> + +<p>"Oh, don't be vexed," said Peggy. "I know +you're not like—like beggars, you know. And I +think <i>we're</i> rather poor too. Mamma often says papa +has to work hard."</p> + +<p>Sarah grew quite friendly again.</p> + +<p>"I take it folks isn't often rich when they've a +lot of children," she began, but the sound of a window +opening across the street made her start. "Bless +me," she said, "I must run. There's Rebecca a-going +to scold me for standing talking. Good-bye, miss, +I'll not forget to ask father."</p> + +<p>And Sarah darted away, carrying with her the +umbrella, quite forgetting that it was Peggy's. Peggy +forgot it too, and it was not raining so fast now, +so there was less to remind her. She shut the +door and ran across the yard. The house door still +stood open, and she made her way up to the nursery +without meeting any one.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER X</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>"SOAP-BUBBLING"<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='center'> +"And every colour see I there."<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 13em;"><i>The Rainbow</i>, <span class="smcap">Charles Lamb</span>.</span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">There</span> was no one upstairs. Miss Earnshaw had +gone down to the kitchen to iron the seams of her +work, without giving special thought to Peggy. If +any one had asked her where the child was she +would have probably answered that she was counting +over her money in the night nursery. So she +was rather surprised when coming upstairs again in +a few minutes she was met by Peggy flying to meet +her with the pipes in her hand.</div> + +<p>"I've got them, Miss Earnshaw; aren't they +beauties?" she cried. "And I don't think my frock's +reely spoilt? It only just looks a <i>little</i> funny where +the mud was."</p> + +<p>"Bless me!" exclaimed the young dressmaker,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> +"wherever have you been, Miss Peggy? No, your +frock'll brush all right; but you don't mean to say +you've been out in the rain? You should have asked +me, my dear."</p> + +<p>She spoke rather reproachfully; she was a little +vexed with herself for not having looked after the +child better, but Peggy was one of those quiet "old-fashioned" +children, who never seem to need looking +after.</p> + +<p>"I did ask you," said Peggy, opening wide her +eyes, "and you said, 'Very well, my dear.'"</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw couldn't help smiling.</p> + +<p>"I must have been thinking more of your new +frock than of yourself," she said. "However, I hope +it's done you no harm. Your stockings aren't +wet?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Peggy; "my slippers were a weeny +bit wet, so I've changed them. My frock wouldn't +have been dirtied, only I felled in the wet, Miss +Earnshaw, but Brown—one of the little girls, you +know, that lives in the house where the shop is—picked +me up, and there's no harm done, is there? +And I've got the pipes, and won't my brothers be +peleased," she chirruped on in her soft, cheery way.</p> + +<p>Miss Earnshaw could not blame her, though she<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> +determined to be more on the look-out for the future. +And soon after came twelve o'clock, and then the +young dressmaker was obliged to go, bidding Peggy +"Good-bye till Monday morning."</p> + +<p>The boys came home wet and hungry, and grumbling +a good deal at the rainy half-holiday. Peggy +had hidden the six pipes in her little bed, but after +dinner she made the three boys shut their eyes +while she fetched them out and laid them in a row +on the table. Then, "You may look now," she said; +"it's my apprise," and she stood at one side to enjoy +the sight of their pleasure.</p> + +<p>"Hurrah," cried Terry, "pipes for soap-bubbles! +Isn't it jolly? Isn't Peggy a brick?"</p> + +<p>"Dear Peggy," said Baldwin, holding up his +plump face for a kiss.</p> + +<p>"Poor old Peg-top," said Thor, patronisingly. +"They seem very good pipes; and as there's six of +them, you and I can break one a-piece if we like, +Terry, without its mattering."</p> + +<p>Peggy looked rather anxious at this.</p> + +<p>"Don't try to break them, Thor, pelease," she +said; "for if you beginned breaking it might go on, +and then it would be all spoilt like the last time, for +there's no fun in soap-bubbling by turns."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, that's quite true," said Terry. "You remember +the last time how stupid it was. But of +course we won't break any, 'specially as they're +yours, Peggy. We'll try and keep them good for +another time."</p> + +<p>"Did you spend all your pennies for them?" +asked Baldwin, sympathisingly.</p> + +<p>"Not quite all," said Peggy. "I choosed them +myself," she went on, importantly. "There was a +lot in a box."</p> + +<p>"Why, where did you get them? You didn't go +yourself to old Whelan's, surely?" asked Thor, +sharply.</p> + +<p>"Yes, I runned across the road," said Peggy. +"You always get them there, Thor."</p> + +<p>"But it's quite different. I can tell you mamma +won't be very pleased when she comes home to hear +you've been so disobedient."</p> + +<p>Poor Peggy's face, so bright and happy, clouded +over, and she seemed on the point of bursting into +tears.</p> + +<p>"I weren't disobedient," she began. "Miss Earnshaw +said, 'Very well, dear,' and so I thought——"</p> + +<div class="figleft" style="width: 459px;"> +<img src="images/i011.jpg" width="459" height="700" alt=""They were soon all four very happy at the pretty play...."" title="" /> +</div> + +<p>"Of course," interrupted Terry; "Peggy's never +disobedient, Thor. We'll ask mamma when she comes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> +home; but she won't be vexed with you, darling. +You won't need to go again before then."</p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, comforted, "I don't want to go +again, Terry dear. It doesn't smell very nice in the +shop. But the <i>children's</i> house is very clean, Terry. +I'm sure mamma would let us go <i>there</i>."</p> + +<p>"Those Simpkinses over old Whelan's," said +Terry. "Oh yes, I know mother goes there herself +sometimes, though as for that she goes to old Whelan's +too. But we're wasting time; let's ask Fanny for a +tin basin and lots of soap."</p> + +<p>They were soon all four very happy at the pretty +play. The prettiness of it was what Peggy enjoyed +the most; the boys, boy-like, thought little but of +who could blow the biggest bubbles, which, as +everybody knows, are seldom as rich in colour as +smaller ones.</p> + +<p>"I like the rainbowiest ones best," said Peggy. +"I don't care for those 'normous ones Thor makes. +Do you, Baldwin?"</p> + +<p>Baldwin stopped to consider.</p> + +<p>"I suppose very big things aren't never so pretty +as littler things," he said at last, when a sort of grunt +from Terry interrupted him. Terry could not speak, +his cheeks were all puffed out round the pipe, and he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span> +dared not stop blowing. He could only grunt and +nod his head sharply to catch their attention to the +wonderful triumph in soap-bubbles floating before +his nose. There was a big one, as big as any of +Thorold's, and up on the top of it a lovely every-coloured +wee one, the most brilliant the children had +ever seen—a real rainbow ball.</p> + +<p>They all clapped their hands, at least Peggy and +Baldwin did so. Thorold shouted, "Hurrah for Terry's +new invention. It's like a monkey riding on an +elephant." But Peggy did not think that was a +pretty idea.</p> + +<p>"It's more like one of the very little stars sitting +on the sun's knee," was her comparison, which Baldwin +corrected to the moon—the sun was too yellow, +he said, to be like a no-colour bubble.</p> + +<p>Then they all set to work to try to make double-bubbles, +and Thor actually managed to make three, +one on the top of the other. And Terry made a very +big one run ever so far along the carpet without +breaking, bobbing and dancing along as he blew it +ever so gently.</p> + +<p>And as a finish-up they all four put their pipes +into the basin and blew together, making what they +called "bubble-pudding," till the pudding seemed to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span> +get angry and gurgled and wobbled itself up so high +that it ended by toppling over, and coming to an untimely +end as a little spot of soapy water on the table.</p> + +<p>"Pride must have a fall, you see," said Thor.</p> + +<p>"It's like the story of the frog that tried to be as +big as an ox," said Terence, at which they all laughed +as a very good joke.</p> + +<p>Altogether Peggy's pipes turned out a great success, +and the rainy afternoon passed very happily.</p> + +<p>The Sunday that came after that Saturday was +showery, sunny, and rainy by turns, like a child who +having had a great fit of crying and sobbing can't +get over it all at once, and keeps breaking into little +bursts of tears again, long after the sorrow is all over. +But by Monday morning the world—Peggy's world, +that is to say—seemed to have quite recovered its +spirits. The sun came out smiling with pleasure, +and even the town birds, who know so little about +trees, and grass, and flowers, and all those delightful +things, hopped about and chirruped as nicely as +could be. The boys set off to school in good spirits, +and while Fanny was taking down the breakfast-things +Peggy got out the little red shoes, and set +them on the window-sill, where they had not been +for several days.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span></p> + +<p>"There, dear little red shoes," she said, softly, +"you may look out again at the pretty sun and the +sky, and the fairy cottage up on the mounting. You +can see it quite plain to-day, dear little shoes. The +clouds is all gone away, and it's shinin' out all white +and beautiful, and I daresay the mamma's standin' +at the door with the baby—or p'raps," Peggy was +never very partial to the baby, "it's asleep in its +cradle. Yes, I think that's it. And the hens and +cocks and chickens is all pecking about, and the +cows moo'in. Oh, <i>how</i> I do wish we could go and +see them all, don't you, dear little shoes?"</p> + +<p>She stood gazing up at the tiny white speck, to +other eyes almost invisible, as if by much gazing it +would grow nearer and clearer to her; there was a +smile on her little face, sweet visions floated before +Peggy's mind of a day, "some day," when mamma +should take her out "to the country," to see for herself +the lovely and delightful sights that same dear +mamma had described.</p> + +<p>Suddenly Fanny's voice brought her back to +present things. Fanny was looking rather troubled.</p> + +<p>"Miss Peggy, love," she said, "cook and I can't +think what's making Miss Earnshaw so late this +morning. She's always so sharp to her time. I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> +don't like leaving you alone, but I don't know what +else to do. Monday's the orkardest day, for we're +always so busy downstairs, and your papa was just +saying this morning that I was to tell Miss Earnshaw +to take you a nice long walk towards the +country, seeing as it's so fine a day. It will be right +down tiresome, it will, if she don't come."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Fanny," said Peggy. "I don't +mind much being alone, and I daresay Miss Earnshaw +will come. I <i>should</i> like to go a nice walk +to-day," she could not help adding, with a longing +glance out at the sunny sky.</p> + +<p>"To be sure you would," said Fanny, "and it stands +to reason as you won't be well if you don't get no +fresh air. I hope to goodness the girl will come, but +I doubt it—her mother's ill maybe, and she's no one +to send. Well, dear, you'll try and amuse yourself, +and I'll get on downstairs as fast as I can."</p> + +<p>Peggy went back to the window and stood there +for a minute or two, feeling rather sad. It did seem +hard that things should go so very "contrarily" +sometimes.</p> + +<p>"Just when it's such a fine day," she thought, +"Miss Earnshaw doesn't come. And on Saturday +when we <i>couldn't</i> have goned a walk she did come.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> +Only on Saturday it did rain very badly in the +afternoon and she didn't stay, so that wasn't a +pity."</p> + +<p>Then her thoughts went wandering off to what +the dressmaker had told her of having to go a long +way out into the country on Saturday afternoon, +and of how wet and muddy the lanes would be. +Peggy sighed; she <i>couldn't</i> believe country lanes +could ever be anything but delightful.</p> + +<p>"Oh how <i>very</i> pretty they must be to-day," she +said to herself, "with all the little flowers coming +peeping out, and the birds singing, and the cocks and +hens, and the cows, and—and——" she was becoming +a little confused. Indeed she wasn't <i>quite</i> sure what +a "lane" really meant—she knew it was some kind +of a way to walk along, but she had heard the word +"path" too,—were "lane" and "path" quite the +same? she wondered. And while she was wondering +and gazing out of the window, she was startled all of +a sudden by a soft, faint tap at the door. So soft +and faint that if it had been at the window instead +of at the door it might have been taken for the flap +of a sparrow's wing as it flew past. Peggy stood +quite still and listened; she heard nothing more, and +was beginning to think it must have been her fancy,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> +when again it came, and this time rather more +loudly. "Tap, tap." Yes, "certingly," thought +Peggy, "there's somebody there."</p> + +<p>She felt a little, a <i>very</i> little frightened.</p> + +<p>Should she go to the door and peep out, or should +she call "Come in"? she asked herself. And one or +two of the "ogre" stories that Thorold and Terry +were so fond of in their "Grimm's Tales," <i>would</i> +keep coming into her head—stories of little princesses +shut up alone, or of giants prowling about to find a +nice tender child for supper. Peggy shivered. But +after all what was the use of standing there fancying +things? It was broad, sunny daylight—not at all +the time for ogres or such-like to be abroad. Peggy +began to laugh at her own silliness.</p> + +<p>"Very likely," she thought, "it's Miss Earnshaw +playing me a trick to 'apprise me, 'cos she's so late +this morning."</p> + +<p>This idea quite took away her fear.</p> + +<p>"It's you, Miss Earnshaw, I'm quite sure it's +you," she called out; "come in quick, you funny +Miss Earnshaw. Come in."</p> + +<p>But though the door slowly opened, no Miss +Earnshaw appeared. Peggy began to think this was +carrying fun too far.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Why don't you come in quick?" she said, her +voice beginning to tremble a little.</p> + +<p>The door opened a little farther.</p> + +<p>"Missy," said a low voice, a childish hesitating +voice, quite different from Miss Earnshaw's quick +bright way of speaking, "Missy, please, it's me, +Sarah, please, miss."</p> + +<p>And the door opened more widely, and in came, +slowly and timidly still, a small figure well known +to Peggy. It was none other than Light Smiley.</p> + +<p>Peggy could hardly speak. She was so very +much astonished.</p> + +<p>"Light Smiley—Sarah, I mean," she exclaimed, +"how did you come? Did you see Fanny? Did +she tell you to come upstairs?"</p> + +<p>Sarah shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know who Fanny is, missy. I just +comed in of myself. The doors was both open, and +I didn't meet nobody. I didn't like for to ring or +knock. I thought mebbe your folk'd scold if I did—a +gel like me. Mother knows I've comed; she +said as how I'd better bring it myself."</p> + +<p>And she held up what Peggy had not noticed +that she was carrying—the big umbrella that had +caused so much trouble two days before.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The numbrella," cried Peggy. "Oh thank you, +Sarah, for bringing it back. I never thought of it! +How stupid it was of me."</p> + +<p>"Mother told me for to bring it to the door and +give it in," Sarah went on. "I didn't mean to come +upstairs, but, the door was open, you see, miss, and +I knowed your nussery was at the top, and—I 'ope +it's not a liberty."</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Peggy, her hospitable feelings +awaking to see that her little visitor was still standing +timidly in the doorway, "I'm <i>very</i> glad you've +comed. You don't know how glad I am. It's so +lonely all by myself—Miss Earnshaw hasn't come +this morning. Come in, Light Smiley, do come in. +Oh how nice! I can show you the mountings and +the little white cottage shining in the sun."</p> + +<p>She drew Sarah forwards. But before the child +looked out of the window, her eyes were caught by +the tiny red slippers on the sill.</p> + +<p>"Lor'," she said breathlessly, "what splendid +shoes! Are they for—for your dolly, missy? +They're too small for a baby, bain't they?"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," said Peggy, "they're too small for our +baby, a great deal. But then he's very fat."</p> + +<p>"They'd be too small for ours too, though she's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span> +not a hextra fine child for her age. She were a +very poor specimint for a good bit, mother says, +but she's pickin' up now she's got some teeth through. +My—but them shoes is neat, to be sure! They +must be for a dolly."</p> + +<p>"<i>I've</i> no doll they'd do for," said Peggy, "but I +like them just for theirselves. <i>I</i> always put them +to stand there on a fine day; they like to look out +of the window."</p> + +<p>Sarah stared at Peggy as if she thought she was +rather out of her mind!—indeed the children at the +back had hinted to each other that missy, for all she +was a real little lady, was very funny-like sometimes. +But Peggy was quite unconscious of it.</p> + +<p>"Lor'," said Sarah at last, "how can shoes see, +they've no eyes, missy?"</p> + +<p>"But you can <i>fancy</i> they have. Don't you ever +play in your mind at fancying?" asked Peggy. "I +think it's the nicest part of being alive, and mamma +says it's no harm if we keep remembering it's not +real. But never mind about that—do look at the +hills, Sarah, and oh, <i>can</i> you see the white speck +shining in the sun? <i>That's</i> the cottage—I call it +my cottage, but <i>p'raps</i>," rather unwillingly, "it's the +one your papa lived in when he was little."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"D'ye really think so?" said Sarah, eagerly. +"It's Brackenshire over there to be sure, and father's +'ome was up an 'ill—deary me, to think as it might +be the very place. See it—to be sure I do, as plain +as plain. It do seem a good bit off, but father he +says it's no more'n a tidy walk. He's almost promised +he'll take some on us there some fine day +when he's an 'oliday. I axed 'im all I could think +of—missy—all about the cocks and 'ens and cows +and pigses."</p> + +<p>"Not pigs," interrupted Peggy. "I don't like +pigs, and I won't have them in my cottage."</p> + +<p>"I wasn't a-talking of your cottage," said Sarah, +humbly. "'Twas what father told us of all the +things he seed in the country when he were a boy +there. There's lots of pigses in Brackenshire."</p> + +<p>"Never mind. We won't have any," persisted +Peggy. "But oh, Light Smiley, do look how splendid +the sky is—all blue and all so shiny. I never sawed +such a lovely day. I would so like to go a walk."</p> + +<p>"And why shouldn't you?" asked Sarah.</p> + +<p>"There's no one to take me," sighed Peggy. "It's +Monday, and Fanny's very busy on Mondays, and I +told you that tiresome Miss Earnshaw's not comed."</p> + +<p>Sarah considered a little.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Tell you what, missy," she said, "why shouldn't +we—you and me—go a walk? I'm sure mother'd +let me. I've got my 'at, all 'andy, and I did say to +mother if so as missy seed me I might stop a bit, +and she were quite agreeable. I'm a deal older nor +you, and I can take care of you nicely. Mother's +training me for the nussery."</p> + +<p>Peggy started up in delight. She had been half +sitting on the window-sill, beside the shoes.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Light Smiley," she said, "how lovely! Of +course you could take care of me. We'd go up +Fernley Road, straight up—that's the way to +Brackenshire, you know, and p'raps we might go far +enough to see the white cottage plainer. If it's not +a very long way to get there, we'd be sure to see it +much plainer if we walked a mile or two. A mile +isn't very far. Oh, do let's go—quick! quick!"</p> + +<p>But Sarah stopped her.</p> + +<p>"You'd best tell your folks first, missy," she said. +"They'll let you go and be glad of it, I should say, +if they're so busy, and seein' as they let you come +over to our 'ouse, and your mar knowin' us and all."</p> + +<p>"It was Miss Earnshaw that let me go," said +Peggy, "and then she said she didn't know I'd +goned. And Thor said—oh no, he only said I<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> +shouldn't have goned to the shop. But I'll ask +Fanny—I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll put on my +boots and my hat and jacket—you shall help me, +Sarah, and then we'll go down and I'll call to Fanny +from the top of the kitchen stairs and ask her if I +may go out with you, Sarah, dear. I'm sure she'll +say I may."</p> + +<p>So the two little maidens went into the night +nursery, where Light Smiley was greatly interested +in looking at her own dwelling-place from other +people's windows, and quite in her element too, +seeing that she was being trained for the nursery, in +getting out Peggy's walking things, buttoning her +boots, and all the rest of it.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XI</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>UP FERNLEY ROAD<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"But the way is long and toilsome,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">And the road is drear and hard;</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 0.5em;">Little heads and hearts are aching,</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">Little feet with thorns are scarred."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 8em;"><i>The Children's Journey.</i></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">Light Smiley</span> kept looking round the room with +great satisfaction.</div> + +<p>"It is nice in 'ere and no mistake," she said at +last. "Your 'ats and coats and frocks all in a row, +as neat as neat, and these little white beds a sight +to be seen. I should love for Rebecca and Matilda-Jane +to see it."</p> + +<p>"They will," said Peggy, "when I avite you all +to a tea-party, you know."</p> + +<p>Sarah drew a deep breath. A tea-party in these +beautiful nurseries seemed almost too good ever to +come true.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is there a many nusseries as nice as this 'un, do +you think, missy? I do 'ope as I'll get into a nice +one when I'm big enough. One 'ud take a pride in +keeping it clean and tidy."</p> + +<p>"I don't think this is at all a <i>grand</i> one," +Peggy replied. "Mamma's was much grander when +she was little, I know. But, of course, she's very +pertickler, and so's nurse, about it being very tidy."</p> + +<p>And then, Peggy being ready, the quaint pair of +friends took each other's hands and set off to the +top of the kitchen stairs.</p> + +<p>"Should we take the humberellar?" said Sarah, +suddenly stopping at the foot of the first little flight +of stairs. "I don't think it looks any ways like +rain, still one never knows, and I can carry it easy."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>Peggy, not looking at it from this point of view, +hesitated.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Sarah ran back and fetched the umbrella.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span></p> + +<p>When they got to the door at the top of the +kitchen stairs, Peggy opened it and called down +softly, "Fanny, are you there? Can you hear me?" +for she was not allowed to go down to the kitchen +by herself.</p> + +<p>But no one answered. Fanny was busy washing +in the back kitchen with both doors shut to keep +in the steam, and the cook had gone out to the +butcher's.</p> + +<p>"Fanny," called Peggy again.</p> + +<p>Then a voice came at last in return.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Peggy turned to Sarah in distress.</p> + +<p>"Fanny must be out too," she said.</p> + +<p>"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."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> + +<p>"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 <i>was</i> right!</p> + +<p>"He's a nice boy," she said to Sarah. "He won't +forget, will he?"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Peggy shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I don't know," she said, feeling rather ashamed +of her ignorance; "but I'd like to meet Fanny, so, +pelease, let us go that way."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>They trotted down the street in the sunshine; +it was very bright and fine—the air, even there in +the smoky town, felt this morning deliciously fresh +and spring-like.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>Light Smiley looked about her approvingly.</p> + +<p>"Yes," she said, "I does enjoy a real fine day. +And in the country it must be right-down fust-rate."</p> + +<p>"Oh, the country!" said Peggy; "oh dear, how +I do wish we could go as far as the country!"</p> + +<p>"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?"</p> + +<p>They were at the corner of the road by this time, +but there was no sign of Fanny or cook. "Webb's" +shop stood a little way down the other side, but as +far as they could see it was empty.</p> + +<p>"P'raps your folk don't deal there," said Sarah, to +which Peggy had nothing to say, and they stood +looking about them in an uncertain kind of way.</p> + +<p>"We may as well go on a bit," said Sarah at last, +"that there boy's sure to tell."</p> + +<p>Peggy had no objection, and they set off along +Fernley Road at a pretty brisk pace.</p> + +<p>They had not very far to go before, as Sarah said, +the road grew less town-like; the houses had little<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> +gardens round them, some of which were prettily +kept, and after a while they came to a field or two, +not yet built upon, though great placards stuck up +on posts told that they were waiting to be sold for +that purpose. They were very towny sort of fields +certainly, still the bright spring sunshine made the +best of them as of everything else this morning, and +the two children looked at them with pleasure.</p> + +<p>"There's nicer fields still, a bit farther on," said +Sarah. "I've been along this 'ere road several times. +It goes on and on right into the country."</p> + +<p>"I know," said Peggy, "it goes on into the +country of the mountings. But, Sarah," she said, +stopping short, and looking rather distressed, "I +don't think we see them any plainer than from the +nursery window, and the white cottage doesn't look +even as plain. Are you sure we're going the right +way?"</p> + +<p>"We couldn't go wrong," answered Sarah, "there's +no other way. But we've come no distance yet, +missy, and you see there's ups and downs in the +road that comes between us and the 'ills somehow. +I suppose at the window we could see straight-forward-like, +and then we was 'igher up."</p> + +<p>"Yes, that must be it," said Peggy; "but I would<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span> +like to go far enough to see a <i>little</i> plainer, Sarah, +wouldn't you? I've got the red shoes in my pocket, +you know, and when we come to a place where we +can see very nice and clear I'll take them out and +let them see too."</p> + +<p>"Lor'," said Sarah, "you <i>are</i> funny, missy."</p> + +<p>But she smiled so good-naturedly that Peggy did +not mind.</p> + +<p>After a bit they came to a place where another +road crossed the one they were on. This other road +was planted with trees along one side, and the shade +they cast looked cool and tempting.</p> + +<p>"I wish we could go along that way," said Peggy, +"but it would be the wrong way. It doesn't go on +to the mountings."</p> + +<p>Sarah did not answer for a minute. She was +trying to spell out some letters that were painted up +on the corner of a wall, which enclosed the garden +of a house standing in the road they were looking +down.</p> + +<p>"'B, R, A,'" she began, "'B, R, A, C, K:' it's it, +just look, missy. Bain't that Brackenshire as large +as life? 'Brackenshire Road.' It must be this +way," and she looked quite delighted.</p> + +<p>"But how can it be?" objected Peggy. "This<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span> +road <i>doesn't</i> go to the hills, Sarah. They're straight +in front."</p> + +<p>"But maybe it slopes round again after a bit," +said Sarah. "Lots of roads does that way, and runs +the same way really, though you wouldn't think so +at the start. It stands to reason, when it's got the +name painted up, it must lead Brackenshire way;" +and then suddenly, as a man with a basket on his +arm appeared coming out of one of the houses, she +darted up to him.</p> + +<p>"Please, mister, does this road lead to Brackenshire?" +she asked.</p> + +<p>The man did not look very good-natured.</p> + +<p>"Lead to where?" he said, gruffly.</p> + +<p>"To Brackenshire—it's painted up on the wall, +but we want to be sure."</p> + +<p>"If it's painted up on the wall, what's the sense +of askin' me?" he said. "If you go far enough no +doubt you'll get there. There's more'n one road to +Brackenshire."</p> + +<p>Sarah was quite satisfied.</p> + +<p>"You see," she said to Peggy, running back to +her, "it's all right. If we go along this 'ere road a +bit, I 'specs it'll turn again and then we'll see the +'ills straight in front."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span></p> + +<p>Peggy had no objection. Fernley Road was bare +and glaring just about there, and the trees were very +tempting.</p> + +<p>"It's really getting like the country," said Peggy, +as they passed several pretty gardens, larger and +much prettier than the small ones in Fernley Road.</p> + +<p>"Yes," Light Smiley agreed, "but though gardings +is nice, I don't hold with gardings anything like as +much as fields. Fields <i>is</i> splendid where you can +race about and jump and do just as you like, and no +fears of breakin' flowers or nothink."</p> + +<p>"Do you think we shall come to fields like that +soon?" said Peggy. "If there was a very nice one +we might go into it p'raps and rest a little, and look +at the mountings. I wish we could begin to see the +mountings again, Sarah, it seems quite strange +without them, and I'm getting rather tired of looking +at gardens when we can't go inside them, aren't +you?"</p> + +<p>Sarah was feeling very contented and happy. +She was, though a little body for her age, much +stronger than Peggy, as well as two years older, and +she looked at her companion with surprise when she +began already to talk of "resting."</p> + +<p>"Lor', missy, you bain't tired already," she was<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> +beginning, when she suddenly caught sight of something +which made her interrupt herself. This was +another road crossing the one they were on at right +angles, and running therefore in the same direction +as Fernley Road again. "'Ere's our way," she cried, +"now didn't I tell you so? And this way goes +slopin' up a bit, you see. When we get to the top +we'll see the 'ills straight 'afore us, and 'ave a +beeyutiful view."</p> + +<p>Peggy's rather flagging steps grew brisker at this, +and the two ran gaily along the new road for a little +way. But running uphill is tiring, and it seemed to +take them a long time to get to the top of the slope, +and when they did so, it was only to be disappointed. +Neither mountains nor hills nor white +cottage were to be seen, only before them a rather +narrow sort of lane, sloping downwards now and +seeming to lead into some rather rough waste +ground, where it ended. Peggy's face grew rather +doleful, but Sarah was quite equal to the occasion. +A little down the hill she spied a stile, over which +she persuaded Peggy to climb. They found themselves +in a potato field, but a potato field with a +path down the middle; it was a large field and at +the other end of the path was a gate, opening on to<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> +a cart track scarcely worthy the name of a lane. +The children followed it, however, till another stile +tempted them again, this time into a little wood, +where they got rather torn and scratched by +brambles and nettles as they could not easily find +a path, and Sarah fancied by forcing their way +through the bushes they would be sure to come out +on to the road again.</p> + +<p>It was not, however, till they had wandered backwards +among the trees and brambles for some time +that they got on to a real path, and they had to walk +a good way along this till they at last came on +another gate, this time sure enough opening into the +high road.</p> + +<p>Sarah's spirits recovered at once.</p> + +<p>"'Ere we are," she said cheerfully, "all right. +'Ere's Fernley Road again. Nothink to do but to +turn round and go 'ome if you're tired, missy. <i>I'm</i> +not tired, but if you'd rayther go no farther——"</p> + +<p>Peggy did not answer for a moment; she was +staring about her on all sides. The prospect was not +a very inviting one; the road was bare and ugly, +dreadfully dusty, and there was no shade anywhere, +and at a little distance some great tall chimneys +were to be seen, the chimneys of some iron-works,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> +from which smoke poured forth. There were a good +many little houses near the tall chimneys, they were +the houses of the people who worked there, but they +were not sweet little cottages such as Peggy dreamed +of. Indeed they looked more like a very small ugly +town, than like rows of cottages on a country road.</p> + +<p>"This isn't a pretty road at all," said Peggy at +last, rather crossly I am afraid, "it is very nugly, +and you shouldn't have brought me here, Sarah. I +can't see the mountings; they is quite goned away, +more goned away than when it rains, for then they're +only behind the clouds. This isn't Fernley Road, +Light Smiley. I do believe you've losted us, and +Peggy's so tired, and very, very un'appy."</p> + +<p>It was Peggy's way when she grew low-spirited to +speak more babyishly than usual; at such times it +was too much trouble to think about being a big girl. +Poor Sarah looked dreadfully distressed.</p> + +<p>"Oh, missy dear, don't cry," she said. "If it +bain't Fernley Road, it's <i>a</i> road any way, and there's +no call to be frightened. We can ax our way, but +I'd rayther not ax it at the cottages, for they might +think I was a tramp that'd stoled you away."</p> + +<p>"And what would they do then?" asked Peggy, +leaving off crying for a minute.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They'd 'av me up mebbe, and put us in the +lock-ups."</p> + +<p>"What's that?"</p> + +<p>"The place where the pl'ice leaves folk as they +isn't sure about."</p> + +<p>"Prison, do you mean?" said Peggy, growing +very pale.</p> + +<p>"Well, not ezackly, but somethin' like."</p> + +<p>Peggy caught hold of Sarah in sudden terror.</p> + +<p>"Oh come along, Light Smiley, quick, quick. Let's +get back into the fields and hide or anything. Oh +come quick, for fear they should catch us." And +she tugged at Sarah, trying to drag her along the +road.</p> + +<p>"Stop, missy, don't take on so; there's no need. +We'll just go along quietly and no one'll notice us, +only you stop crying, and then no one'll think any +'arm. We'll not go back the way we came, it's so +drefful thorny, but we'll look out for another road or +a path. I 'spects you're right enough—this 'ere +bain't Fernley Road."</p> + +<p>Peggy swallowed down her sobs.</p> + +<p>"I don't think you look quite big enough to have +stolened me, Sarah," she said at last. "But I would +like to get back into the fields quick. If only we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> +could see the mountings again, I wouldn't be quite +so frightened."</p> + +<p>They had not gone far before they came upon a +gateway and a path leading through a field where +there seemed no difficulties. Crossing it they found +themselves at the edge of the thorny wood, which +they skirted for some way. Peggy's energy, born of +fear, began to fail.</p> + +<p>"Sarah," she said at last, bursting into fresh tears, +"Peggy can't go no farther, and I'm so hungry too. +I'm sure it's long past dinner-time. You must sit +down and rest; p'raps if I rested a little, I wouldn't +feel so very un'appy."</p> +<div class="figright" style="width: 457px;"> +<img src="images/i012.jpg" width="457" height="700" alt=""And at last, though she was really so anxious and distressed...." title="" /> +</div> +<p>Sarah looked at her almost in despair. She herself +was worried and vexed, very afraid too of the +scolding which certainly awaited her at home, but +she was not tired nor dispirited, though very sorry +for Peggy, and quite aware that it was she and not +"missy" who was to blame for this unlucky expedition.</p> + +<p>"I'd like to get on," she said, "we're sure to gets +back into a road as'll take us 'ome before long. +Couldn't I carry you, missy?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, "you're far too little. And +I can't walk any more without resting. You're very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> +unkind, Light Smiley, and I wish I'd never seen +you."</p> + +<p>Poor Sarah bore this bitter reproach in silence.</p> + +<p>She looked about for a comfortable seat in the +hedge, and settled herself so that Peggy could rest +against her. The sunshine, though it had seemed +hot and glaring on the bare dusty road was not +really very powerful, for it was only late April, +though a very summerlike day. Peggy left off +crying and said no more, but leant contentedly +enough against Sarah.</p> + +<p>"I'm comf'able now," she said, closing her eyes. +"Thank you, Light Smiley. I'll soon be rested, and +then we'll go on."</p> + +<p>But in a moment or two, by the way she breathed, +Sarah saw that she had fallen asleep.</p> + + + +<p>"Bless us," thought the little guardian to herself, +"she may sleep for hours. Whatever 'ull I do? +She's that tired—and when she wakes she'll be that +'ungry, there'll be no getting her along. She'll be +quite faint-like. If I dared leave her, I'd run on till +I found the road and got somebody to 'elp carry +her. But I dursn't. If she woked up and me gone, +she'd be runnin' who knows where, and mebbe never +be found again. Poor missy—it'll be lock-ups and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> +no mistake, wusser I dessay for me, and quite right +too. Mother'll never say I'm fit for a nussery after +makin' sich a fool of myself."</p> + +<p>And in spite of her courage, the tears began to +trickle down Sarah's face. Peggy looked so white +and tiny, lying there almost in her arms, that it +made her heart ache to see her. So she shut her +own eyes and tried to think what to do. And the +thinking grew gradually confused and mixed up +with all sorts of other thinkings. Sarah fancied she +heard her mother calling her, and she tried to +answer, but somehow the words would not come.</p> + +<p>And at last, though she was really so anxious +and distressed, the quiet and the mild air, and the +idleness perhaps, to which none of the Simpkins +family were much accustomed, all joined together +and by degrees hushed poor Light Smiley to sleep, +her arms clasped round Peggy as if to protect her +from any possible danger.</p> + +<p>It would have been a touching picture, had there +been any one there to see. Unluckily, not merely +for the sake of the picture, but for that of the +children themselves, there was no one.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XII</h2> + +<div class='chaptertitle'>THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN<br /><br /></div> + +<div class='poem'> +"I'll love you through the happy years,<br /> +<span style="margin-left: 2em;">Till I'm a nice old lady."</span><br /> +<span style="margin-left: 7em;"><i>Poems written for a Child.</i></span><br /> +<br /></div> + + +<div class='unindent'><span class="smcap">When</span> they woke, both of them at the same moment +it seemed, though probably one had roused the other +without knowing it, the sun had gone, the sky +looked dull, it felt chilly and strange. Peggy had +thought it must be past dinner-time before they had +sat down to rest; it seemed now as if it must be +past tea-time too!</div> + +<p>Sarah started up, Peggy feebly clinging to her.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, dear," said Sarah, "I shouldn't have +gone to sleep, and it's got that cold!" She was +shivering herself, but Peggy seemed much the worse +of the two. She was white and pinched looking, and +as if she were half stupefied.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I'm so cold," she said, "and so hungry. I +thought I was in bed at home. I do so want to go +home. I'm sure it's very late, Light Smiley; do +take me home."</p> + +<p>"I'm sure, missy, it's what I want to do," said +poor Sarah. "I'm afeared it's a-going to rain, and +whatever 'ull we do then? You wouldn't wait 'ere +a minute, would you, while I run to see if there's a +road near?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," said Peggy, "I won't stay alone. I'm +very, very frightened, Light Smiley, and I think I'm +going to die."</p> + +<p>"Oh Lor', missy, don't you say that," said +Sarah, in terror. "If you can't walk I'll carry +you."</p> + +<p>"I'll try to walk," said Peggy, picking up some +spirit when she saw Sarah's white face.</p> + +<p>And then the two set off again, dazed and miserable, +very different from the bright little pair that +had started up Fernley Road that morning.</p> + +<p>Things, however, having got to the worst, began +to mend, or at least were beginning to mend for +them, though Peggy and Sarah did not just yet +know it. Not far from the edge of the field where +they were, a little bridle-path led into a lane, and a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span> +few yards down this lane brought them out upon +Fernley Road again at last.</p> + +<p>"I see the mountings," cried Peggy, "oh, Light +Smiley, Peggy sees the mountings. P'raps we won't +die, oh p'raps we'll get home safe again."</p> + +<p>But though she had been trying to be brave, now +that she began to hope again, it was too much for +her poor little nerves—Peggy burst into loud sobbing.</p> + +<p>"Oh, dear missy, try not to cry," said Sarah. +"There—there—where's your hankercher?" and she +dived into Peggy's pocket in search of it. And as +she pulled it out, out tumbled at the same time the +two little scarlet shoes, falling on the ground.</p> + +<p>"Oh Light Smiley, my red shoes. They'll be all +spoilt and dirtied," said Peggy, as well as she could, +for Sarah was dabbing the handkerchief all over her +face.</p> + +<p>Sarah stooped to pick them up; both children +were too much engaged to notice the sound of wheels +coming quickly along the quiet road. But the sight +of a speck of dirt on one of the shoes set Peggy off +crying again, and she cried for once pretty loudly. +The wheels came nearer, and then stopped, and this +made Sarah look round. A pony-carriage driven by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> +a lady had drawn up just beside them. The groom, +sitting behind, jumped down, though looking as if +he did not know what he was to do.</p> + +<p>"What is the matter, little girls?" said the lady.</p> + +<p>"It's, please'm—we've lost our road—it's all +along o' me, mum—but I didn't mean no 'arm, only +missy's that wore out'm, and——" but before Sarah +could get farther, she was stopped by a sort of cry +from both the lady and Peggy at once.</p> + +<p>"Oh, oh," called out Peggy, "it's the shoes-lady—oh, +pelease, pelease, take me home," and she +seemed ready to dart into the lady's arms.</p> + +<p>"I do believe," <i>she</i> said, "I do believe it's the +little girl I saw at the bootmaker's, and—yes, of +course it is—there are the shoes themselves! My +dear child, whatever are you doing to be so far from +home—at least I suppose you live in the town?—and +what have you got the dolly's shoes with you +for?"</p> + +<p>"I brought them for them to see the mountings +and the white cottage," sobbed Peggy; "but I'm so +cold and hungry, pelease take me home, oh, pelease, +do."</p> + +<p>The lady seemed rather troubled. Even if she +had not remembered Peggy, she would have seen in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span> +a moment that she was a little lady, though Peggy +looked miserable enough with her torn clothes, and +scratched and tear-stained face.</p> + +<p>"Poor child," she said, "tell me your name, and +where you live."</p> + +<p>"I'm Peggy, but I don't 'amember my nother +name, 'cos I'm tired and it's very long," she said.</p> + +<p>The lady looked at Sarah. Sarah shook her +head.</p> + +<p>"No, mum, I don't know it neither, but I knows +the name of the street. 'Tis Bernard Street'm—off +Fernley Road, and their back winders looks over to +us. We're Simpkinses'm, and missy's mar knows +as we're 'speckable, and mother she never thought +when she told me to take back the humberellar, as +I'd lead missy sich a dance. I'll never do for the +nussery, no never. I'm not steady enough," and +here Light Smiley gave signs of crying herself.</p> + +<p>It was not easy for the lady to make out the +story, but by degrees, with patience she did so. But +while talking she had lifted Peggy into the carriage +beside her, and wrapped her up in a shawl that lay +on the seat, Peggy nestling in, quite contentedly.</p> + +<p>"Now," said the lady, "you get in too, Sarah +Simpkins, and I'll drive you both home. I was on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span> +my way home out into the country, but I can't leave +you here on the road. This is Fernley Road, but +it's quite four miles from the town."</p> + +<p>In scrambled Sarah, divided between fear of her +own and Peggy's relations' scoldings when they got +home, and the delight and honour of driving in a +carriage! The groom would have liked to look +grumpy, I am quite sure, but he dared not. Peggy, +for her part, crept closer and closer to the lady, and +ended by falling asleep again, so that it was a good +thing Light Smiley was sitting on the other side, to +keep her from falling out.</p> + +<p>The four miles seemed very short to Sarah, and +as they got into the outskirts of the town her face +grew longer and longer.</p> + +<p>"I'm more'n half a mind to run away, I 'ave," +she said to herself, quite unaware she was speaking +aloud. "It'll be more'n I can stand, mother and +Rebecca and all on 'em down on me, for I didn't +mean no 'arm. I'd best run away."</p> + +<p>The lady turned to her, hitherto she had not +taken much notice of Sarah, but now she felt sorry +for the little girl.</p> + +<p>"What are you saying, my dear?" she said +gently, though all the same her voice made Sarah<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span> +jump. "Are you afraid of going home? You have +not done anything naughty, exactly, as far as I +understand. It was only thoughtless. I will go +with you to your home if you like, and explain to +your mother how it was."</p> + +<p>"Oh thank you, mum," said Sarah, eagerly, her +spirits rising again at once; "you see, mum, I do so +want to be in the nussery onst I'm big enough, and +I was so afeared mother'd never think of it again. +I only wanted to please little missy, for she seemed +so lonely like, her mar and all bein' away and no +one for to take her a walk. She's a sweet little +missy, she is, but she's only a baby, so to say; she +do have such funny fancies. 'Twas all to see the +cottage on the 'ills she wanted to come up Fernley +Road so badly."</p> + +<p>"The cottage—what cottage?" asked the lady.</p> + +<p>Sarah tried to explain, and gradually the lady +got to understand what little Peggy had meant +about bringing the red shoes "to see the mountings +and the cottage."</p> + +<p>"She's always a-talking of the country, and father +lived there when he was a boy, and missy had got it +in her 'ead that he lived in a white cottage, like the +one she fancies about," Sarah went on.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I would like to take her out into the real +country, poor little pet," said the lady, looking +tenderly at the sweet tiny face of the sleeping child. +She loved all children, but little girls of Peggy's +age were especially dear to her, for many years +before she had had a younger sister who had died, +and the thought of her had come into her mind the +first time she had seen Peggy at the door of the +shoe shop. "If I can see any of her friends I +will ask them to let her spend a day with me," +she went on, speaking more to herself than to +Sarah.</p> + +<p>As they turned into Bernard Street a cab dashed +past them coming very fast from the opposite direction. +It drew up in front of the house which Sarah +was just that moment pointing out to the lady as +Peggy's home, and a gentleman, followed by a +young woman, sprang out. The door was opened +almost as soon as they rang, and then the three, the +other servant who had answered the bell, the young +woman and the gentleman, all stood together on the +steps talking so anxiously and eagerly that for a +moment or two they did not notice the pony-carriage, +and though the groom knew the whole +story by this time and had jumped down at once, he<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +was far too proper to do anything till he had his +lady's orders.</p> + +<p>"Ask the gentleman to speak to me," said the +lady, "and you jump out, little Sarah. I think he +must be Peggy's father."</p> + +<p>He had turned round by this time and came +hurrying forward. The moment the lady saw him +she knew she had guessed right. He was so like +Peggy—fair and gray-eyed, and with the same gentle +expression, and very young looking to be the father +not only of Peggy, but of <i>big</i> little boys like Thor +and Terry. His face looked pale and anxious, but +the moment he caught sight of the little sleeping +figure leaning against the lady it all lighted up and +a red flush came into his cheeks.</p> + +<p>"Oh—thank God," he exclaimed, "my little +Peggy! You have found her! How good of you! +But—she is not hurt?—she is all right?"</p> + +<p>"Yes—yes—only cold and hungry and tired," +said the lady eagerly, for Peggy did look rather +miserable still. "Will you lift her out?" and as +he did so, she got out herself, and turned to Sarah. +"May I bring this other child in for a moment," +she said, "and then I can explain it all?"</p> + +<p>Sarah followed gladly, but a sudden thought<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> +struck her, "Please'm," she said, bravely, though the +tears came to her eyes as she spoke, "p'raps I'd best +run 'ome; mother'll be frightened about me."</p> + +<p>"But I promised you should not be scolded," said +the lady; "stay," and she turned to Fanny, "she +lives close to, she says."</p> + +<p>"At the back—over the cobbler's," said Sarah, +readily.</p> + +<p>"Can you let her mother know she's all right, +then? And say I am coming to speak to her in a +moment," said the lady, and Fanny went off. She +had been so terrified about Peggy, and so afraid that +she would be blamed for carelessness, that she dared +not wait, though she was dying with curiosity to +know the whole story and what one of the Simpkins +children could have had to do with it.</p> + +<p>Peggy awoke by the time her father had got her +into the dining-room, where cook had made a good +fire and laid out Peggy's dinner and tea in one to be +all ready, for the poor woman had been hoping +every instant for the last few hours that the little +girl would be brought home again. It had been +difficult to find Peggy's father, as he was not at his +office, and Fanny had been there two or three times +to fetch him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh dear papa," were Peggy's first words, "I'm +so glad to be home. I'll never go up Fernley Road +again; but I did so want to see the cottage and the +mountings plainer. And it wasn't Light Smiley's +fault. She was very good to me, and I was very +cross."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> +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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"'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."</p> + +<p>"And a kind friend to you, I daresay," said the +stranger.</p> + +<p>"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<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> +'ave said she'd do her best to get a place in a nice +fam'ly for one of my girls."</p> + +<p>The lady glanced at the group of sisters.</p> + +<p>"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.</p> + +<p>The girl blushed so that her face matched her +arms, and she looked more "reddy" than ever. But +she shook her head.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid——" she began.</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>Sarah grinned with delight.</p> + +<p>"Not just yet," said Mrs. Simpkins; "she 'ave a +deal to learn, 'ave Sarah. Schooling and stiddiness<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> +to begin with. She don't mean no 'arm, I'll +allow."</p> + +<p>"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."</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>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.</p> + +<p>"I meant to be so good while mamma was away," +she whispered. "But I'll never do it again, papa. +I'll stay quiet in the nursery all alone, even if Miss +Earnshaw doesn't come back at all."</p> + +<p>For a message had come from the dressmaker +that her mother was very ill, as Fanny had feared,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> +and that she was afraid she would not be able to +leave her for several days.</p> + +<p>"It won't be so bad as that, dear," said her father. +"Mamma will be back in five days now, and I don't +think you are likely to be left alone in the nursery—certainly +not to-day;" and then he told her about +the lady having asked her to spend the day out in +the country with her, and that Peggy must be ready +by twelve o'clock, not to keep her new friend waiting.</p> + +<p>Peggy's eyes gleamed with delight.</p> + +<p>"Out into the country?" she said. "Oh, how +lovely! And oh, papa, do you think <i>p'raps</i> she lives +in a white cottage?"</p> + +<p>Papa shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I'm afraid it's not a cottage at all where she +lives," he said. "But I'm sure it is a very pretty +house, and let us hope it is a white one."</p> + +<p>"No," said Peggy, "you don't understand, papa—not +as well as mamma does. I don't care what +colour it is if it's only an 'ouse."</p> + +<p>And she couldn't understand why papa laughed +so that he really couldn't correct her. "I'm afraid, +Peggy," he said, "you've been taking lessons from +little Miss Simpkins. It's time mamma came home +again to look after you."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, I wish mamma was come home again," +said Peggy. "We can't do without her, can we, +papa?"</p> + +<p>But when the dear little pony carriage came up +to the door, and Peggy got in and drove off with her +kind friend, she was so happy that she had not even +time to wish for mamma.</p> + +<p>And what a delightful day she had! The lady's +house was very pretty, and the gardens and woods +in which it stood even prettier in Peggy's opinion. +And though it was not a cottage, there were all the +country things to see which Peggy was so fond of—cocks +and hens, and cows, and in one field lots of +sheep and sweet little lambkins. There were pigs +too, which Peggy would not look at, but ran away to +the other end of the yard as soon as she heard them +"grumphing," which amused the lady very much. +And in the afternoon she went a walk with her +friend through the village, where there were several +pretty cottages, but none that quite fitted Peggy's +fancy. When they came in again Peggy stood at +the drawing-room window, which looked out towards +Brackenshire, without speaking.</p> + +<p>"You like that view, don't you, dear?" said the +lady. "You can see the hills?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, "I can see the mountings, but +not the white cottage. It's got turned wrong somehow, +from here. I can only see <i>it</i> from the nursery +window at home," and she gave a very little sigh.</p> + +<p>"Some day," said the lady, "some day in the +summer when the afternoons are very long, I will +drive you right out a long way among the hills, and +perhaps we'll find the cottage then. For I hope +your mamma will often let you come to see me, my +little Peggy."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Peggy, "that would be lovely. I +<i>wonder</i> if we'd find the white cottage."</p> + +<p>No, they never did! The sweet long summer +days came, and many a bright and happy one Peggy +spent with her kind friend, but they never found the +white cottage on the hill. Peggy knew it so well in +her mind, she felt she could not mistake it, but +though she saw many white cottages which any one +else <i>might</i> have thought was it, she knew better. +And each time, though she sighed a little, she hoped +again.</p> + +<p>But before another summer came round Peggy +and her father and mother, and Thor, and Terry, and +Hal, and Baldwin, and Baby had all gone away—far +away to the south, many hours' journey from the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span> +dingy town and the Fernley Road, and the queer +old house in the back street where lived the cobbler +and old Mother Whelan and Brown Smiley and +Light Smiley and all the rest of them. Far away +too from the hills and the strange white speck in the +distance which Peggy called her cottage.</p> + +<p>So it never was more than a dream to her after +all, and perhaps—perhaps it was best so? For +nothing has ever spoilt the sweetness and the +mystery of the childish fancy—she can see it with +her mind's eye still—the soft white speck on the far-away, +blue hills—she can see it and think of it and +make fancies about it even now—now that she has +climbed a long, long way up the mountain of life, +and will soon be creeping slowly down the other +side, where the sun still shines, however, and there +are even more beautiful things to hope for than the +sweetest dreams of childhood.</p> + + +<div class='center'><br />THE END<br /><br /><br /> + + + +<span class='small'><i>Printed by</i> <span class="smcap">R. & R. Clark</span>, <i>Edinburgh.</i></span><br /> +<br /></div> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class='tnote'><h3>Transcriber's Notes:</h3> +<p>Obvious punctuation errors repaired.</p> +<p>Page 101, the text mentions a "Ferndale Road". There are many references elsewhere to "Fernley Road" so +this might be a misprint. It was retained.</p> +<p>The remaining corrections made are indicated by dotted lines under the corrections. Scroll the mouse over the word and the original text will <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'apprear'">appear</ins>.</p></div> + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Miss Peggy, by Mrs. Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE MISS PEGGY *** + +***** This file should be named 36015-h.htm or 36015-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/0/1/36015/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Little Miss Peggy + Only a Nursery Story + +Author: Mrs. Molesworth + +Illustrator: Walter Crane + +Release Date: May 2, 2011 [EBook #36015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE MISS PEGGY *** + + + + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + + + + + + + + +[Illustration: Cover] + + + + +LITTLE MISS PEGGY: + +ONLY A NURSERY STORY + + + "Would I could paint the serious brow, + The eyes that look the world in face, + Half-questioning, doubting, wondering how + This happens thus, or that finds place." + _My Opposite Neighbour._ + +[Illustration: "'What is the matter, little girls?' said the lady." P. +181] + + + + + +LITTLE MISS PEGGY: + +ONLY A NURSERY SToRY + +BY + +MRS. MoLESWoRTH + +WITH PICTURES + +BY + +WALTER CRANE + + + LoNDoN: + MACMILLAN & Co. + AND NEW YORK + 1887 + + + To the Memory of + + E. L. + + THE DEAR YOUNG FRIEND + + WHO SUGGESTED ITS NAME TO THIS LITTLE STORY, + + AND FROM WHOSE LATE HOME, + + SO INTIMATELY ASSOCIATED WITH HER, + + THIS DEDICATION IS MADE. + + BINDON, _August_ 1887. + + + + +CONTENTS + + + CHAPTER I PAGE + A BREAKFAST PARTY 1 + + CHAPTER II + THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL 18 + + CHAPTER III + "THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK" 33 + + CHAPTER IV + "REAL" FANCIES 48 + + CHAPTER V + THE LITTLE RED SHOES 65 + + CHAPTER VI + FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS 81 + + CHAPTER VII + A BUN TO THE GOOD 98 + + CHAPTER VIII + UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA 114 + + CHAPTER IX + THE OPPOSITE HOUSE 131 + + CHAPTER X + "SOAP-BUBBLING" 145 + + CHAPTER XI + UP FERNLEY ROAD 162 + + CHAPTER XII + THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN 178 + + + + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS + + + "WHAT IS THE MATTER, LITTLE GIRLS?" SAID THE LADY. _Frontispiece_ + + + PAGE + + HE HAD TO DRUM WITH A SPOON, FIRST IN ONE FAT HAND AND + THEN IN THE OTHER 2 + + THEY WERE SETTLED ON THE HEARTH-RUG--BABY ON PEGGY'S LAP 17 + + "SEE HAL," SHE SAID, "OVER THERE, FAR, FAR AWAY, NEELY IN + THE SKY, DOES YOU SEE THAT BLUEY HILL?" 27 + + SHE WAS RATHER A TERRIBLE-LOOKING OLD WOMAN; SHE ALWAYS + WORE A SHORT BED-GOWN ... AND SHE WAS GENERALLY TO + BE SEEN WITH A PIPE IN HER MOUTH 35 + + "TELL ME WHAT THE LITTLE WHITE HOUSE IS REELY LIKE" 52 + + PEGGY STOOD STILL, HER EYES FIXED ON THE BABY SHOES 68 + + "HERE'S THE OTHER SHOE, I'VE JUST FOUNDED IT" 92 + + SUDDENLY A WINDOW ABOVE OPENED, AND MOTHER WHELAN'S + BEFRILLED FACE WAS THRUST OUT 109 + + AN UMBRELLA ROLLING ITSELF ABOUT ON THE PAVEMENT 127 + + "TO BE SURE," SHE SAID, IN HER MOST GRACIOUS TONE. + "'TIS THE BEAUTIFUL PIPES I HAVE" 138 + + THE BOYS, BOY-LIKE, THOUGHT LITTLE BUT OF WHO COULD + BLOW THE BIGGEST BUBBLES 149 + + HUSHED LIGHT SMILEY TO SLEEP, HER ARM CLASPED ROUND + PEGGY 177 + + + + +CHAPTER I + +A BREAKFAST PARTY + + "Henry was every morning fed + With a full mess of milk and bread." + MARY LAMB. + + +"NO," said Peggy to herself, with a little sigh, "the naughty clouds has +covered it up to-day. I can't see it." + +"Miss Peggy," came nurse's voice from the other side of the room, "your +breakfast's waiting. Come to the table, my dear, and stand quiet while +Master Thor says the grace." + +[Illustration: "--Baby, who required a great deal of room to himself at +table, baby though he was. He had so many things to do during a meal, +you see, which grown-up children think quite unnecessary. He had to drum +with a spoon, first in one fat hand and then in the other; he had to dip +his crust first in nurse's cup of tea and next in Hal's jug of milk to +see which tasted best, and there would have been no fun in doing either +if he hadn't had to stretch a long way across; and besides all this he +felt really obliged now and then to put his feet upon the table for a +change, one at a time, of course."] + +Nurse spoke kindly, but she meant what she said. Peggy turned slowly +from the window and took her place among her brothers. She, and Thorold +and Terence, the two oldest boys, sat opposite nurse, and beside nurse +was Baby, who required a great deal of room to himself at table, baby +though he was. He had so many things to do during a meal, you see, +which grown-up children think quite unnecessary. He had to drum with a +spoon, first in one fat hand and then in the other; he had to dip his +crust first in nurse's cup of tea and next in Hal's jug of milk to see +which tasted best, and there would have been no fun in doing either if +he hadn't had to stretch a long way across; and besides all this he felt +really obliged now and then to put his feet upon the table for a change, +one at a time, of course. For even he, clever as he was, could not have +got both together out of the bars of his chair without toppling over. +Nurse had for some time past been speaking about beginning "to break +Master Baby in," but so far it had not got beyond speaking, and she +contented herself with seating him beside her and giving him a good +quarter of the table to himself, the only objection to which was that it +gave things in general a rather lopsided appearance. + +At the two ends sat Baldwin and Hal. Hal's real name, of course, was +Henry, though he was never called by it. Baldwin, on the contrary, had +no short name, partly perhaps because mamma thought "Baldie" sounded so +ugly, and partly because there was something about Baldwin himself +which made one not inclined to shorten his name. It suited him so well, +for he was broad and comfortable and slow. He was never in a hurry, and +he gave you the feeling that you needn't be in a hurry either. There was +plenty of time for everything, for saying the whole of his name as well +as for everything else. + +That made a lot of brothers, didn't it? Five, counting baby, and to +match them, or rather not to match them--for five and one are not a +match at all--only one little girl! She wondered about it a good deal, +when she had nothing else more interesting to wonder about. It seemed so +very badly managed that she should have five brothers, and that the five +brothers should only have one sister each. It wasn't always so, she +knew. The children at the back had plenty of both brothers and sisters; +she had found that out already. But I must not begin just yet about the +children at the back; you will hear about them in good time. + +There was a nice bowl of bread-and-milk at each child's place, and as +bread-and-milk is much better hot than cold, it was generally eaten up +quickly. But this morning, even after the grace was said, and the four +brothers who weren't baby had got on very well with theirs, Peggy sat, +spoon in hand, gazing before her and not eating at all. + +"What's the matter, Miss Peggy?" said nurse, when she had at last made +Baby understand that he really _wasn't_ to try to put his toes into her +tea-cup, which had struck him suddenly as a very beautiful thing to do; +"you've not begun to eat. Are you waiting for the sugar or the salt, or +can't you fix which you want this morning?" + +For there was a very nice and interesting rule in that nursery that +every morning each child might choose whether he or she would have salt +or sugar in the bread and milk. The only thing was that they had to be +quick about choosing, and that was not always very easy. + +Peggy looked up when nurse spoke to her. + +"Peggy wasn't 'toosing," she said. Then she grew a little red. "_I_ +wasn't 'toosing," she went on. For Peggy was five--five a good while +ago--and she wanted to leave off baby ways of talking. "I was +wondering." + +"Well, eat your breakfast, and when you've got half-way down the bowl +you can tell us what you were wondering about," said nurse. + +Peggy's spoon, already laden, continued its journey to her mouth. But +when it got there, and its contents were safely deposited between her +two red lips, she gave a little cry. + +"Oh!" she said, "it doesn't taste good. There's no salt or sugar." + +"'Cos you didn't put any in, you silly girl," said Thor. "I saw, but I +thought it'd be a good lesson. People shouldn't wonder when they're +eating." + +"Peggy wasn't eating; she was only going to eat," said Terry. "Never +mind, Peg-top. Thor shan't tease you. Which'll you have? Say quick," and +he pulled forward the sugar-basin and the salt-cellar in front of his +sister. + +"Sugar, pelease," said Peggy. "It's so 'told this morning." + +At this Thor burst out laughing. + +"What a Peggy-speech," he said. "Sugar's no warmer than salt." + +"Yes," said Baldwin, solemnly, from the other end of the table. "'Tis. +There's sugar in toffee and in jam, and they're hot, leastways they're +hot to be made. And there's salt in ices, for mamma said they're made +with salt." + +"What rubbish!" said Thor. "Nurse, isn't it rubbish? And when did you +ever see ices, I'd like to know, Baldwin?" + +"I did," Baldwin maintained. "Onst. But I'll not tell you when, if you +say rubbish." + +"It is rubbish all the same, and I'll prove it," said Thor. "You know +that nice smooth white sugar on the top of bridescake?--well, they ice +that to put it on--I know they do. Don't they, nurse?" + +"They call it icing, to be sure," nurse replied. "But that's no proof +that ices themselves mayn't be made with salt, Master Thor, for when you +come to think of it ices have sugar in them." + +"To be sure they have," Thor cried, triumphantly. "Nurse has proved +it--that sugar's no warmer than salt," which was not what nurse had +intended to say at all. + +But now Peggy, who all this time had been steadily eating, looked up +again. + +"Peggy was wondering," she said, "what's clouds. Is clouds alive?" + +Thor was all ready with his "you silly girl" again, but this time Terry +was before him. + +"They can't be alive," he said. "They've got no hands, or feet, or +mouths, and noses, and eyes, and----" + +"They _has_ noses," said Peggy, eagerly. "Peggy's seen them, and they +has wings--the little ones has wings, they fly so fast. And p'raps they +has got proper faces on their other sides, to look at the sun with. I've +seen shiny bits of the other sides turned over." + +"Yes," said Baldwin, solemnly again, as if that settled it, "so has I." + +"But they're not alive, Peggy, they're really not. They fly because the +wind blows them," said Terence. + +"Oh!" said Peggy, with a deep-drawn breath, "I see. Then if we all +blowed very hard at the window, if we all blowed together, couldn't we +blow them away? I do so want to blow them away when they come over my +hills." + +But when she had said this she grew very red, just as if she had told +something she had not meant to tell, and if any one had looked at her +quite close they would have seen that there were tears in her eyes. +Fortunately, however, no one had noticed her last words, for Thorold and +Terence too had burst out laughing at the beginning of her speech. + +"Fancy us all blowing out of the window together," they said. And they +began puffing out their cheeks and pretending to blow very hard, which +made them look so funny that Peggy herself burst out laughing too. + +"I'll tell you what," said Thor, when they were tired of laughing, "that +reminds me of soap-bubbles, we haven't had any for such a time. Nurse, +will you remember to let us have them the first wet half-holiday? +Mamma'll let us if you will." + +"And the pipes?" said nurse. "There was six new got the last time, and +they were to last, certain sure till the next time, and then----" + +"Oh I know," said Thor, "we took them to school and never brought them +back. Never mind--we'll get some more from old Mother Whelan. She always +keeps lots. We'll keep our halfpennies for two Saturdays--that'll do. +But we must be going, Terry and Baldwin. _I'm_ all ready." + +And he jumped up as he spoke, and pulled his satchel of books from under +his chair, where he had put them to be all ready. Baldwin slowly got +down from his place, for he was not only broad, but his legs were very +short, and came up to nurse to be helped on with his little overcoat, +while Terence began rushing about the room in a fuss, looking for one of +his books, which as usual couldn't be found at the last minute. + +"I had it just before breakfast, I'm _sure_ I had," he went on +repeating. "I haven't finished learning it, and I meant to look it over. +Oh dear, what shall I do?" + +The nursery party was too accustomed to Terry's misfortunes to be much +upset by them. Peggy sat still for a moment or two considering. Then she +spoke. + +"Terry," she said, "look in Baby's cot." + +Off flew Terence, returning in triumph, grammar in hand. + +"I'll learn it on the way to school. How did you know it was there, +Peggy?" + +"I sawed you reaching over to kiss Baby when you comed in to ask nurse +for a new shoe-lace this morning," said Peggy, with great pride. + +"Good girl," said Terence, as he slammed the door and rushed downstairs +to overtake his two brothers. + +The nursery seemed very quiet when the three big boys had gone. Quiet +but not idle; there was always a great deal to do first thing of a +morning, and Peggy had her own share of the doing to see to. She took +off her own breakfast pinafore and put on a quite clean one--one that +looked quite clean anyway, just as if it had never been on, even though +it had really been used two or three times. Peggy called it her "prayers +pinafore," and it always lasted a whole week, as it was only worn to go +down to the dining-room for five or ten minutes. Then she washed her +hands and stood still for nurse to give a tidying touch to her soft fair +hair, though it really didn't need it,--Peggy's hair never looked +messy,--and then she took off Hal's over pinafore which he wore on the +top of his blouse at meal-times, and helped him to wash his hands, by +which time nurse and baby were also ready, and the little procession set +off on their journey. If the prayers bell had not sounded yet, or did +not sound as they made their way down, nurse would stop at mamma's door +and tap, and the answer was sure to be "Come in." Then nurse would go on +downstairs with Baby, and Peggy and Hal would trot in to see mamma, and +wait a moment or two till she was ready. She was almost always nearly +ready, unless she was very, very tired; and in that case she would tell +them to go downstairs and come up and see her again after prayers, as +she was going to have breakfast in bed. They rather liked these days, +though of course they were sorry for mamma to be so tired, but it was +very interesting to watch her having her breakfast, and generally one +or two dainty bits of toast and marmalade would find their way to the +two little mouths. + +It was only since last winter that mamma had been so often tired and not +able to get up early. Before then she used always to come up to the +nursery to see her six children at breakfast, and prayers were early +enough for the three boys to stay for them, instead of having them at +school. For mamma was not at all a "lazy" mother, as you might think if +I did not explain. But last winter she had been very ill indeed, so ill +that papa looked dreadfully unhappy, and the boys had to take off their +boots downstairs so as not to make any noise when they passed her door, +and the days seemed very long to Peggy and Hal, worst to Peggy of +course, for Hal was still so little that almost all his life belonged to +the nursery. It was during that time that Peggy first found out the +white spot on the hill, which I am going to tell you about, for she used +to climb up on the window-sill and sit there looking out at whatever +there was to see for hours at a time. + +This morning mamma was evidently not tired, for just as the children +got to the landing on to which her door opened, out she came. + +"Well, darlings," she said, "there you are! Have the boys got off to +school all rightly, nurse?" + +"Oh yes, ma'am," nurse was beginning, but Peggy interrupted her. + +"Terry loosed his book, mamma dear, and Peg--_I_ founded it; I knewed +where it was 'cos I used my eyes like you said." + +"That was a very good thing," said mamma. She had talked to Peggy about +using her eyes a good deal, for Peggy had rather a trick of going to +sleep with her eyes open, like many children, and it becomes a very +tiresome trick if it isn't cured, and makes one miss a great many +chances of being useful to others, and of enjoying pleasant things one's +self. "Poor Terry--I wish he wasn't so careless. Where was his book this +time?" + +"In such a funny place, mamma dear," said Peggy. "In Baby's cot," and at +the sound of his name Baby crowed, which made both Peggy and Hal burst +out laughing, so that mamma had to hold their hands firmly to prevent +their tumbling down stairs. + +After prayers were over nurse took Baby and Hal away, but papa said +Peggy might stay for a few minutes. + +"I've scarcely seen you the last day or two, old woman," he said; "you +were fast asleep when I came home. What have you been about?" + +"About," Peggy repeated, looking puzzled. + +"Well--what have you been doing with yourself?" he said again. + +"I've been doing nothing with _myself_," Peggy replied, gravely. "I've +done my lessons and my sewing, and I've used my eyes." + +"Well, and isn't all that yourself?" asked papa, who was rather a tease. +"You've done your sewing with your fingers and your lessons with your +mind, and you've used your eyes for both--mind, fingers, eyes--those are +all parts of yourself." + +Peggy spread out her two hands on the table and looked at the ten pink +fingers. + +"Them's my fingers," she said, "but I don't know where that other thing +is--that what thinks. I'd like to know where it is. Papa, can't you tell +me?" + +There came a puzzled look into her soft gray eyes--mamma knew that look; +when it stayed long it was rather apt to turn into tears. + +"Arthur," she said to Peggy's papa, "you're too fond of teasing. Peggy +dear, nobody can see that part of you; there are many things we can't +ever see, or hear, or touch, which are real things all the same." + +Peggy's face lightened up again. She nodded her head softly, as if to +say that she understood. Then she got down from her chair and went up to +her father to kiss him and say good-bye. + +"Going already, Peg!" he said. "Don't you like papa teasing you?" + +"I don't mind," said Peggy, graciously; "you're only a big boy, papa. +I'm going 'cos nurse wants me to keep Baby quiet while she makes the +beds." + +But when she got round to the other side of the table to her mother, she +lingered a moment. + +"Mamma," she whispered, "_it's_ not there this morning--Peggy's fairy +house. It's all hided up. Mamma----" + +"Well, darling?" + +"Are you _sure_ it'll come back again?" + +"Quite sure, dear. It's only hidden by the clouds, as I've told you +before. You know you've often been afraid it was gone, and it's always +come again." + +"Yes, to be sure," said Peggy. "What a silly little girl I am, mamma +dear." + +And she laughed her own little gentle laugh. I can't tell how it was +that Peggy's little laugh used sometimes to bring tears to her mother's +eyes. + +When she got up to the nursery again she found she was very much wanted. +Nurse was in the night nursery which opened into the day one, and looked +out to the back of the house just as the other looked to the front. And +Baby was sitting on the hearth-rug, with Hal beside him, both seeming +far from happy. + +"Baby's defful c'oss, Peggy," said poor Hal. + +And Baby, though he couldn't speak, pouted out his lips and looked very +savage at Hal, which of course was very unreasonable and ungrateful of +him, as Hal had been doing everything he could to amuse him, and had +only objected to Baby pulling him across the floor by his curls. + +"Oh Baby," said Peggy, "that isn't good. Poor Hal's hair--see how you've +tugged it." + +For Baby was still grasping some golden threads in his plump fists. + +"Him sinks zem's feaders," said Hal, apologetically. He was so fond of +Baby that he couldn't bear any one to say anything against him except +himself. + +"But Baby must learn hairs isn't feathers," said Peggy, solemnly. "And +it isn't good to let him pull the feathers out of his parrot either, +Hal," she continued, "for some day he might have a _live_ parrot, and +then it would be cooel, and the parrot would _bite_ him--yes it would, +Baby." + +This was too much for Baby. He drew the corner of his mouth down, then +he opened it wide, very wide, and was just going to roar when Peggy +threw her arms round him and kissed him vigorously. + +"He's sorry, Hal--dear Baby--he's so very sorry. Kiss him, Hal. Let's +all kiss together," and the three soft faces all met in a bunch, which +Baby found so amusing that instead of continuing his preparations for a +good cry, he thought better of it, and went off into a laugh. + +"That's right," said Peggy. "Now if you'll both be very good boys I'll +tell you a story. Just wait a minute till I've tooked off my prayers +pinafore." + +She jumped up to do so. While she was unfastening it her eyes moved to +the window; she gave a little cry and ran forward. The day was clearing +up, the sun was beginning faintly to shine, and the clouds were +breaking. + +[Illustration: "And in another moment they were settled on the +hearth-rug--Baby on Peggy's lap--on, and off it too, for it was much too +small to accommodate the whole of him; Hal on the floor beside her, his +curly head leaning on his sister's shoulder in blissful and trustful +content." + +P. 17] + +"Mamma was right," exclaimed Peggy, joyfully; "I can see it--I can +see it! I can see my white house again, my dear little fairy house." + +She would have stayed there gazing out contentedly half the morning if +her little brothers had not called her back. + +"Peggy," said Hal, plaintively, "do tum. Baby's pulling Hal's 'air +adain." + +"Peggy's coming, dear," said the motherly little voice. + +And in another moment they were settled on the hearth-rug--Baby on +Peggy's lap--on, and off it too, for it was much too small to +accommodate the whole of him; Hal on the floor beside her, his curly +head leaning on his sister's shoulder in blissful and trustful content. + + + + +CHAPTER II + +THE WHITE SPOT ON THE HILL + + "O reader! had you in your mind + Such stores as silent thought can bring, + O gentle reader! you would find + A tale in everything. + What more I have to say is short, + And you must kindly take it: + It is no tale; but, should you think, + Perhaps a tale you'll make it." + W. WORDSWORTH. + + +"TELLING stories," when the teller is only five and some months old, and +the hearers one and a quarter and three, is rather a curious +performance. But Peggy was well used to it, and when in good spirits +quite able to battle with the difficulties of amusing Hal and Baby at +the same time. And these difficulties were not small, for, compared with +Baby, Hal was really "grown-up." + +It is all very well for people who don't know much about tiny children +to speak of them all together, up to--six or seven, let us say--as +"babies," but we who think we _do_ know something about them, can assure +the rest of the world that this is an immense mistake. One year in +nursery arithmetic counts for ten or even more in _real_ "grown-up" +life. There was a great difference between Peggy and Hal for instance, +but a still greater between Hal and Baby, and had there been a new baby +below him again, of course it would have been the greatest of all. Peggy +could not have explained this in words, but she knew it thoroughly all +the same, and she had learnt to take it into account in her treatment of +the two, especially in her stories telling. In reality the story itself +was all for Hal, but there was a sort of running accompaniment for Baby +which he enjoyed very much, and which, to tell the truth, I rather think +Hal found amusing too, though he pretended it was for Baby's sake. + +This morning her glance out of the window had made Peggy feel so happy +that the story promised to be a great success. She sat still for a +minute or two, her arms clasped round Baby's waist, gently rocking +herself and him to and fro, while her gray eyes stared before her, as if +reading stories in the carpet or on the wall. + +"Peggy," said Hal at last, giving her a hug--he had been waiting what he +thought a very long time--"Peggy, 'do on--no, I mean begin, p'ease." + +"Yes, Hal, d'reckly," said Peggy. "It's coming, Hal, yes, now I think +it's comed. Should we do piggies first, to please Baby before we begin?" + +"Piggies is _so_ silly," said Hal, disdainfully. + +"Well, we'll kiss him instead--another kiss all together, he does so +like that;" and when the kissing was over--"now, Baby dear, listen, and +p'raps you'll understand _some_, and if you're good we'll have piggies +soon." + +Baby gave a kind of grunt; perhaps he was thinking of the pigs, but most +likely it was just his way of saying he would be very good. + +"There was onst," Peggy began, "a little girl who lived in a big house +all by herself." + +"Hadn't she no mamma, or nurse, or--or--brudders?" Hal interrupted. + +"No, not none," Peggy went on. "She lived quite alone, and she didn't +like it. The house was as big as a--as a church, and she hadn't no bed, +and no chairs or tables, and there was very, _very_ high stairs." + +"Is there stairs in churches?" asked Hal. + +Peggy looked rather puzzled. + +"Yes, I think there is," she said. "There's people high up in churches, +so there must be stairs. But I didn't say it _were_ a church, Hal; I +only said as big as a church. And the stairs was for Baby--you'll +hear--p'raps there wasn't _reelly_ stairs. Now, Baby; one day a little +piggy-wiggy came up the stairs--one, two, three," and Peggy's hand came +creeping up Baby's foot and leg and across his pinafore and up his bare +arm again, by way of illustrating piggy's progress, "and when he got to +the top he said 'grumph,' and poked his nose into the little girl's +neck"--here Peggy's own nose made a dive among Baby's double chins, to +his exceeding delight, setting him off chuckling to himself for some +time, which left Peggy free to go on with the serious part of the story +for Hal's benefit--"and there was a window in the big house, and the +little girl used to sit there always looking out." + +"Always?" asked Hal again. "All night too? Didn't her ever go to bed?" + +"She hadn't no bed, I told you. No, she didn't sit there all night, 'cos +she couldn't have see'd in the dark. Never mind about the night. She sat +there all day, always looking out, 'cos there was something she liked +to see. If I tell you you won't tell nobody what it was, will you. Hal?" + +Hal looked very mystified, but replied obediently, + +"No, won't tell nobody," he said. + +"Well, then, I'll tell you what it was. It was a----" But at this moment +Baby, having had enough of his own meditations, began to put in a claim +to some special attention. The piggy had to be summoned and made to run +up and down stairs two or three times before he would be satisfied and +allow Peggy to proceed. + +"Well, Peggy?" said Hal eagerly. + +"It was a----" Oh dear, interrupted again! But this time the +interruption was a blessing in disguise. It was nurse come to fetch Baby +for his morning sleep. + +"And thank you, Miss Peggy, my dear, for keeping him so nice and good. I +heard you come up, and I knew they'd be all right with you," she said, +as she walked away with Baby, who was by no means sure that he wanted to +go. + +"Now," said Hal, edging closer to Peggy, "we'll be comfable. Go on, +Peggy--what she sawed." + +"It was a hill--far, far away, neely as far as the sky," said Peggy in a +mysterious tone. "When the sun comed she could see it plain--the hill +and what was there, but when the sun goed she couldn't. There was a +white spot on the hill, Hal, and that white spot was a lovely white +cottage. She knowed it, though she'd never see'd it." + +"How did she know it?" + +"Her mam--no, that's wrong, she hadn't no mamma--well, never mind, +_somebody_'d told her." + +"Were it _God_?" asked Hal, in an awestruck whisper. + +"I don't know. No, I don't think so. I think it's a little naughty to +say that, Hal. No, dear, don't cry," for signs of disturbance were +visible in Hal's round face. "You didn't mean, and it isn't never +naughty when we don't mean, you know. We'll go on about the little girl. +She knowed it was a lovely cottage, and she wanted _very_ much, as much +as could be, to go there, for the big house wasn't pretty, and it was +dark, nearly black, and the cottage was all white." + +"Her house wasn't as nice as _zit_, were it? Zit house isn't b'ack," +said Hal. + +"No," said Peggy, doubtfully. "_It_ wasn't as nice as this, but the +white house was much prettier than this." + +"How?" asked Hal. + +"Oh!" said Peggy, letting her eyes and her fancy rove about together, "I +think it was beautiful all over. It was all shiny white; the walls was +white, and the carpets was white, and the tables and the chairs was +white--all shiny and soft like--like----" + +"Baby's best sash," suggested Hal. + +"Well, p'raps--that'll do. And there was a cow and chickens and sheep, +and a kitchen where you could make cakes, and a garden with lots of +flowers and strawberries----" + +"All white?" asked Hal. + +"No, of course not. Strawberries couldn't be white, and flowers is all +colours. 'Twas the _droind-room_ that was all white." + +"And the milk and the eggs. Zem _is_ white," said Hal, triumphantly. + +"Very well. I didn't say they wasn't. But the story goes on that the +little girl didn't know how to get there; it was so far and so high up. +So she sat and cried all alone at the window." + +"All alone, _poor_ little girl," said Hal, with deep feeling. "Kick, +Peggy, kick, I'm 'doing to cry; make it come right _kick_. The crying's +just coming." + +"Make it wait a minute. I can't make it come right all so quick," said +Peggy. "It's going to come, so make the crying wait. One day she was +crying d'edful, worst than never, 'cos the sun had goned, and she +couldn't see the white cottage no more, and just then she heard +something saying, 'mew, mew,' and it was a kitten outside the window, +and it was just going to fall down and be killed." + +"That's not coming right. I _must_ cry," said Hal. + +"But she opened the window--there now, you see--and she pulled the +kitten in, so it didn't fall down, and it was so pleased it kissed her, +and when it kissed her it turned into a fairy, and it touched her neck +and made wings come, and then it opened the window again and flewed away +with the little girl till they came to the white cottage, and then the +little girl was quite happy for always." + +"Did the fairy stay with her always?" asked Hal. + +"No; fairies never does like that. They go back to fairyland. But the +little girl had nice milk and eggs and cakes, and she made nosegays with +the flowers, and the sun was _always_ shining, so she was quite, _quite_ +happy." + +"Her couldn't be happy all alone," said Hal. "I don't like zat story, +Peggy. You haven't made it nice at all. It's a nonsense story." + +Hal wriggled about and seemed very cross. Poor Peggy was not so much +indignant as distressed at failing in her efforts to amuse him. What was +the matter? It couldn't be that he was getting sleepy--it was far too +early for his morning sleep. + +"It isn't a nonsense story," she said, and she glanced towards the +window as she spoke. Yes, the sun was shining brightly, the morning +clouds had quite melted away; it was going to be a fine day after all. +And clear and white gleamed out the spot on the distant hill which Peggy +loved to gaze at! "Come here, Hal," she said, getting on to her feet and +helping Hal on to his, "come with me to the window and you'll see if +it's a nonsense story. Only you've never to tell nobody. It's Peggy's +own secret." + +[Illustration: 'And above the top of all the houses, clear though faint, +was now to be seen the outline of a range of hills, so softly gray-blue +in the distance that but for the irregular line never changing in its +form, one could easily have fancied it was only the edge of a quickly +passing ridge of clouds. Peggy, however, knew better. + +"See, Hal," she said, "over there, far, far away, _neely_ in the sky, +does you see that bluey hill?"'] + +Hal forgot his crossness in a minute; he felt so proud and honoured. +Peggy led him to the window. It was not a very pretty prospect; they +looked out on to a commonplace street, houses on both sides, though just +opposite there was a little variety in the shape of an old-fashioned, +smoke-dried garden. Beyond that again, more houses, more streets, +stretching away out into suburbs, and somewhere beyond all that again +the mysterious, beautiful, enchanting region which the children spoke +of and believed in as "the country," not really so far off after all, +though to them it seemed so. + +And above the tops of all the houses, clear though faint, was now to be +seen the outline of a range of hills, so softly gray-blue in the +distance that but for the irregular line never changing in its form, one +could easily have fancied it was only the edge of a quickly passing +ridge of clouds. Peggy, however, knew better. + +"See, Hal," she said, "over there, far, far away, _neely_ in the sky, +does you see that bluey hill?" + +Of course he saw, agreeing so readily that Peggy was sure he did not +distinguish rightly, which was soon proved to be the case by his +announcing that "The 'ill were sailing away." + +"No, no, it isn't," Peggy cried. "You've mustooked a cloud, Hal. See +now," and by bringing her own eyes exactly on a level with a certain +spot on the glass she was able to place his correctly, "just over that +little bubble in the window you can see it. Its top goes up above the +bubble and then down and then up again, and it never moves like the +clouds--does you see now, Hallie dear?" + +"Zes, zes," said Hal, "but it's a _wenny_ little 'ill, Peggy." + +"No, dear," his sister explained. "It only looks little 'cos it's so far +away. _You_ is too little to understand, dear, but it's true that it's a +big hill, neely a mounting, Hal. Mamma told me." + +"Oh," said Hal, profoundly impressed and quite convinced. + +"Mountings is _old_ hills, or big hills," Peggy continued, herself +slightly confused. "I don't know if they is the papas and mammas of the +little ones, but I think it's something like that, for onst in church I +heard the clergymunt read that the little hills jumped for joy, so they +must be the children. I'll ask mamma, and then I'll tell you. I'm not +quite sure if he meaned the same kind, for these hills never +jumps--that's how mamma told me to know they wasn't clouds." + +"Zes," said Hal, "but go on about the secret, Peggy. Hal doesn't care +about the 'ills." + +"But the secret's _on_ the hills," replied Peggy. "Look more, Hal--does +you see a teeny, _teeny_ white spot on the bluey hill? Higher up than +the bubble, but not at the top quite?" + +Hal's eyes were good and his faith was great. + +"Zes, zes," he cried. "I does see it--kite plain, Peggy." + +"Well, Hallie," Peggy continued, "_that's_ my secret." + +"Is it the fairy cottage, and is the little girl zere now?" Hal asked, +breathlessly. + +Peggy hesitated. + +"It is a white cottage," she said. "Mamma told me. She looked at it +through a seeing pipe." + +"What's a seeing pipe?" Hal interrupted. + +"I can't tell you just now. Ask mamma to show you hers some day. It's +too difficult to understand, but it makes you see things plain. And +mamma found out it was reelly a cottage, a white cottage, all alone up +on the hill--isn't it sweet of it to be there all alone, Hallie? And she +said I might think it was a fairy cottage and keep it for my own secret, +only I've telled you, Hal, and you mustn't tell nobody." + +"And is it all like Baby's best sash, and are there cakes and f'owers +and cows?" asked Hal. + +"I don't know. I made up the story, you know, Hal, to please you. I've +made lots--mamma said I might. But I've never see'd the cottage, you +know. I _daresay_ it's beautiful, white and gold like the story, that's +why I said it. It does so shine when the sun's on it--look, look, Hal!" + +For as she spoke the sunshine had broken out again more brilliantly; and +the bright, thin sparkle which often dazzles one between the showers in +unsettled weather, lighted up that quarter of the sky where the children +were gazing, and, to their fancy at least, the white spot caught and +reflected the rays. + +"Oh zes, I see," Hal repeated. "But, Peggy, I'd like to _go_ zere and to +see it. Can't we go, Peggy? It would be so nice, nicer than making up +stories. And do you think--oh do you think, Peggy, that p'raps there's +_pigs_ zere, real pigs?" + +He clasped his hands entreatingly as he spoke. Peggy must say there were +pigs. Poor Peggy--it was rather a comedown after her fairy visions. But +she was too kind to say anything to vex Hal. + +"I thought you said pigs was silly," she objected, gently. + +"Playing pigs to make Baby laugh is silly," said Hal, "and pigs going to +market and stayin' at 'ome and roast beefin', is _d'edful_ silly. But +not real pigs." + +"Oh well, then, _you_ may think pigs if you like," said Peggy. "I don't +think I will, but that doesn't matter. You may have them in the cottage +if you like, only you mustn't tell Thor and Terry and Baldwin about it." + +"I won't tell, on'y you _might_ have them too," said Hal discontentedly. +"You're not kind, Peggy." + +"Don't let's talk about the cottage any more, then," said Peggy, though +her own eyes were fixed on the far-off white spot as she spoke. "I think +p'raps, Hallie, you're _rather_ too little to care about it." + +"I'm not," said Hal, "and I do care. But I do like pigs, real pigs. I +sawed zem in the country." + +"You can't remember," said Peggy. "It's two whole years since we was in +the real country, Hallie, and you're only three and a half. I know it's +two years. I heard mamma say so to papa, so you wasn't two then." + +"But I did see zem and I do 'amember, 'cos of pictures," said Hal. + +"Oh yes, dear, there is pictures of pigs in your scrap-book, I know," +Peggy agreed. "You get it now and we'll look for them." + +Off trotted Hal, returning in a minute with his book, and for a quarter +of an hour or so his patient little sister managed to keep him happy and +amused. At the end of that time, however, he began to be cross and +discontented again. Peggy did not know what to make of him this morning, +he was not often so difficult to please. She was very glad when nurse +came in to say it was now _his_ time for his morning sleep, and though +Hal grumbled and scolded and said he was not sleepy she carried him off, +and Peggy was left in peace. + +She was not at a loss to employ herself. At half-past eleven she usually +went down to mamma for an hour's lessons, and it must be nearly that +time now. She got her books together and sat looking over the one verse +she had to learn, her thoughts roving nevertheless in the direction they +loved best--away over the chimneys and the smoke; away, away, up, up to +the fairy cottage on the distant hill. + + + + +CHAPTER III + +"THE CHILDREN AT THE BACK" + + "It seems to me if I'd money enough, + My heart would be made of different stuff; + I would think about those whose lot is rough." + MRS. HAWTREY. + + +THESE children's home was not in a very pretty place. In front, as I +have told you, it looked out on to a rather ugly street, and there were +streets and streets beyond that again--streets of straight, stiff, +grim-looking houses, some large and some small, but all commonplace and +dull. And in and out between these bigger streets were narrower and +still uglier ones, scarcely indeed to be called streets, so dark and +poky were they, so dark and poky were the poor houses they contained. + +The street immediately behind the children's house, that on to which its +back windows looked out, was one of these poorer ones, though not by any +means one of the most miserable. And ugly though it was, Peggy was very +fond of gazing out of the night nursery window on to this street, +especially on days when it was "no use," as she called it to herself, +looking out at the front; that meant, as I daresay you can guess, days +on which it was too dull and cloudy to see the distant hills, and above +all the white spot, which had taken such hold on her fancy. For she had +found out some very interesting things in that dingy street. Straight +across from the night nursery window was a very queer miserable sort of +a shop, kept by an old Irishwoman whose name was Mrs. Whelan. It is +rather absurd to call it a shop, though it was a place where things were +bought and sold, for the room in which these buyings and sellings went +on was Mrs. Whelan's kitchen, and bedroom, and sitting-room, and +wash-house, as well as her shop! It was on the first floor, and you got +up to it by a rickety staircase--more like a ladder indeed than a +staircase, and underneath it on the ground-floor lived a cobbler, with +whom Mrs. Whelan used to quarrel at least once a day, though as he was a +patient, much enduring man, the quarrels never went farther than the old +Irishwoman's opening her window and shouting down all manner of +scoldings to the poor fellow, of which he took no notice. + +[Illustration: "She was rather a terrible-looking old woman; she always +wore a short bed-gown, that is a loose kind of jacket roughly drawn in +at the waist, of washed out cotton, which never looked clean, and yet +somehow never seemed to get much dirtier, a black stuff petticoat, and a +cap with flapping frills which quite hid her face unless you were very +near her, and she was generally to be seen with a pipe in her mouth. Her +voice was both loud and shrill, and when she was in a temper you could +almost hear what she said, though the nursery window was shut." P. 35] + +On Sundays the cobbler used to tidy himself up and go off to church +"like a gentleman," the boys said. But Mrs. Whelan, alas, never tidied +herself up, and never went to church, and though she made a great show +of putting a shutter across that part of the window which showed "the +shop," nurse had more than once shaken her head when the children were +dressing for church, and told them not to look over the way, she was +sadly afraid the shutting or shuttering up was all a pretence, and that +Mrs. Whelan made a good penny by her Sunday sales of tobacco and pipes +to the men, or maybe of sugar, candles, or matches to careless +housekeepers who had let their stock run out too late on Saturday night. + +She was rather a terrible-looking old woman; she always wore a short +bed-gown, that is, a loose kind of jacket roughly drawn in at the waist, +of washed-out cotton, which never looked clean, and yet somehow never +seemed to get much dirtier, a black stuff petticoat, and a cap with +flapping frills which quite hid her face unless you were very near her, +and she was generally to be seen with a pipe in her mouth. Her voice was +both loud and shrill, and when she was in a temper you could almost hear +what she said, though the nursery window was shut. All the neighbours +were afraid of her, and in consequence treated her with great respect. +But like most people in this world, she had some good about her, as you +will hear. + +Good or bad, the children, Peggy especially, found Mrs. Whelan very +interesting. Peggy had never seen her nearer than from the window, and +though she had a queer sort of wish to visit the shop and make closer +acquaintance with the old crone, she was far too frightened of her to +think of doing so really. The boys, however, had been several times +inside Mrs. Whelan's dwelling, and used to tell wonderful stories of the +muddle of things it contained, and of the old woman herself. They always +bought their soap-bubble pipes there, "three a penny," and would gladly +have bought some of the toffee-balls and barley-sugar which were also to +be had, if this had not been strictly forbidden by mamma, in spite of +their grumbling. + +"It isn't so _very_ dirty, mamma," they said, "and you get a lot more +for a penny than in a proper shop." + +But mamma would not give in. She knew what Mrs. Whelan was like, as she +used sometimes to go over herself to talk to the poor old woman, but +that, of course, was a different matter. + +"I don't much like your going there at all," she would say, "but it +pleases her for us to buy some trifles now and then." + +But in her heart she wished very much that they were not obliged to live +in this dreary and ugly town, where their poor neighbours were rarely +the sort of people she could let her children know anything of. Mamma, +in _her_ childhood, had lived in that fairyland she called "the +country," and so had papa, and they still looked forward to being there +again, though for the present they were obliged to make the best of +their home in a dingy street. + +It seemed much less dull and dingy to the children than to them, +however. Indeed I don't think the children ever thought about it at all. +The boys were busy at school, and found plenty of both work and play to +make the time pass quickly, and Peggy, who might perhaps have been a +little dull and lonely in her rather shut-up life, had her fancies and +her wonders--her interesting things to look at both at the front and the +back of the house, and mamma to tell all about them to! And this reminds +me that I have not yet told you what it was she was _most_ fond of +watching from the night nursery window. It was not Mrs. Whelan or the +cobbler; it was the tenants of the third or top story of the rickety +old house--the family she always spoke of to herself as "the children at +the back." + +Such a lot of them there were. It was long before Peggy was able to +distinguish them "all from each other," as she said, and it took her +longer still to make names by which she could keep a clear list in her +head. The eldest looked to her quite grown-up, though in reality she was +about thirteen; she was a big red-cheeked girl, though she lived in a +town; her arms were red too, poor thing, especially in winter, for they +were seldom or never covered, and she seemed to be always at work, +scrubbing or washing, or running out to fetch two or three of the little +ones in from playing in the gutter. Peggy called her "Reddy," and though +it was the girl's red cheeks and arms which made her first choose the +name, in a while she came to think of it as meaning "ready" also, for +Peggy did not know much about spelling as yet, and the thought in her +mind of the look of the two words was the same. For a good while Peggy +fancied that Reddy was the nurse or servant of the family, but one day +when she said something of the kind to her own nurse she was quickly put +right. + +"Their servant, my dear! Bless you, no. How could they afford to keep a +servant; they've hard enough work to keep themselves, striving folk +though they seem. There's such a many of them, you see, and mostly so +little--save that big girl and the sister three below her, there's none +really to help the mother. And the cripple must be a great charge." + +"What's the cripple, nursey?" Peggy asked. + +"Why, Miss Peggy, haven't you noticed the white-faced girl on crutches? +You must have seen her dragging up and down in front of the house of a +fine day." + +"Oh yes," said Peggy, "but I didn't know that was called cripple. And +she's quite little; she's as little as me, nurse!" + +"She's older than she looks, poor thing," said nurse--"maybe oldest of +them all." + +This, however, Peggy could not believe. She fixed in her own mind that +"Crippley" came after the two boys who were evidently next to Reddy--she +did not give the boys names, for they did not interest her as much as +the girls. Having so many brothers of her own and no sister, it seemed +to her as if a sister must be the very nicest thing in the world, and of +all the children at the back, the two that she liked most to watch were +a pair of little girls about three years older than herself, whom she +named "The Smileys," "Brown Smiley" and "Light Smiley" when she thought +of them separately, for though they were very like each other, the +colour of their hair was different. They were very jolly little girls, +poorly clad and poorly fed though they were, taking life easily, it +seemed--too easily in the opinion of their eldest sister Reddy, and the +sister next above them--between them and Crippley, according to Peggy's +list. This sister was the only one whose real name Peggy knew, by +hearing it so frequently shouted after her by the mother and Reddy. For +this child, "Mary-Hann," was rather deaf, though it was not till long +afterwards that Peggy found this out. + +"Mary-Hann" was a patient stupid sort of girl, a kind of second in +command to Reddy, and she was like Reddy in appearance, except that she +was several sizes smaller and thinner, so that even supposing that her +arms were as red as her sister's they did not strike one in the same +way. + +Below the Smileys came another boy, who was generally to be seen in +their company, and who, according to Peggy, rejoiced in the name of +"Tip." And below Tip were a few babies, in reality I believe never more +than three, during the years through which their little over-the-way +neighbour watched them. But even she was obliged to give up hopes of +classifying the babies, for there always seemed to be _a_ baby about the +same age, and one or two others just struggling into standing or rather +tumbling alone, and for ever being picked up by Reddy or her attendant +sprite Mary-Hann. + +Such were Peggy's "children at the back." And many a dull day when it +was too rainy to go a walk, and too cloudy to be "any use" to gaze out +at the front of the house, did these poor children, little as they +guessed it, help to make pass more quickly and pleasantly for the +sisterless maiden. Many a morning when Hal and Baby were asleep and +nurse was glad to have an hour or so for a bit of ironing, or some work +of the kind down in the kitchen--for my Peggy's papa and mamma were not +rich and could not keep many servants, so that nurse, though she was +plain and homely in her ways, was of far more use than a smarter young +woman to them--many a morning did the little girl, left in the night +nursery in charge of her sleeping brothers, take up her stand at the +window which overlooked Mrs. Whelan's and the cobbler and the Smileys +with all their brothers and sisters. There was always something new to +see or to ask nurse to explain afterwards. For ever so long it took up +Peggy's thoughts, and gave much conversation in the nursery to "plan" +how the ten or eleven children, not to speak of the papa and mamma, +_could_ all find place in two rooms. It kept Peggy awake at night, +especially if the weather happened to be at all hot or close, to think +how _very_ uncomfortable poor Reddy and Crippley and Mary-Hann and the +Smileys must be, all sleeping in one bed as nurse said was too probably +the case. And it was the greatest relief to her mind, and to nurse's +too, I do believe, to discover by means of some cautious inquiries of +the cobbler when nurse took him over some of the boys' boots to mend, +that the family was not so short of space as they had feared. + +"They've two other rooms, Miss Peggy, as doesn't show to the front," +said nurse, "two attics with sloping windows in the roof to their back +again. And they're striving folk, he says, as indeed any one may see for +theirselves." + +"Then how shall we plan it now, I wonder," said Peggy, looking across to +the Smileys' mansion with new respect. But nurse had already left the +room, and perhaps, now she was satisfied their neighbours were not +quite so much to be pitied, would scarcely have had patience to listen +to Peggy's "wonderings" about them. So the little girl went on to +herself-- + +"I should think the downstairs room is the papa's and mamma's and the +teeniest baby's, and perhaps Crippley sleeps there, as she's ill, like +me when I had the hooping-cough and I couldn't sleep and mamma kept +jumping up to me. And then the big boys and Tip has one room--'ticks,' +nurse calls the rooms with windows in the roof. I think I'd like to +sleep in a 'tick' room; you must see the stars so plain without getting +up; and--and--let me see, Reddy and Mary-Hann and the Smileys and the +old babies--no, that's too many--and I don't know how many old babies +there is. We'll say _one_--if there's another it must be a boy and go in +the boys' tick--and that makes Reddy and Mary----" + +"Miss Peggy, your mamma's ready for your lessons," came the housemaid's +voice at the door, and Peggy hurried off. But she was rather in a brown +study at her lessons that morning. Mamma could not make her out at all, +till at last she shut up the books for a minute and made Peggy tell her +where her thoughts were wool-gathering. + +"Not so very far away, mamma dear," said Peggy, laughing. She never +could help laughing when mamma said "funny things like that." "Not so +very far away. I was only wondering about the children at the back." + +She called them always "the children at the back" when she spoke of +them--for even to mamma she would have felt shy of telling her own names +for them. And then she went on to repeat what nurse had heard from the +cobbler. Mamma agreed that it was very interesting, and she too was +pleased to think "the children at the back's house," as Peggy called it, +was more commodious than might have been expected. But still, even such +interesting things as that must not be allowed to interfere with +lessons, Peggy must put it all out of her head till they were done with, +and then mamma would talk about it with her. + +"Only, mamma," said Peggy, "I don't know what com--commo--that long word +you said, means." + +"I should not have used it, perhaps," said mamma. "And yet I don't know. +If we only used the words you understand already, you would never learn +new ones--eh, Peggy! Commodious just means large, and not narrow and +squeezed up." + +Peggy nodded her head, which meant that she quite understood, and then +the lessons went on smoothly again. + +When they were over, mamma talked about poor people, especially about +poor children, to Peggy, and explained to her more than she had ever +done before about what being poor really means. It made Peggy feel and +look rather sad, and once or twice mamma was afraid she was going to +cry, which, of course, she did not wish her to do. But Peggy choked down +the crying feeling, because she knew it would make her mother sorry and +would not do the poor people any good. + +"Mamma," she said, "it _neely_ makes me cry, but I won't. But when I'm +big can't I do something for the children at the back?" + +"They won't be children then, Peggy dear. You may be able to do +something for them without waiting for that. I'll think about it. I +don't fancy they are so _very_ poor. As I have been telling you, there +are many far poorer. But I daresay they have very few pleasures in their +lives. We might try to think of a little sunshine for them now and +then." + +"The Smile----" began Peggy, but she stopped suddenly, growing red--"the +littler ones do play a good deal in the gutter, mamma dear," she said, +anxious to state things quite fairly; "but I don't think that's _very_ +nice play, and the sun very seldom shines there. And Red--the big ones, +mamma dear, and the one that goes on--I can't remember the name of those +sticks." + +"Crutches," said mamma. + +"Yes, crutches--_her_ never has no plays at all, I don't think. She'd +have more sunshine at the 'nother side of our house, mamma dear." + +Mamma smiled. Peggy did not understand that mamma did not mean +"sunshine" exactly as she took it; she forgot, too, that of actual +sunshine more fell on the back street than she thought of. For it was +only on dull or rainy days that she looked out much on the children at +the back. On fine days her eyes were busy in another direction. + +"I'll think about it," said mamma. So Peggy for the present was +satisfied. + +This talk about the Smileys and the rest of them had been a day or two +before the morning on which we first saw Peggy--the morning that Thor +tried so to make fun of her about choosing sugar in her bread and milk, +because it was cold. Mamma had not said any more about the children at +the back, and this particular morning Peggy herself was not thinking +very much about them. Her head was running a good deal on the white +cottage and all her fancies about it, and she was feeling rather +disappointed that she had not succeeded better in amusing Hal by her +stories. + +"It must be, I suppose," she said to herself, "that he's rather too +little for that kind of fancy stories. I wonder if Baldwin would like +them; it would be nice to have somebody to make fancies with me." + +But somehow Baldwin and the fairy cottage did not seem to match. And +Thor and Terry were both much too big--Thor would laugh at her, and +Terry would think it a waste of time; he had so many other things to +amuse himself about. No, Peggy could not think of any one who would +"understand," she decided, with a sigh! + + + + +CHAPTER IV + +"REAL" FANCIES + + "Mine be a cot beside the hill." + SAMUEL ROGERS. + + +JUST then came the usual summons to her lessons. Mamma was waiting for +her little girl in the corner of the drawing-room, where she always sat +when she was teaching Peggy. It was a very nice corner, near the fire, +for though it was not winter it was rather chilly, and mamma often felt +cold. Thor used to tell her that she should take a good run or have a +game of cricket to warm her; it would be much better than sitting near +the fire. Peggy thought it was rather unkind of Thor to say so, but +mamma only laughed at him, so perhaps it was just his boy way of +speaking. + +Peggy said her lessons quite well, but she looked rather grave; no +smiles lighted up her face, and when lessons were over she sat still +without speaking, and seemed as if she scarcely knew what she wanted to +do with herself. + +"Is there anything the matter, dear?" mamma asked. + +"I'm rather tired, I think, mamma," Peggy replied. + +"Tired!" mamma repeated, in some surprise. It wasn't often that Peggy +talked of being tired. "What is that with? You've not been worrying +yourself about the children who live over Mrs. Whelan's, I hope? You +mustn't do that, you know, dear; it would do you harm and them no good." + +For mamma knew that Peggy sometimes did "worry" about things--"Once she +takes a thing in her head she'll work herself up so, for all she seems +so quiet," nurse would say. + +"No, mamma dear," Peggy replied; "I'm not tired because of that. I like +thinking about the children at the back. I wish----" + +"What?" said mamma. + +"I wish I'd sisters like them. I'm rather lonely, mamma. I do think God +might have gaved _one_ sister to Peggy, and not such a great lot to the +children at the back." + +"But you have your brothers, my dear little girl. You might have been an +only child." + +"The big ones is always neely at school, and Hal's too little to +understand. It's Hal that's tired me, mamma dear. He was so d'edfully +cross afore nurse put him to bed." + +"Cross, was he?" said mamma. "I'm afraid he must be getting those last +teeth. He may be cross for some time; if so, it would not do to leave +him." She seemed to be speaking to herself, but when she caught sight of +Peggy's puzzled face she stopped. "Tell me about Hal, dear," she went +on. "What was it that tired you so?" + +"I was trying to amuse him and tell him stories about my white cottage +up on the hill, and he was so cross. He couldn't understand, and he said +they was 'nonsense' stories." + +"He is too little, perhaps, to care for fancies," said her mother, +consolingly. "You must wait till he is a little older, Peggy dear." + +"But when he's older he'll be a _boy_, mamma," said Peggy; "he'll be +like Thor and Terry, who don't care for things like that, or Baldwin, +who thinks stories stupid. Oh, mamma, I wish I had a sister. _That's_ +what I want," she added, with conviction. + +Mamma smiled. + +"Poor Peggy," she said. "I'm afraid it can't be helped. You can never +have a sister near your own age, and I'm afraid a baby sister, even if +you had one, would be no good." + +"Oh no, we've had enough babies," said Peggy, decidedly. "But, mamma, +mightn't there be some little girl who'd play with me like a sister? If +there _is_ a fairy living in that cottage, mamma, how I do wish she +would find a little girl for me!" + +Mamma looked a very little bit troubled. + +"Peggy dear," she said, "you mustn't let your fancies run away with you +too far. I told you they would do you no harm if you kept plain in your +head that they _were_ fancies, but you mustn't forget that. You know +there couldn't really be a fairy living in that little white cottage." + +"No," Peggy agreed, "I know that, mamma, because fairies _really_ live +in fairyland." + +She looked up gravely into her mother's face as she said so. Mamma could +not help laughing. + +"Fairies _really_," she said, "live in Peggy's funny little head, and in +many other funny little heads, I have no doubt. But nowhere----" + +[Illustration: "Mama dear," she began, "will you tell me what the little +white house is reely like, then? If you will, I'll promise not to think +there's fairies there--only----" + +"Only what, dear?" + +"If you don't mind," said Peggy, very anxious not to hurt her mother's +feelings, "I'd _rather_ not have pigs. I don't think I like pigs very +much." + +P. 52] + +"Mamma, mamma," Peggy interrupted, putting her fingers in her ears as +she spoke, "I _won't_ listen. You mustn't, mustn't say that. I must have +my fairies, mamma. I've no sisters." + +"Well, keep them in fairyland then, or at least only let them out for +visits now and then. But don't mix them up with real things too much, or +you will get quite a confusion, and never be sure if you're awake or +dreaming." + +Peggy seemed to consider this over very seriously. After a minute or too +she lifted her face again, and looked straight into her mother's with +her earnest gray eyes. + +"Mamma dear," she began, "will you tell me what the little white house +is _reely_ like, then? If you will, I'll promise not to think there's +fairies there--only----" + +"Only what, dear?" + +"If you don't mind," said Peggy, very anxious not to hurt her mother's +feelings, "I'd _rather_ not have pigs. I don't think I like pigs very +much." + +"Well, we needn't have pigs then. But remember I can only 'fancy' it. +I've never seen that particular cottage, you see, Peggy. But I have seen +other cottages in Brackenshire, and so I can fancy what it _most likely_ +is. You see there are different kinds of fancying--there's fancying +that is all fancy, like fairy stories, and there's fancying that might +be true and real, and that very likely is true and real. Do you +understand?" + +"Yes," said Peggy, drawing a deep breath. "Well, mamma, go on +real-fancying, please. What's that place you've been at--Brat--what is +it?" + +"Brackenshire," mamma replied. "That's the name of that part of the +country that we see far off, from the windows upstairs." + +"And is all the cottages white there, and is they _very_ pretty?" asked +Peggy, with deep interest. "Oh, mamma, do tell me, quick." + +"I don't know if they're all white, but I think they are mostly. And +there are some pretty and some ugly. Of course it depends a good deal +upon the people that live in them. If they're nice, clean, busy people, +who like their house to be neat and pretty, and work hard to keep it so, +of course it's much more likely to be so than if they were careless and +lazy." + +"Oh," said Peggy, clasping her hands. "I do so hope my cottage has nice +people living in it. I _think_ it has, don't you, mamma? It looks _so_ +white." + +"My dear Peggy," said mamma, smiling, "we can't tell, when it's so far +away. But we may hope so." + +"Yes," said Peggy, "we'll hope so, and we'll think so." But then a +rather puzzled look came over her face again, though she smiled too. +"Mamma," she went on, "there's such a funny thing come into my head, +only I don't know quite how to say it. I think that the far-away helps +to make it pretty--why is far-away so pretty, mamma?" + +Mamma smiled again. + +"I'm afraid I can't tell you why. Wouldn't it spoil some things if we +knew the why of them, little Peggy?" + +Peggy did not answer. This was another new thought for her, and rather a +difficult one. She put it away in her mind, in one of the rather far +back cupboards there, and locked it up, to think about it afterwards. + +"Mamma," she said, coaxingly, "I want you to tell me a real fancy about +the cottage. It will be so nice when I look at it to think it's most +likely _reely_ like that." + +"Well, then, let us see," mamma began. + +"Wait just one minute, mamma dear, till I've shut my eyes. First I must +get the bluey hills and the white spot into them, and then I'll shut +them and see what you tell. Yes--that's all right now." + +So mamma went on. + +"I fancy a cottage on the side of a hill. The cottage is white, of +course, and the hill is green. Not very green--a kind of brown-green, +for the grass is short and close, nibbled by the sheep and cows that +find their living on the hill most of the year. The cottage is very +white, for last summer it had a nice wash all over, and that lasts clean +a good while in the country. There is a little low wall round it +shutting it in from the hillside, and this wall is not very white, +though it once was so, for it is covered with creeping plants, so that +you can scarcely see what its own colour is. At the front of the house +there is a little garden, quite a tiny one--there are potatoes and +gooseberry bushes and cabbages at one side, but in front of them are +some nice old-fashioned flowers, and at the other side there are +strawberry plants, and behind them some rose-bushes. In summer I am sure +there will be some pretty roses." + +"Oh how nice," said Peggy; "go on, go on, please." + +"There is a funny little wooden shed behind the house, leaning against +the wall, which has a door big enough for a child to go in by, or a big +person if they stooped down very much, and besides this it has a _very_ +little door in the wall, leading on to the hillside. Can you guess what +the shed is for, Peggy, and what the tiny door is for?" + +Peggy thought and thought, but her country knowledge was but scanty. + +"I can't think," she said. "It couldn't be for pigs, 'cos there isn't +any in the cottage. Nor it couldn't be for cows, 'cos cows is so big." + +"What should you say to cocks and hens, Peggy? There are to be fresh +eggs there, aren't there? And chickens sometimes. I rather think they +take eggs and chickens to market, don't they?" + +"Oh yes, I'm sure they do. How stupid I am! Of course the little wooden +house is for cocks and hens. You're making it lovelily, mamma. What is +it like inside, and who lives in it? I do so want to know." + +"Inside?" said mamma. "I'm almost afraid you might be disappointed, +Peggy, if you've never been in a real cottage. There are so many that +look very pretty outside and are not at all pretty inside. But at least +we may think it is neat and clean. There are only two rooms, Peggy--a +kitchen which you go straight into, and another room which opens out of +it. The kitchen is very bright and pleasant; there is a table before the +window with some flower-pots on it, in which both winter and summer +there are plants growing. There is a large cupboard of dark old wood +standing against the wall, and a sort of sofa that is called a settle +with cushions covered with red cotton, standing near the fireplace. +There are shelves, too, on which stand some dishes and two or three +shining pots and pans, the ugly black ones are kept in a little back +kitchen where most of the cooking is done, so that the front kitchen +should be kept as nice as possible." + +"That makes another room, mamma dear. You said there was only two." + +"Oh, but it's so very tiny you couldn't call it a room. The second room +is a bedroom, but the best pieces of furniture are kept there. There is +a nice chest of drawers and a rocking-chair, and there is a very funny +wooden cradle, standing right down on the floor, not at all like Baby's +cot. And in this cradle is a nice, fat, bright-eyed little baby." + +"A baby," said Peggy, doubtfully. + +"Yes, to be sure. There's always a baby in a cottage, unless you'd +rather have a very old couple whose babies are grown-up men and women, +out in the world." + +"No," said Peggy, "I don't want that. A very old woman in a cottage +would be _razer_ like a witch, or else it could make me think of Red +Riding-Hood's grandmother, and that is _so_ sad. No, I don't mind the +baby if it has a nice mamma--but only one baby, pelease, mamma dear. I +don't want _lots_, like the children at the back, they're always +tumbling about and sc'eaming so." + +"Oh no, we won't have it like that. We'll only have one baby--a very +contented nice baby, and its mamma is very nice too. She's got quite a +pretty rosy face, and she stands at the door every morning to see her +husband go off to his work, and every evening to watch for him coming +back again, and she holds the baby up in her arms and it laughs and +crows." + +"Yes," said Peggy, "that'll do. And the eggs and the chickens, mamma?" + +"Oh yes, she takes great care of the cocks and hens, and never forgets +to go outside the garden to feed them on the hill, and in the evening +they all come home of themselves through the little door in the wall. +There's a very nice cat in the cottage too; it sits purring on the +front steps on fine days, as if it thought the cottage and garden and +everything else belonged to it. And----" + +But suddenly the clock struck. Up started mamma. + +"Peggy, darling, I had no idea it was so late. And I have to go out the +moment after luncheon, and I have still two letters to write. I am a +greater baby than any of you! Run off, dear, and tell nurse I want to +speak to her before I go out." + +"And to-morrow," said Peggy, "to-morrow, will you tell me some more +about the white cottage, mamma? It _is_ so nice--I don't think you're a +baby at all, mamma. A baby couldn't make it up so lovelily." + +And Peggy set off upstairs in great content. The white spot would give +her more pleasure than ever, now that she knew what sort of _real_ +fancies to have about it. + +"And to-morrow," she said to herself, "to-morrow mamma will tell me +more, lots more. If I say my lessons very goodly, p'raps mamma will tell +me some more every day. And p'raps Hallie would like those kinds better +than about fairies, and wouldn't call _them_ nonsense stories." + +Poor little Peggy--"to-morrow" brought news which put her pretty fancies +about the white cottage out of her head for a while. + +She gave her mother's message to nurse, and after dinner nurse went +downstairs. When she came up again she looked rather grave, and Peggy +thought perhaps she was unhappy about Hal, who was still cross and had +bright red spots on his cheeks. + +"Does you think poor Hallie is ill, nurse?" asked Peggy in a low voice, +for Hal not to hear. + +"No, my dear, it's only his teeth. But they'll make him fractious for a +while, I'm afraid, and he's not a very strong child, not near so strong +as Baby and the big boys." + +"Poor Hallie," said Peggy, with great sympathy. "I'll be very good to +him even if he is very cross, nurse." + +Nurse did not answer for a minute, and she still looked very grave. + +"Why do you look so sad, nurse, if it isn't about Hal?" asked Peggy, +impatiently. + +"Did I look sad, Miss Peggy? I didn't know it. I was thinking about some +things your mamma was speaking of to me." + +"Oh!" said Peggy, "was it about our new frocks? Mamma and you is always +very busy when we need new frocks, I know." + +"Yes, dear," said nurse, but that was all. + +Then Peggy and Hal and nurse and Baby went out for a walk. They did not +go very far, for it was what nurse called a queer-tempered day. Between +the gleams of blue sky and sunshine there came sharp little storms and +showers. It was April weather, though April had not yet begun. + +"Which way are we going?" Peggy asked, as they set off, she and Hal +hand-in-hand, just in front of nurse and the perambulator. She _hoped_ +nurse would say "up Fernley Road," because Fernley Road led straight on +towards the hills--so at least it seemed to Peggy. Their street ran into +Fernley Road at one end, so that Fernley Road was what is called at +right angles with it, and Peggy felt sure that if you walked far enough +along the road you _could_ not but come to "the beginning of the hills." + +But to-day Peggy was to be disappointed. + +"We can't go far, Miss Peggy, and we must go to Field's about Master +Hal's new boots. It looks as if it might rain, so perhaps we'd better go +straight there. You know the way, Miss Peggy?--right on to the end of +this street and then turn to the left." + +Peggy gave a little sigh, but trotted on quietly. Hal began grumbling. + +"What is I to have new boots for?" he said. "I doesn't want new boots." + +"Oh, Hal," said Peggy, "I think it's very nice indeed to have new boots. +They shine so, and sometimes they do make such a lovely squeaking." + +But Hal wasn't in a humour to be pleased with anything, so Peggy tried +to change the subject. + +"Nurse says we are to turn to the left at the end of this street," she +said. "Does you know which is the left, Hal? _I_ do, 'cos of my pocket +in my frock. First I feel for my pocket, and when it's there I say 'all +right,' and then I know that's the right, and when it isn't there I +_can't_ say 'all right,' and so I know the side it isn't at is the +left." + +Hal listened with some interest, but a slight tinge of contempt for +feminine garments. + +"Boys has pockets at each sides, so all boys' sides is right," he said. + +But Peggy was by this time in the midst of her researches for her +pocket, so she did not argue the point. + +"Here it is!" she exclaimed, "all right, so the nother side is left. +_This_ way, Hallie," and very proud to show nurse that she had +understood her directions, she led her little brother down the street +into which they had now turned. + +There were shops in this street, which made it more amusing than the one +in which the children lived, even though they had seen them so often +that they knew pretty well all that was worth looking at in the +windows--that is to say, in the picture-shops and the toy-shops, and +perhaps in the confectioner's. All others were passed by as a matter of +course. Field's, the shoemaker's, was not quite so stupid as some, +because under a glass shade, in the midst of all the real boots and +shoes, were half a dozen pairs of dolls' ones, which Peggy thought quite +lovely, though apparently no one else was of her opinion, as the tiny +things stayed there day after day without a single pair being sold. +Peggy herself could remember them for what seemed to her a very long +time, and Baldwin, who owned to having admired them when he was +"little," assured her they had been there since she was quite a baby; he +could remember having "run on" to look at them in the days when he and +Terry had trotted in front and nurse had perambulated Peggy behind. + +The little boots and shoes came into Peggy's mind just now, partly +perhaps because Hal was hanging back so, and she was afraid he would be +cross if she asked him to walk quicker. + +"Let's run on and look at the tiny shoes in Field's window," she said. +"We can wait there till nurse comes up to us. She'll see us." + +This roused Hal to bestir himself, and they were soon at the +shoemaker's. + +"_Isn't_ they sweet?" said Peggy. "If I had a gold pound of my very own, +Hal, I'd buy some of them." + +"Would you?" said Hal, doubtfully. "No, if _I_ had a gold pound I'd----" + +But just then nurse came up to them and they were all marched into the +shop. + + + + +CHAPTER V + +THE LITTLE RED SHOES + + "Pif-paf Pottrie, what trade are you? Are you a tailor?" + "Better still!" "A shoemaker?" + BROTHERS GRIMM. + + +THERE was another reason why the children liked Field's shop. At the +back of it was a sort of little room railed off by a low wooden +partition with curtains at the top, into which customers were shown to +try on and be fitted with new boots or shoes. This little room within a +room had always greatly taken Peggy's fancy; she had often talked it +over with her brothers, and wished they could copy it in their nursery. +Inside it had comfortable cushioned seats all round, making it look like +one of the large, square, cushioned pews still to be found in some old +churches, pews which all children who have ever sat in them dearly love. + +There was always some excitement in peeping into this little room to +see if any one was already there; if that were the case the children +knew they should have to be "tried on" in the outer shop. To-day, +however, there was no doubt about the matter--Miss Field, who acted as +her father's shop-woman, marshalled them all straight into the curtained +recess without delay; there was no one there--and when Peggy and Hal had +with some difficulty twisted themselves on to the seats with as much +formality as if they were settling themselves in church, and nurse had +explained what they had come for, the girl began operations by taking +off one of Hal's boots to serve as a pattern for his size. + +"The same make as these, I suppose?" she asked. + +"No, miss, a little thicker, I think. They're to be good strong ones for +country wear," said nurse. + +Peggy looked up with surprise. + +"For the country, nursie," she said. "He'll have weared them out before +it's time for us to go to the country. It won't be summer for a long +while, and last year we didn't go even when summer comed." + +Nurse looked a little vexed. Miss Field, though smiling and +good-natured, was not a special favourite of nurse's; she was too fond +of talking, and she stood there now looking very much amused at Peggy's +remonstrance. + +"If you didn't go to the country last year, Miss Margaret," said nurse, +"more reason that you'll go this. But little girls can't know +everything." + +Peggy opened her eyes and her mouth. She was just going to ask nurse +what was the matter, which would not have made things better, I am +afraid, when Baby changed the subject by bursting out crying. Poor +Baby--he did not like the little curtained-off room at all; it was +rather dark, and he felt frightened, and as was of course the most +sensible thing to do under the circumstances, as he could not speak, he +cried. + +"Dear, dear," said nurse, after vainly trying to soothe him, "he doesn't +like being in here, the poor lamb. He's frightened. I'll never get him +quiet here. Miss Peggy, love," forgetting in her hurry the presence of +Miss Field, for before strangers Peggy was always "Miss Margaret," with +nurse, "I'll have to put him back in his perambulator at the door, and +if you'll stand beside him he'll be quite content." + +[Illustration: "Baby did not interrupt her; he was quite content now he +was out in the light and the open air, and amused himself after his own +fashion by crowing and chuckling to the passers-by. So Peggy stood +still, her eyes fixed on the baby shoes. They were of all colours, black +and red and bronze and blue--it was difficult to say which was the +prettiest." p.p. 68-69] + +And nurse got up as she spoke. Peggy slid herself down slowly and +reluctantly from her seat; she would have liked to stay and watch Hal +being fitted with boots, and she would have liked still more to ask +nurse what she meant by speaking of the country so long before the time, +but it was Peggy's habit to do what she was told without delay, and she +knew she could ask nurse what she wanted afterwards. So with one +regretful look back at the snug corner where Hal was sitting comfortably +staring at his stockinged toes, she trotted across the shop to the door +where Baby, quite restored to good humour, was being settled in his +carriage. + +"There now, he'll be quite happy. Nurse will come soon, dear. Just let +him stay here in the doorway; he can see all the boots and shoes in the +window--that will amuse him." + +"Yes," said Peggy, adding in her own mind that she would have a good +look at the dear, tiny dolls' ones and fix which she would like to buy +if she had the money. + +Baby did not interrupt her; he was quite content now he was out in the +light and the open air, and amused himself after his own fashion by +crowing and chuckling to the passers-by. So Peggy stood still, her eyes +fixed on the baby shoes. They were of all colours, black and red and +bronze and blue--it was difficult to say which were the prettiest. +Peggy had almost decided upon a red pair, and was wondering how much +money it would take to buy them, when some one touched her on the +shoulder. She looked up; a lady was standing behind her, smiling in +amusement. + +"What are you gazing at so, my dear? Is this your baby in the +perambulator? You had better wheel him a little bit farther back, or may +I do so for you?--he has worked himself too far into the doorway." + +Peggy looked up questioningly in the lady's face. Like many children she +did not like being spoken to by strangers in any unceremonious way; she +felt as if it were rather a freedom. + +But the face that met hers was too kind and bright and pleasant to +resist, and though Peggy still looked grave, it was only that she felt +rather shy. + +"Yes," she said, "he's our baby. I was looking at those sweet little +shoes. I didn't see Baby had pushed hisself away. Thank you," as the +lady gently moved the perambulator a little farther to one side. + +"You and Baby are not alone? Are you waiting for some one?" she asked. + +"Nurse is having Hal tried on for new boots," Peggy replied, "and Baby +didn't like the shop 'cos it were rather dark." + +"And so his kind little sister is taking care of him. I see," said the +lady. "And what are the sweet little shoes you like so much to look at? +Are they some that would fit Baby?" + +"Oh no," said Peggy, "they'd be too little for him. Baby _is_ rather +fat. Oh no, it's _those_ under the glass basin turned upside down," and +she pointed to the dolls' shoes. "Aren't they lovely? I've seen them +ever since I was quite little--I suppose they'd cost a great lot," and +Peggy sighed. + +"Which do you think the prettiest?" asked the lady. + +"The red ones," Peggy replied. + +"Well, I almost think I agree with you," said the lady. "Good-bye, my +dear, don't let Baby run himself out into the street." And with a kind +smile she went on into the shop. + +She passed back again in a few minutes. + +"Still there?" she said, nodding to Peggy, and then she made her way +down the street and was soon out of sight. Peggy's attention, since the +lady had warned her, had been entirely given to Baby, otherwise she +might perhaps have noticed a very wonderful thing that had happened in +the shop-window. The pair of red dolls' shoes was no longer there! They +had been quietly withdrawn from the case in which they, with their +companions, had spent a peaceful, but it must be allowed a rather dull +life for some years. + +In another minute nurse and Hal made their appearance, and Hal had a +parcel, which he was clutching tightly in both hands. + +"My new boots is _so_ shiny," he said, "I do so hope they'll squeak. +Does you think they will, nursie? But isn't poor Peggy to have new +boots, too? _Poor_ Peggy!" + +Peggy looked down at her feet. + +"Mine isn't wored out yet," she said; "it would take all poor mamma's +money to buy new boots for us _all_." + +"Never fear," said nurse, who heard rather a martyr tone in Peggy's +voice, "you'll not be forgotten, Miss Peggy. But Master Hal, hadn't you +better put your boots in the perambulator? You'll be tired of carrying +them, for we're not going straight home." + +Hal looked as if he were going to grumble at this, but before he had +time to say anything, Miss Field came hurrying out of the shop. + +"Oh, you're still here," she said; "that's all right. The lady who's +just left told father to give this little parcel to missie here," and +she held out something to Peggy, who was so astonished that for a moment +or two she only stared at the girl without offering to take the tiny +packet. + +"For me," she said at last. + +"Yes, missie, to be sure--for you, as I say." + +Peggy took the parcel, and began slowly to undo it. Something red peeped +out--Peggy's eyes glistened--then her cheeks grew nearly as scarlet as +the contents of the packet, and she seemed to gasp for breath, as she +held out for Hal and nurse to see the little red shoes which five +minutes before she had been admiring under the glass shade. + +"Nursie, Hal," she exclaimed, "see, oh see! The sweet little shoes--for +me--for my very own." + +Nurse was only too ready to be pleased, but with the prudence of a +"grown-up" person she hesitated a moment. + +"Are you sure there's no mistake, miss?" she said, anxiously. "Do you +know the lady's name? Is she a friend of Missis's, I wonder?" + +The girl shook her head. + +"Can't say, I'm sure," she replied. "She's a stranger to us. She only +just bought a pair of cork soles and these here. There's no mistake, +that, I'm sure of. She must have seen the young lady was admiring of +them." + +"Yes," said Peggy, "she asked me which was the prettiest, and I said the +red ones." + +"You see?" said Miss Field to nurse. "Well, missie, I hope as they'll +fit Miss Dolly, and then you'll give us your custom when they're worn +out, won't you?" + +And with a good-natured laugh she turned back into the shop. + +"It's all right, nursie, isn't it? Do say it is. I may keep them; they +_is_ mine, isn't they?" said Peggy, in very unusual excitement. + +Nurse still looked undecided. + +"I don't quite know what to say, my dear," she replied. "We must ask +your mamma. I shouldn't think she'd object, seeing as it was so kindly +meant. And we can't give back the shoes now they're bought and paid for. +It wouldn't be fair to the lady to give them back to Field just to be +sold again. It wasn't _him_ she wanted to give a present to." + +"No," said Peggy, trotting along beside the perambulator and clasping +her little parcel as Hal was clasping his bigger one, "it was _me_ she +wanted to please. She's a _very_ kind lady, isn't she, nursie? I'm sure +they cost a great lot of money--p'raps a pound. Oh! I do so hope mamma +will say I may keep them for my very own. Can't we go home now this +minute to ask her?" + +"We shouldn't find her in if we did," said nurse, "and we've had nothing +of a walk so far. But don't you worry, Miss Peggy. I'm sure your mamma +will not mind." + +Peggy's anxious eager little face calmed down at this; a corner of the +paper in which her treasures were wrapped up was torn. She saw the +scarlet leather peeping out, and a gleam of delight danced out of her +eyes; she bent her head down and kissed the speck of bright colour +ecstatically, murmuring to herself as she did so, "Oh, how happy I am!" + +Nurse overheard the words. + +"Missis will never have the heart to take them from her, poor dear," she +thought. "She'll be only too pleased for Miss Peggy to have something to +cheer her up when she has to be told about our going." + +And Peggy, in blissful ignorance of any threatening cloud to spoil her +pleasure, marched on, scarcely feeling the ground beneath her feet; as +happy as if the tiny red shoes had been a pair of fairy ones to fit her +own little feet. + +Mamma was not at home when they got in, even though they made a pretty +long round, coming back by Fernley Road, which, however, Peggy did not +care about as much as when they set off by it. For coming back, of +course she could not see the hills without turning round, nor could she +have the feeling that every step was taking her nearer to them. The +weather was clearing when they came in; from the nursery window the sky +towards the west had a faint flush upon it, which looked as if the +sunset were going to be a rosy one. + +"Red at night," Peggy said to herself as she glanced out; "nursie, that +means a fine day, doesn't it?" + +"So they say," nurse replied. + +"Then it'll be a fine day to-morrow, and I'll see the cottage, and I'll +put the little shoes on the window-sill, so that they shall see it +too--the _dear_ little sweets," chattered the child to herself. + +Hal meanwhile was seated on the floor, engaged in a more practical way, +namely, _trying_ to try on his new boots. But "new boots," as he said +himself, "is stiff." Hal pulled and tugged till he grew very red in the +face, but all in vain. + +"Oh, Peggy!" he said, "do help me. I does so want to hear them squeak, +and to 'upprise the boys when they come in." + +Down went kind Peggy on the floor, and thanks to her the boots were got +on, though the buttoning of them was beyond her skill. Hal was quite +happy, though. + +"They do squeak, don't they, Peggy?" he said; "and nurse'll let me wear +them a little for them to get used to my feet 'afore we go to the +country." + +"You mean for your feet to get used to them, Hallie," said Peggy. "But +there's lots of time for that. Why, they'll be half wored out before we +go to the country if you begin them now." + +"'Tisn't nonsense," said Hal, sturdily. "Nurse said so to that girl in +the shop." + +Peggy felt very puzzled. + +"But, Hal," she was beginning, when a voice interrupted her. It was +nurse. She had been downstairs, having heard the front door bell ring. + +"Miss Peggy, your mamma wants you. She's come in. You'll find her in her +own room." + +"Nursie," she said, "Hal's been saying----" + +"You mustn't keep your mamma waiting," said nurse. "I've told her about +the little shoes." + +"I'll take them to show her--won't she be pleased?" said Peggy, seizing +the little parcel which she had put down while helping Hal. + +And off she set. + +She stopped at her mother's door; it was only half shut, so she did not +need to knock. + +"Mamma dear, it's me--Peggy," she said. + +"Come in, darling," mamma's voice replied. + +"I've brought you the _sweet_ little red shoes to see," said Peggy, +carefully unfolding the paper which held her treasures, and holding them +out for mamma's admiration. + +"They are very pretty indeed--really lovely little shoes," she said, +handling them with care, but so as to see them thoroughly. "It was +_very_ kind of that lady. I wonder who she was? Of course in a general +way I wouldn't like you to take presents from strangers, but she must +have done it in such a very nice way. Was she an old lady, Peggy?" + +"Oh yes!" said Peggy, "quite old. She was neely as big as you, mamma +dear. I daresay she's _neely_ as old as you are." + +Mamma began to laugh. + +"You little goose," she said. But Peggy didn't see anything to laugh at +in what she had said, and her face remained quite sober. + +"I don't understand you, mamma dear," she said. + +"Well, listen then; didn't Hal buy a pair of new boots for himself +to-day?" mamma began. + +"No, mamma dear. Nurse buyed them _for_ he," Peggy replied. + +"Or rather _I_ bought them, for it was my money nurse paid for them +with, if you are so very precise, Miss Peggy. But never mind about that. +All I want you to understand is the difference between 'big' and 'old.' +Hal's boots are much bigger than these tiny things, but they are not on +that account _older_." + +Peggy began to laugh. + +"No, mamma dear. P'raps Hallie's boots is younger than my sweet little +red shoes, for they has been a great long while in the shop window, and +Baldwin and Terry sawed them when they was little." + +"Not 'younger,' Peggy dear; 'newer,' you mean. Boots aren't alive. You +only speak of live things as 'young.'" + +Peggy sighed. + +"It is rather difficult to understand, mamma dear." + +"It will all come by degrees," said mamma. "When I was a little girl I +know I thought for a long time that the moon was the mamma of the stars, +because she looked so much bigger." + +"I think that's very nice, mamma, though, of course, I understand it's +only a _fancy_ fancy. I haven't seen the moon for a long time, mamma. +May I ask nurse to wake me up the next time the moon comes?" + +"You needn't wait till dark to see the moon," said mamma. "She can often +be seen by daylight, though, of course, she doesn't look so pretty then, +as in the dark sky which shows her off better. But, of course, the sky +here is so often dull with the smoke of the town that we can't see her +as clearly in the daytime as where the air is purer." + +"Like in the country, mamma," said Peggy. "It's _always_ clear in the +country, isn't it?" + +"Not quite always," said mamma, smiling. "But, Peggy dear, speaking of +the country----" + +"Oh yes!" Peggy interrupted, "I want to tell you, mamma, what a silly +thing Hallie _would_ say about going to the country;" and she told her +mother all that Hal had said about his boots, and indeed what nurse had +said too; "and nursie was just a weeay, teeny bit cross to me, mamma +dear," said Peggy, plaintively. "She wouldn't say she'd mistooked about +it." + +Mamma looked rather grave, and instead of saying at once that of course +nurse had only meant that Hal's boots should last till the summer, she +took Peggy on her knee and kissed her--kissed her in rather a "funny" +way, thought Peggy, so that she looked up and said-- + +"Mamma dear, why do you kiss me like that?" + +Instead of answering, mamma kissed her again, which almost made Peggy +laugh. + +But mamma was not laughing. + +"My own little Peggy," she said, "I have something to tell you which I +am afraid will make you unhappy. It is making _me_ very unhappy, I +know." + +"Poor dear little mamma," said Peggy, and as she spoke she put up her +little hand and stroked her mother's face. "Don't be unhappy if it isn't +anything _very_ bad. Tell Peggy about it, mamma dear." + + + + +CHAPTER VI + +FELLOW-FEELINGS AND SLIPPERS + + "If I'd as much money as I could tell + I never would cry 'old clothes to sell'!" + _London Cries._ + + +MAMMA hesitated a moment. Then she began. + +"You know, Peggy, my pet," she said, "for a good while now I haven't +been as strong and well as I used to be----" + +"Stop, mamma, stop," said Peggy, with a sort of cry, and as she spoke +she threw up her hands and pressed them hard against her ears; "I know +what you're going to say, but I can't bear it, no, I can't. Oh mamma, +you're not to say you're going to die." + +For all answer mamma caught Peggy into her arms and kissed her again and +again. For a minute or two it seemed as if she could not speak, but at +last she got her voice. And then, rather to Peggy's surprise, she saw +that although there were tears in mamma's eyes, and even one or two +trickling down her face, she was smiling too. + +"My darling Peggy," she said, "did I frighten you? I am so, so sorry. Oh +no, darling, it is nothing like that. Please God I shall live to see my +Peggy as old as I am now, and older, I hope. No, no, dear, it is nothing +so very sad I was going to tell you. It is only that the doctor says the +best way for me to get quite well and strong again is to go away for a +while to have change of air as it is called, in some nice country +place." + +"In the country," said Peggy, her eyes brightening with pleasure. "Oh, +how nice! will it perhaps be that country where my cottage is? Oh, dear +mamma, how lovely! And when are we to go? May we begin packing to-day? +And how could you think it would make me unhappy----" she went on, +suddenly remembering what her mother had said at first. + +Mamma's face did not brighten up at all. + +"Peggy dear, it is very hard for me to tell you," she said. "Of course, +if we had all been going together it would have been only happy. But +that's just the thing. I can't take you with me, my sweet. Baby must go, +because nurse must, and Hallie too. But the friend I am going to stay +with can't have more of us than the two little ones, and nurse, and +me--it is very, very good of her to take so many." + +"Couldn't I sleep with you, mamma dear?" said Peggy in a queer little +voice, the tone of which went to mamma's heart. + +"My pet, Hallie must sleep with me, as it is. My friend's house isn't +very big. And there's another reason why I can't take you--I'm not sure +if you could understand----" + +"Tell it me, please, mamma." + +"The lady I am going to had a little girl just like you--I mean just the +same age, and rather like you altogether, I think. And the poor little +girl died two years ago, Peggy. Since then it is a pain to her mother to +see other little girls. When you are bigger and not so like what her +little girl was, I daresay she won't mind." + +Peggy had been listening, her whole soul in her eyes. + +"I understand," she said. "I wouldn't like to go if it would make that +lady cry--if it hadn't been for that--oh mamma, I could have squeezed +myself up so very tight in the bed! You and Hallie wouldn't have knowed +I were there. But I wouldn't like to make her cry. I am so sorry about +that little girl. Mamma, how is it that dying is so nice, about going to +heaven, you know, and _still_ it is so sorry?" + +"There is the parting," said mamma. + +"Yes--that must be it. And, mamma, I hope it isn't naughty, but if you +were to die I'd be _very_ sorry not to see you again just the same--even +if you were to be a very pretty angel, with shiny clothes and all that, +I'd want you to be my own old mamma." + +"I would be your own old mamma, dear. I am sure you would feel I was the +same." + +"I'm so glad," said Peggy. "Still it is sad to die," and she sighed. +"Mamma dear, you won't be very long away, will you? It'll only be a +little short parting, won't it?" + +"Only a few weeks, dear. And I hope you won't be unhappy even though you +must be a little lonely." + +"If only I had a sister," said Peggy. + +But mamma went on to tell her all she had planned. Miss Earnshaw, a +dressmaker who used sometimes to come and sew, was to be with Peggy as +much as she could. She was a gentle nice girl, and Peggy liked her. + +"She has several things to make for me just now," said mamma, "and as +she lives near, she will try to come every day, so that she will be with +you at dinner and tea. And Fanny will help you to dress and undress, and +either she or Miss Earnshaw will take you a walk every day that it is +fine enough. And then in the evenings, of course, the boys will be at +home, and papa will see you every morning before he goes." + +"And I daresay he'll come up to see me in bed at night too," said Peggy. +Then she was silent for a minute or two; the truth was, I think, that +she was trying hard to swallow down a lump in her throat that _would_ +come, and to blink away two or three tiresome tears that kept creeping +up to her eyes. + +Two days later and they were gone. Mamma, nurse, Hal, and Baby, with +papa to see them off, and two boxes outside the cab, and of course a +whole lot of smaller packages inside. + +Peggy stood at the front-door, nodding and kissing her hand and making a +smile, as broad a one as she possibly could, to show that she was not +crying. + +When they were gone, really gone, and Fanny had shut the door, she +turned kindly to Peggy. + +"Now, Miss Peggy, love, what will you do? Miss Earnshaw won't be here +till to-morrow. I'll try to be ready so as to take you out this +afternoon if it's fine, for it's not a half-holiday. It'd be very dull +for you all day alone--to-morrow the young gentlemen will be at home as +it's Saturday." + +A bright idea struck Peggy. + +"Fanny," she said, "did mamma or nurse say anything about soap-bubbles?" + +Fanny shook her head. + +"No, miss. But I'm sure there'd be no objection to your playing at them +if you liked. I can easy get a little basin and some soap and water for +you. But have you a pipe?" + +Peggy shook her head. + +"It isn't for me, Fanny, thank you," she said. "It's for my brothers +most. I'd like to make a surprise for them while mamma's away." + +"Yes, that would be very nice," said Fanny, who had been charged at all +costs to make Peggy happy. "We'll talk about it. But I'd better get on +with my work, so as to get out a bit this afternoon." + +"Very well. I'll go up to the nursery," said the little girl. + +The nursery seemed very strange. Peggy had never seen it look quite so +empty. Not only were nurse and the little ones gone, but it seemed as +if everything belonging to them had gone too, for nurse had sat up late +the night before and got up very early this same morning to put +everything into perfect order before leaving. The tidiness was quite +unnatural. Peggy sat down in a corner and gave a deep sigh. Just then +she did not even care to turn to the window, where the sunshine was +pouring in brightly, sparkling on the two little scarlet shoes, standing +side by side on the sill, where Peggy placed them every fine morning, +that they might enjoy the sight of the white cottage on the hill! + +"I almost wish it was raining," she half whispered to herself, till she +remembered how very disagreeable a wet day would have been for mamma and +the others to travel on. "I hope it will be a sunny day when they come +back," she added, as a sort of make-up for her forgetfulness. + +And then she got up and wandered into the other room. Here one of Hal's +old shoes, which had fallen out of a bundle of things to be given away +which nurse had taken downstairs just before going, was lying on the +floor. Peggy stooped and picked it up. How well she knew the look of +Hal's shoes; there was the round bump of his big toe, and the hole at +the corner where a bit of his red sock used to peep out! It gave her a +strange dreamy feeling as she looked at it. It seemed as if it could not +be true that Hallie was far away--"far, far away" by this time, thought +Peggy, for she always felt as if the moment people were in the railway +they were whizzed off hundreds of miles in an instant. She stroked the +poor old shoe lovingly and kissed it. I don't think just then she would +have parted with it for anything; it would have cost her less to give +away the lovely little scarlet ones. + +The thought of the old clothes turned her mind to the children at the +back. + +"I wonder if nurse gave them any of Hal's and Baby's old things," she +said to herself. + +And she went to the window with a vague idea of looking to see. She had +not watched the Smileys or their relations much for some days; she had +been busy helping mamma and nurse in various little ways, and her mind +had been very full of the going away. She almost felt as if she had +neglected her opposite neighbours, though, of course, they knew nothing +about it, and she was quite pleased to see them all there as usual, or +even more than usual. For it was so fine a day that Reddy and her +mother were evidently having a grand turn-out--a sort of spring +cleaning, I suppose. + +Small pieces of carpet, and one or two mats, much the worse for wear, +were hanging out at the open windows. Reddy's head, tied up in a cloth +to keep the dust out of her hair, was to be seen every minute or two, as +she thumped about with a long broom, and Mary-Hann presently appeared +with a pail of soapy water which she emptied at a grid in the gutter. +Mary-Hann looked rather depressed, but Reddy's spirits were fully equal +to the occasion. Had the window been open, Peggy felt sure she would +have been able to hear her shouting to her sister to "look sharp," or to +"mind what she was about," even more vigorously than usual. + +The rest of the family, excepting, of course, the boys, were assembled +on the pavement in front of Mr. Crick the cobbler's shop. He too had +opened his window to enjoy the fine day, and in the background he could +be dimly seen working, as dingy and leathery as ever. Mrs. Whelan's +frilled cap and pipe looked out for a moment and then disappeared again. +Apparently just then there was nobody or nothing she _could_ scold. + +For the poor children on the pavement were behaving very quietly. The +Smileys had stayed at home from school to mind the babies, with a view +to smoothing the way for the spring cleaning, no doubt, and were +sitting, each with a child on her lap, in two little old chairs they had +carried down. Crippley was rocking herself gently in her chair beside +them, and the last baby but two, as Peggy then thought, was on his knees +on the ground, amusing himself with two or three oyster shells and a few +marbles. All these particulars Peggy, from her high-up nursery window, +could not, of course, see clearly, but she saw enough to make her sigh +deeply as she thought that after all, the Smileys were much to be +envied. + +"I daresay they're telling theirselves stories," she said to herself. +"They look so comfable." + +Just then the big baby happened to come more in sight, and she saw that +one of the things he was playing with was a little shoe--an odd one +apparently. He had filled it with marbles, and was pulling it across the +stones. Up jumped Peggy from her seat on the window-sill. + +"Oh!" she exclaimed, though there was no one to hear, "it must be the +nother shoe of this. What a pity! They'd do for Tip, and p'raps they've +thought there wasn't a nother. How I would like to take it them! I'll +call Fanny and see if she'll run across with it." + +Downstairs she went, calling Fanny from time to time as she journeyed. +But no Fanny replied; she was down in the kitchen, and to the kitchen +Peggy knew mamma would not like her to go. She stood at last in the +passage wondering what to do, when, glancing round, she noticed that the +back-door opening into the yard was temptingly open. Peggy peeped +out--there was no one there, but, still more tempting, the door leading +into the small back street--the door just opposite the Smiley +mansion--stood open, wide open too, and even from where she was the +little girl could catch sight of the group on the other side of the +narrow street. + +She trotted across the yard, and stood for a minute, the shoe in her +hand, gazing at the six children. The sound of their voices reached her. + +"Halfred is quite took up with his shoe," said Brown Smiley. "I told +mother she moight as well give it he--a hodd shoe's no good to nobody." + +"'Tis a pity there wasn't the two of 'em," said Crippley, in a thin, +rather squeaky voice. "They'd a done bee-yutiful for----" + +[Illustration: '"For Tip--yes, that's what _I_ were thinking," cried an +eager little voice. "Here's the other shoe; I've just founded it." + +And little Peggy, with her neat hair and clean pinafore, stood in the +middle of the children holding out Hal's slipper, and smiling at them +like an old friend.' + +P. 92] + +"For Tip--yes, that's what _I_ were thinking," cried an eager little +voice. "Here's the other shoe; I've just founded it." + +And little Peggy, with her neat hair and clean pinafore, stood in the +middle of the children holding out Hal's slipper, and smiling at them, +like an old friend. + +For a moment or two they were all too astonished to speak; they could +scarcely have stared more had they caught sight of a pair of wings on +her shoulders, by means of which she had flown down from the sky. + +Then Light Smiley nudged Crippley, and murmured something which Peggy +could not clearly hear, about "th' young lady hopposite." + +"Thank you, miss," then said Crippley, not quite knowing what to say. +"Here, Halfred, you'll have to find summat else to make a carridge of; +give us the shoe--there's a good boy." + +Halfred stopped playing, and still on his knees on the pavement stared +up suspiciously at his sister. Brown Smiley, by way of taking part in +what was going on, swooped down over him and caught up the shoe before +he saw what she was doing, cleverly managing to hold her baby on her +knee all the same. + +"'Ere it be," she said. "Sarah, put Florence on Lizzie's lap for a +minute, and run you upstairs with them two shoes to mother. They'll do +splendid for Tommy, they will. And thank the young lady." + +Sarah, otherwise Light Smiley, got up obediently, deposited _her_ baby +on Crippley's lap and held out her hand to Peggy for the other shoe, +bobbing as she did so, with a "Thank you, miss." + +Peggy left off smiling and looked rather puzzled. + +"For Tommy," she repeated. "Who is Tommy? I thought they'd do for Tip. +I----" + +It was now the sisters' turn to stare, but they had not much time to do +so, for Halfred, who had taken all this time to arrive at the knowledge +that his new plaything had been taken from him, suddenly burst into a +loud howl--so loud, so deliberate and determined, that Peggy stopped +short, and all the group seemed for a moment struck dumb. + +Brown Smiley was the first to speak. + +"Come, now, Halfred," she said, "where's your manners? You'd never stop +Tommy having a nice pair o' shoes." + +But Halfred continued to weep--he gazed up at Peggy, the tears streaming +down his smutty face, his mouth wide open, howling hopelessly. + +"Poor little boy," said Peggy, looking ready to cry herself. "I wish I'd +a nother old shoe for him." + +"Bless you, miss, he's always a-crying--there's no need to worry," said +Crippley, whose real name was Lizzie. "Take him in with you, Sarah, and +tell mother he's a naughty boy, that's what he is," and Light Smiley +picked him up and ran off with him in such a hurry that Peggy stood +still repeating "poor little boy" before she knew what had become of +him. + +Quiet was restored, however. Peggy, having done what she came for, +should have gone home, but the attractions of society were too much for +her. She lingered--Crippley pushed Sarah's empty chair towards her. + +"Take a seat, miss," she said. "You'll excuse me not gettin' up. Onst +I'm a-sittin' down, it's not so heasy." + +Peggy looked at her with great interest. + +"Does it hurt much?" she asked. + +Lizzie smiled in a superior way. + +"Bless you," she said again, "_hurt's_ no word for it. It's hall +over--but it's time I were used to it--never mind about me, missy. I'm +sure it was most obligin' of you to bring the shoe, but won't your mamma +and your nurse scold you?" + +"My mamma's gone away, and so has my nurse," said Peggy. "I'm all +alone." + +All the eyes looked up with sympathy. + +"Deary me, who'd a thought it?" said Brown Smiley. "But there must be +somebody to do for you, miss." + +"To what?" asked Peggy. "Of course there's cook, and Fanny, and my +brothers, and my papa when he comes home." + +Brown Smiley looked relieved. She was only a very little girl, not more +than three years older than Peggy herself, though she seemed so much +more, and she had really thought that the little visitor meant to say +she was quite, quite by herself. + +"Oh!" she said, "that's not being real alone." + +"But it is," persisted Peggy. "It is very alone, I can tell you. I've +nobody to play with, and nothing to do 'cept to look out of the window +at you playing, and at the nother window at----" + +"The winder to the front," said Lizzie, eagerly. "It must be splendid at +your front, miss. Father told me onst you could see the 'ills--ever so +far right away in Brackenshire. Some day if I could but get along a bit +better I'd like fine to go round to your front, miss. I've never seed a +'ill." + +Lizzie was quite out of breath with excitement. Peggy answered eagerly, + +"Oh I do wish you could come to our day nursery window. When it's fine +you can see the mountings--that's old, no, big hills, you know. And--on +one of them you can see a white cottage; it does so shine in the sun." + +"Bless me," said Lizzie, and both the Smileys, for Sarah had come back +by now, stood listening with open mouths. + +"Father's from Brackenshire," said Light Smiley, whose real name was +Sarah. She spoke rather timidly, for she was well kept in her place by +her four elder sisters. For a wonder they did not snub her. + +"Yes, he be," added Matilda, "and he's told us it's bee-yutiful over +there. He lived in a cottage, he did, when he were a little lad." + +"Mebbe 'tis father's cottage miss sees shining," ventured Sarah. But +this time she was not so lucky. + +"Rubbish, Sarah," said Lizzie. "There's more'n one cottage in +Brackenshire." + +"And there's a mamma and a baby--and a papa who goes to work, in my +cottage," said Peggy. "So I don't think it could be----" but here she +grew confused, remembering that all about the white cottage was only +fancy, and that besides the Smileys' father _might_ have lived there +long ago. She got rather red, feeling somehow as if it was not very kind +of her not to like the idea of its being his cottage. She had seen him +once or twice; he looked big and rough, and his clothes were old--she +could not fancy him ever having lived in her dainty white house. + +Just then came a loud voice from the upper story, demanding Sarah. + +"'Tis Mother Whelan," said Brown Smiley, starting up. "Rebecca said as +how I was to run of an errant for her. It's time I were off." + +Peggy turned to go. + +"I must go home," she said. "P'raps I'll come again some day. If mamma +was at home I'd ask her if you mightn't come to look out of the nursery +window," she added, turning to Lizzie. + +"Bless you," said the poor girl, "I'd never get up the stairs; thank you +all the same." + +And with a deep sigh of regret at having to leave such pleasant company, +Peggy ran across the street home. + + + + +CHAPTER VII + +A BUN TO THE GOOD + + "The little gift from out our store." + + +THE yard door was still open; so was the house door. Peggy met no one as +she ran in. + +"Fanny's upstairs, p'raps," she said to herself. But no, she saw nothing +of Fanny either on the way up or in the nursery. She did not feel dull +or lonely now, however. She went to the back window and stood there for +a minute looking at Crippley and Light Smiley, who were still there with +the two babies. How funny it seemed that just a moment or two ago she +had been down there actually talking to them! She could scarcely believe +they were the very same children whom for so long she had known by +sight. + +"I am so glad I found the shoe," thought Peggy. "I wish, oh I do wish I +could have a tea-party, and 'avite them all to tea. I daresay the +father could carry Crippley upstairs--he's a very big man." + +The thought of the father carried her thoughts to Brackenshire and the +cottage on the hill, and she went into the day-nursery to look if the +white spot was still to be seen. Yes, it was very bright and clear in +the sunshine. Peggy gazed at it while a smile broke over her grave +little face. + +"How I do wish I could go there," she thought. "I wonder if the Smileys' +father 'amembers about when he was a little boy, quite well. If he +wasn't such a 'nugly man we might ask him to tell us stories about it." + +Then she caught sight of the little scarlet shoes patiently standing on +the window-sill. + +"Dear little shoes," she said. "Peggy was neely forgetting you," and she +took them up and kissed them. "Next time I go to see the Smileys," she +thought, "I'll take the red shoes with me to show them. They _will_ be +pleased." + +Then she got out her work and sat down to do it, placing her chair where +she could see the hills from, the little shoes in her lap, feeling quite +happy and contented. It seemed but a little while till Fanny came up to +lay the cloth for Peggy's dinner. She had been working extra hard that +morning, so as to be ready for the afternoon, and perhaps her head was a +little confused. And so when Peggy began telling her her adventures she +did not listen attentively, and answered "yes" and "no" without really +knowing what she was saying. + +"And so when I couldn't find you, Fanny, I just runned over with the +'nother shoe myself. And the poor little boy what was playing with +the--the _not_ the 'nother one, you know, did so cry, but I think he +soon left off. And some day I'm going to ask mamma to let me 'avite them +all to tea, for them to see the hills, and----" but here Peggy stopped, +"the hills, you know, out of the window." + +"Yes, dear; very nice," said Fanny. "You've been a good little girl to +amuse yourself so quietly all the morning and give no trouble. I do +wonder if the washerwoman knows to come for the nursery things, or if I +must send," she went on, speaking, though aloud, to herself. + +So Peggy felt perfectly happy about all she had done, not indeed that +she had had the slightest misgiving. + +The afternoon passed very pleasantly. It was quite a treat to Peggy to +go a walk in a grown-up sort of way with Fanny, trotting by her side +and talking comfortably, instead of having to take Hal's hand and +lugging him along to keep well in front of the perambulator. They went +up the Ferndale Road--a good way, farther than Peggy had ever been--so +far indeed that she could scarcely understand how it was the hills did +not seem much nearer than from the nursery window, but when she asked +Fanny, Fanny said it was often so with hills--"nothing is more +undependable." Peggy did not quite understand her, but put it away in +her head to think about afterwards. + +And when they came home it was nearly tea-time. Peggy felt quite +comfortably tired when she had taken off her things and began to help +Fanny to get tea ready for the boys, and when they arrived, all three +very hungry and rather low-spirited at the thought of mamma and nurse +being away, it was very nice for them to find the nursery quite as tidy +as usual--indeed, perhaps, rather tidier--and Peggy, with a bright face, +waiting with great pride to pour out tea for them. + +"I think you're a very good housekeeper, Peg," said Terence, who was +always the first to say something pleasant. + +"Not so bad," agreed Thorold, patronisingly. + +Baldwin sat still, looking before him solemnly, and considering his +words, as was his way before _he_ said anything. + +"I think," he began at last, "I think that when I'm a big man I'll live +in a cottage all alone with Peggy, and not no one else." + +Peggy turned to him with sparkling eyes. + +"A _white_ cottage, Baldwin dear; do say a white cottage," she +entreated. + +"I don't mind--a white cottage, but quite a tiny one," he replied. + +"Hum!" said Thor, "that's very good-natured, I must say. There'll be no +room for visitors, do you hear, Terry?" + +"Oh yes; p'raps there will sometimes," said Peggy. + +"You'll let your poor old Terry come, won't you, Peg-top?" said Terence, +coaxingly. + +"Dear Terry," said Peggy. + +"Haven't you been very dull all day alone, by the bye?" Terence went on. + +"Not very," Peggy replied. "Fanny took me a nice walk, and this +morning----" But she stopped short before telling more. She was afraid +that Thorold would laugh at her if she said how much she liked the +children at the back, and then she had another reason. She wanted to +"surprise" her brothers with a present of pipes for soap-bubbles, and +very likely if she began talking about the back street at all it would +make them think of Mrs. Whelan's, and then they might think of the pipes +for themselves, which Peggy did not wish at all. She felt quite big and +managing since she had paid a visit to the Smileys, and had a plan for +going to buy the pipes "all by my own self." + +"To-morrow," said Thorold, "there's to be a party at our school. We're +all three to go." + +Peggy's face fell. + +"It's Saturday," she said. "I thought you'd have stayed with me." + +Terence and Baldwin looked sorry. + +"_I'll_ stay at home," said Terry. + +"No," said Thor, "I really don't think you can. They're counting on you +for some of the games. Peg won't mind much for once, will you? I'm sorry +too." + +But before Peggy had time to reply, Baldwin broke in. + +"I'll stay at home with Peg-top," he said, in his slow, distinct way. +"It won't matter for me not going. I'm one of the little ones." + +"And we'll go a nice walk, won't we, Baldwin?" said Peggy, quite happy +again. "And I daresay we may have something nice for tea. I'll ask +papa," she added to herself. "I'm sure he'll give me some pennies when +he hears how good Baldwin is." + +Miss Earnshaw came the next morning, and in the interest of being +measured for her new spring frock, and watching it being cut out, and +considering what she herself could make with the scraps which the young +dressmaker gave her, the time passed very pleasantly for Peggy. + +Miss Earnshaw admired the red shoes very much, and was interested to +hear the story of the unknown lady who had given them to Peggy, and told +a story of a similar adventure of her own when she was a little girl. +And after dinner she, for Fanny was very busy, took Peggy and Baldwin +out for a walk, and on their way home they went to the confectioner's +and bought six halfpenny buns with the three pennies papa had given +Peggy that morning. At least the children thought there were only six, +but greatly to their surprise, when they undid the parcel on the nursery +table, out rolled seven! + +"Oh dear!" said Peggy, "she's gave us one too many. Must we go back to +the shop with it, do you think, Miss Earnshaw? It's such a long way." + +"I'll go," said Baldwin, beginning to fasten his boots again. + +But Miss Earnshaw assured them it was all right. + +"You always get thirteen of any penny buns or cakes for a shilling," she +said; "and some shops will give you seven halfpenny ones for threepence. +That's how it is. Did you never hear speak of a baker's dozen?" + +Still Peggy did not feel satisfied. + +"It isn't comfable," she said, giving herself a little wriggle--a trick +of hers when she was put out. "Six would have been much nicer--just two +for each," for Miss Earnshaw was to have tea with her and Baldwin. + +The young dressmaker smiled. + +"You _are_ funny, Miss Peggy," she said. "Well, run off now and get +ready for tea. We'll have Fanny bringing it up in a minute." + +Peggy, the seventh bun still much on her mind, went slowly into the +night nursery. Before beginning to take off her hat she strolled to the +window and looked out. She had seen none of the children to-day. Now, +Brown Smiley was standing just in front of the house, a basket on her +arm, staring up and down the street. She had been "of an errant" for +Mrs. Whelan, but Mrs. Whelan's door was locked; she was either asleep or +counting her money, and the little girl knew that if she went on +knocking the old woman would get into a rage, so she was "waitin' a +bit." She liked better to do her waiting in the street, for she had been +busy indoors all the morning, and it was a change to stand there looking +about her. + +Peggy gazed at her for a moment or two. Then an idea struck her. She ran +back into the nursery and seized a bun--the odd bun. + +"They're all mine, you know," she called out to Baldwin; "but we'll have +two each still." + +Baldwin looked up in surprise. "What are you going to do with it?" he +began to say, but Peggy was out of sight. + +She was soon downstairs, and easily opened the back door. But the yard +door was fastened; she found some difficulty in turning the big key. She +managed it at last, however, and saw to her delight that Brown Smiley +was still there. + +"Brown," began Peggy, but suddenly recollecting that the Smileys had +real names, she stopped short, and ran across the street. "I can't +'amember your name," she exclaimed, breathlessly, "but I've brought you +this," and she held out the bun. + +Brown Smiley's face smiled all over. + +"Lor', miss," she exclaimed. "You are kind, to be sure. Mayn't I give it +to Lizzie? She's been very bad to-day, and she's eat next to nought. +This 'ere'll be tasty-like." + +"Lizzie," repeated Peggy, "which is Lizzie? Oh yes, I know, it's +Crippley." + +Brown Smiley looked rather hurt. + +"It's not her fault, miss," she said. "I'd not like her to hear herself +called like that." + +Peggy's face showed extreme surprise. + +"How do you mean?" she said. "I've made names for you all. I didn't know +your real ones." + +Brown Smiley looked at her and saw in a moment that there was nothing to +be vexed about. + +"To be sure, miss. Beg your pardon. Well, she that's lame's Lizzie, and +me, I'm Matilda-Jane." + +"Oh yes," interrupted Peggy. "Well, you may give her the bun if you +like. It's very kind of you, for I meant it for you. I'd like----" she +went on, "I'd like to give you more, but you see papa gaved me the +pennies for us, and p'raps he'd be vexed." + +"To be sure, to be sure, that'd never do," replied Matilda, quickly. +"But oh, miss, we've been asking father about Brackenshire, and the +cottages. 'Tis Brackenshire 'ills, sure enough, that's seen from your +front." + +"I knew that," said Peggy, in a superior way. + +But Brown Smiley was too eager to feel herself snubbed. + +"And oh, but he says it is bee-yutiful there--over on the 'ills. The +air's that fresh, and there's flowers and big-leaved things as they +calls ferns and brackens." + +"And white cottages?" asked Peggy, anxiously. + +"There's cottages--I didn't think for to ask if they was all white. My! +If we could but go there some fine day. Father says it's not so far; +many's the time he's walked over there and back again the next morning +when he first comed to work here, you see, miss, and his 'ome was still +over there like." + +"Yes, in the white cottage," said Peggy. She had made up her mind that +it was unkind not to "let it be" that the Smileys' father had lived in +that very cottage, for he did seem to be a nice man in spite of his +bigness and his dingy workman's clothes. If he wasn't nice and kind she +didn't think the children would talk of him as they did. + +[Illustration: "I can't 'amember your name," she exclaimed breathlessly, +"but I've brought you this," and she held out the bun. + +Brown Smiley's face smiled all over. + +"Lor', miss," she exclaimed. "You are kind to be sure. Mayn't I give it +to Lizzie? She's been very bad to-day, and she's eat next to nought. +This 'ere'll be tasty-like." + + * * * * * + +But suddenly a window above opened, and Mother Whelan's befrilled face +was thrust out. + +"What are ye about there then, and me fire burning itself away, and me +tea ready, waiting for the bread? What's the young lady chatterin' to +the like o' you for? Go home, missy, darlin', go home." + +P.P. 107-9] + +But she spoke absently; Matilda-Jane's words had put thoughts in her +head which seemed to make her almost giddy. Brown Smiley stared at her +for a minute. + +"How she do cling to them cottages being white," she thought to herself, +"but there--if it pleases her! She's but a little one." "White if you +please, miss," she replied, "though I can't say as I had it from +father." + +But suddenly a window above opened, and Mother Whelan's befrilled face +was thrust out. + +"What are ye about there then, and me fire burning itself away, and me +tea ready, waiting for the bread? What's the young lady chatterin' to +the likes o' you for? Go home, missy, darlin', go home." + +The two children jumped as if they had been shot. + +"Will she beat you?" whispered Peggy, looking very frightened. But Brown +Smiley shook her little round head and laughed. + +"She won't have a chance, and she dursn't not to say beat us--father'd +be down on her--but she doesn't think nought of a good shakin'. But I'll +push the basket in and run off if she's in a real wax." + +"Good-bye, then. You must tell me lots more about the hills. Ask your +father all you can," and so saying, Peggy flew home again. + +"Where've you been, what did you do with the bun?" asked Baldwin, as +soon as she came in to the nursery. + +"I runned down with it, and gaved it to a little girl I saw in the +street," said Peggy. + +"Very kind and nice, I'm sure," said Miss Earnshaw. "Was it a beggar, +Miss Peggy? You're sure your mamma and nurse wouldn't mind?" she added, +rather anxiously. + +"Oh no," said Peggy. "It's not a _beggar_. It's a proper little poor +girl what nurse gives our nold clothes to." + +"Oh," said Baldwin, "one of the children over the cobbler's, I suppose. +But, Peggy," he was going on to say he didn't think his sister had ever +been allowed to run down to the back street to speak to them, only he +was so slow and so long of making up his mind that, as Fanny just then +came in with the tea, which made a little bustle, nobody attended to +him, and Miss Earnshaw remained quite satisfied that all was right. + +The buns tasted very good--all the better to Peggy from the feeling +that poor lame Lizzie was perhaps eating hers at that same moment, and +finding it "tasty." + +"Does lame people ever get quite better?" she asked the young +dressmaker. + +"That depends," Miss Earnshaw replied. "If it's through a fall or +something that way, outside of them so to say, there's many as gets +better. But if it's _in_ them, in the constitution, there's many as +stays lame all their lives through." + +Peggy wriggled a little. She didn't like to think about it much. It +sounded so mysterious. + +"What part's that?" she asked; "that big word." + +"Constitootion," said Baldwin, as if he was trying to spell +"Constantinople." + +Miss Earnshaw laughed. She lived alone with her mother, and was not much +used to children. But she was so pleasant-tempered and gentle that she +easily got into their ways. + +"I shouldn't use such long words," she said. "Our constitution just +means ourselves--the way we're made. A strong, healthy person is said to +have a good constitution, and a weakly person has a poor one." + +Baldwin and Peggy both sat silent for a minute, thinking over what she +said. + +"I don't see how that's to do with crippling," said Peggy at last. "Does +you mean," she went on, "that p'raps lame people's legs is made +wrong--by mistake, you know. _In course_ God wouldn't do it of purpose, +would he?" + +Baldwin looked rather startled. + +"Peggy," he said, "I don't think you should speak that way." + +Peggy turned her gray eyes full upon him. + +"I don't mean to say anything naughty," she said. "_Is_ it naughty, Miss +Earnshaw?" + +The young dressmaker had herself been rather taken aback by Peggy's +queer speech, and for a moment or two scarcely knew what to say. But +then her face cleared again. + +"God can't make mistakes, Miss Peggy," she said, "and He is always kind. +All the same there's many things that seem like one or the other, I +know. It must be that there's reasons for them that we can't see--like +when a doctor hurts anybody, it seems unkind, but it's _really_ to do +them good." + +"Like when our doctor cutted poor Baby's tooths to make them come +through," said Peggy, eagerly. "They was all _bleeding_, bleeding ever +so, Miss Earnshaw. Baby didn't understand, and he was _very_ angry. He +always sc'eams at the doctor now. I almost think he'd like to kill him." + +Baldwin opened his mouth wide at these bloodthirsty sentiments of +Baby's. He was too shocked to speak. + +"But it is only 'cos he doesn't understand," Peggy went on, placidly. +"_I_ don't sc'eam at the doctor. I speak to him quite goodly, 'cos, you +see, _I_ understand." + +Baldwin closed his mouth again. He looked at Peggy with admiring +respect. + +"Yes," agreed Miss Earnshaw, greatly relieved at the turn their talk had +taken, "that's just it, Miss Peggy. You couldn't have put it better." + +"Peggy," said Baldwin, "when you're big you should be a clergymunt." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII + +UNDER THE BIG UMBRELLA + + "As I was going up Pippin Hill, + Pippin Hill was dirty, + There I met a pretty miss, + And she dropped me a curtsey." + _Old Nursery Rhyme._ + + +NOTHING particular happened during the next few days. Peggy's little +life went on regularly and peacefully. Miss Earnshaw came every morning, +and either she or Fanny took Peggy a walk every afternoon, except twice +when it rained, to the little girl's great disappointment. + +The second of these wet days happened to be Friday. Peggy stood at the +front nursery window that morning looking out rather sadly. There were +no hills--no white spot to be seen, of course. + +"I wonder what the Smileys do when it rains all day," she said to +herself. "I think I'll go to the back window and look if I can see any +of them." + +She had scarcely caught sight of her neighbours for some days. Only now +and then she had seen the little ones tumbling about on the pavement, +and once or twice the elder girls had brought their chairs down and sat +there sewing. Lizzie had never come out. Peggy feared she must be still +ill, and perhaps that made the others extra busy. It was not likely any +of them would come out to-day, as it was raining so; but _sometimes_ she +was able to see their faces at the window. And on a rainy day some of +the little ones at least would perhaps be looking out. + +She turned to go to the other nursery when Miss Earnshaw spoke to her. + +"I wouldn't be so vexed at its being wet to-day, Miss Peggy, if I was +you," she said. "It'll be much worse if it's wet to-morrow, for it's +your brothers' half-holiday." + +"Is to-morrow Saturday?" asked Peggy. + +"To be sure it is. And I'm afraid I can't possibly stay here in the +afternoon. I've got to go to see a lady some way off about some work. I +wish she hadn't fixed for Saturday. If it's fine it won't matter so +much. Fanny and I were saying you could all go a nice walk--the young +gentlemen and you, with her. But if it's wet I don't know however she'll +manage you all in the house." + +Suddenly Peggy's eyes began to sparkle. + +"Miss Earnshaw," she said, "I've thought of something. If you'll ask +Fanny, I'm sure she'll say we can; we've not had them for such a long +time, and I've got my four pennies and a halfpenny--that'll get six, you +know, in case any's brokened." + +Miss Earnshaw looked at her and then began to laugh. + +"Miss Peggy dear, you must tell me first what you mean," she said. "Your +thoughts come so fast that they run ahead of your words. What is it you +mean to get six of--not buns?" + +"Buns!" repeated Peggy. "You can't blow bubbles with buns. No, of course +I meant pipes. Nice white pipes to blow soap-bubbles." + +"Oh, to be sure," said Miss Earnshaw. "That's a very good idea, Miss +Peggy, in case to-morrow afternoon's wet, and I shouldn't wonder if it +was." + +"And you'll ask Fanny?" + +"Of course; you can ask her yourself for that matter. I'm sure she's the +last to grudge you anything that'd please you and the young gentlemen. +And even if soap-bubbles are rather messy sometimes, it's easy to wipe +up. It's not like anything dirty." + +"Soap must be clean, mustn't it?" said Peggy, laughing. "But don't tell +the boys, pelease, dear Miss Earnshaw. I do so want to 'apprise them. I +can get the pipes to-morrow morning. I know where to get them," and +quite happy, Peggy trotted off to take out her money-box and look to be +quite sure that the three pennies and three halfpennies were there in +safety, where for some weeks they had been waiting. + +"Bless her heart," said the young dressmaker. "She is the sweetest +little innocent darling that ever lived." + +After looking over her pennies Peggy turned to the window. No, none of +the Smileys were to be seen. + +"Never mind," said Peggy to herself. "I'll p'raps see them to-morrow +when I go for the pipes. I almost hope it'll be a wet day. It will be so +nice to blow soap-bubbles. Only," and she sighed a little, "it does seem +such a very long time since I sawed the white cottage." + +To-morrow _was_ rainy, very rainy, with no look of "going to clear up" +about it. The boys grumbled a good deal at breakfast at the doleful +prospect of a dull half-holiday in the house. + +"And papa's going away to-day till Monday," said Thorold; "so there'll +be no going down to the dining-room to sit beside him while he's at +dinner for a change." + +"Poor papa," said Peggy, "he'll get very wet going such a long way." + +"Nonsense, you little goose," said Thor, crossly. "People don't get wet +in cabs and railway carriages." + +"I forgot," said Peggy, meekly. + +"You shouldn't call her a goose, Thor," said Terence. "It's very +disagreeable to travel on a very rainy day. I've often heard people say +so." + +"I wish I was going to travel, rainy or not, I know that," grumbled +Thorold. "Here we shall be mewed up in this stupid nursery all the +afternoon with nothing to do." + +"There's lots of things to do," said Baldwin. "I think I'll write a +letter to mamma for one thing. And I want to tidy my treasure-box +and----" + +"You're a stupid," said Thorold. "You're too fat and slow to have any +spirit in you." + +"Now, Thorold, I say that's not fair," said Terry. + +"Would it show spirit to grumble? You'd be down upon him if he did. +There's no pleasing you." + +"_I_ know something that would please him," said Peggy, who was +trembling between eagerness to tell and determination _not_ to tell her +"surprise." + +"What?" said Thor, rather grumpily still. + +"I'm not going to tell you till you come home. And it'll only be if it's +a rainy afternoon," said Peggy. + +Terence and Baldwin pricked up their ears. + +"Oh, do tell us, Peg-top," they said. + +But the little girl shook her head. + +"No, no," she replied. "I've promised myself--_quite_ promised not." + +"There's a reason for you," said Thor. But his tone was more +good-natured now. He felt ashamed of being so cross when the little ones +were so kind and bright. + +"I'll really, _truly_ tell you when you come back from school," said +Peggy, and with this assurance the boys had to content themselves. + +Miss Earnshaw arrived as usual, or rather not as usual, for she was +dripping, poor thing, and had to leave her waterproof downstairs in the +kitchen. + +"What weather, Miss Peggy," she said, as she came in. "I thought it +would be a wet day, but not such a pour. It is unfortunate that I have +to go so far to-day, isn't it? And I'm sorry to leave you children alone +too." + +"Never mind," said Peggy, cheerily; "we'll be quite happy with the soap +bubbles. I've got my money quite ready. Mayn't I go and get the pipes +now?" + +"Out, my dear? In such weather!" exclaimed Miss Earnshaw. + +"Oh, but it's _quite_ near," said Peggy. "Just hop out of the door and +you're there. The boys always buy their pipes there, and mamma goes +there herself sometimes to see the old woman." + +"Well, wait a bit, any way. It can't go on raining as fast as this all +the morning surely. It's real cats and dogs." + +Peggy looked up in surprise. + +"Cats and dogs, Miss Earnshaw?" she repeated. + +"Oh, bless you, my dear, it's only a way of speaking," said the +dressmaker, a little impatiently, for she was not very much accustomed +to children. "It just means raining _very_ hard." + +Peggy went to the window to look out for herself. Yes indeed it was +raining very hard. The little girl could not help sighing a little as +she gazed at the thick even gray of the clouds, hiding like a curtain +every trace of the distant hills she was so fond of. + +"I won't put out the little red shoes to-day," she said to herself, +"there's nothing for them to see." + +Then other thoughts crept into her mind. + +"I wonder if it's raining at the white cottage too," she said to +herself. And aloud she asked a question. + +"Miss Earnshaw, pelease, does it ever rain in the country?" she said. + +"Rain in the country! I should rather think it did. Worse than in town, +you might say--that's to say, where there's less shelter, you'll get +wetter and dirtier in the country, only of course it's not the same kind +of really black sooty rain. But as for mud in country lanes! I shall see +something of it this afternoon, I expect." + +"Oh, I'm so sorry," said Peggy. "I thought it never rained in the +country. I thought it was always quite pretty and lovely," and she +sighed deeply. "I wonder what people who live in little cottages in the +country do all day when it rains," she said. + +"Why, my dear, much the same as other folk, I should say. They have +their rooms to clean, and their dinner to cook, and their children to +look after. Still I daresay it'd be a bit drearier in the country of a +right-down wet day like this, even than in town. I've never lived there +myself, except for a week at a time at most, but mother was all her +young days in the country." + +"Everybody's fathers and mothers lived there," said Peggy, rather +petulantly. "Why don't peoples let their children live there now?" + +Miss Earnshaw laughed a little. Peggy did not like her to laugh in that +way, and she gave herself a little wriggle, though poor Miss Earnshaw +certainly did not mean to vex her. + +"There are plenty of children in the country too, Miss Peggy," she said. +"Mother's youngest sister has twelve." + +"Twelve," repeated Peggy, "_how_ nice! at least if there's lots of +sisters among them, and no very little babies. Do they live over in that +country?" she went on, pointing in the direction of the invisible hills, +"that country called Brack---- You know the name." + +"Brackenshire," said Miss Earnshaw, "no, my mother comes from much +farther off. A very pretty place it must be by what she says. Not but +what Brackenshire's a pretty country too. I've been there several times +with the Sunday school for a treat." + +"And did you see the hills and the white cottages?" asked Peggy +breathlessly. + +"Oh yes, the hills are beautiful, and there's lots of cottages of all +kinds. They look pretty among the trees, even though they're only poor +little places, most of them." + +"The white ones is the prettiest," said Peggy, as if she knew all about +it. + +"Yes, I daresay," said Miss Earnshaw, without paying much attention; she +had got to rather a difficult part of the sleeve she was making. + +"Did you ever walk all the way there when you was a little girl?" Peggy +went on. + +"Oh yes, of course," Miss Earnshaw replied, without the least idea of +what she was answering. + +"Really!" said Peggy, "how nice!" Then seeing that the dressmaker was +absorbed in her work: "Miss Earnshaw," she said, "I'm going for the +pipes now. It isn't raining _quite_ so fast, and I'll not be long." + +"Very well, my dear," Miss Earnshaw replied, and Peggy went off to fetch +her pennies from the drawer in the other nursery where she kept them. +She had a new idea in her head, an idea which Miss Earnshaw's careless +words had helped to put there, little as she knew it. + +"If I see the Smileys," thought Peggy, "I'll tell them what she said." + +She glanced out of the window, dear me, how lucky! There stood Brown +Smiley looking out at the door, as if she were hesitating before making +a plunge into the dripping wet street. It did seem at the back as if it +were raining faster than in front. Peggy opened the cupboard and took +out her little cloak which was hanging there. + +"I won't put on my hat," she thought, "'cos nurse says the rain spoils +the feavers. I'll get a numbrella downstairs, and then I _can't_ get +wet, and here's my pennies all right in my pocket. I do hope Brown +Smiley will wait till I get down." + +She made all the haste she could, and found, as she expected, an +umbrella in the stand downstairs. It was not very easy to open, but she +succeeded at last, then came, however, another difficulty, she could not +get herself and the umbrella through the back door together. + +"Dear me," thought Peggy, "I wonder how people does with their +numbrellas. They _must_ open them in the house, else they'd get wet +standing outside while they're doing it. I never looked to see how nurse +does, but then we almost never go out when it's rainy. I 'appose it's +one of the hard things big peoples has to learn. Oh, dear! _won't_ it +come through?" + +No, she couldn't manage it, at least not with herself under it. At last +a brilliant idea struck Peggy; anything was better than closing the +tiresome thing now she _had_ got it opened--she would send it first and +follow after herself. So the umbrella was passed through, and went +slipping down the two or three steps that led into the yard, where it +lay gaping up reproachfully at Peggy, who felt inclined to call out +"Never mind, poor thing, I'm coming d'reckly." + +And as "d'reckly" as possible she did come, carefully closing the door +behind her, for fear the rain should get into the house, which, together +with the picking up of the umbrella, far too big and heavy a one for a +tiny girl, took so long that I am afraid a good many drops had time to +fall on the fair uncovered head before it got under shelter again. + +But little cared Peggy. She felt as proud as a peacock, the umbrella +representing the tail, you understand, when she found herself outside +the yard door, which behaved very amiably, fairly under weigh for her +voyage across the street. She could see nothing before her; fortunately, +however, no carriages or carts ever came down the narrow back way. + +Half-way over Peggy stopped short--she had forgotten to look if Brown +Smiley was still standing there. It was not easy to get a peep from +under the umbrella, without tilting it and herself backwards on to the +muddy road, but with great care Peggy managed it. Ah dear, what a +disappointment! There was no little girl in front of the cobbler's +window, but glancing to one side, Peggy caught sight of the small figure +with a shawl of "mother's" quaintly drawn over the head, trotting away +down the street. With a cry Peggy dashed after her. + +"Oh, Brown Smiley," she called out, "do come back. I'm too frightened to +go to buy the pipes alone," for what with her struggles and her +excitement, the little damsel's nerves were rather upset. "Oh, Brown +Smiley--no--no, that's not her name, oh what _is_ your name, Brown +Smiley?" and on along the rough pavement behind the little messenger she +rushed, if indeed poor Peggy's toddling, flopping from one side to +another progress, could possibly be called "rushing." + +[Illustration: "But an umbrella rolling itself about on the pavement, an +umbrella from which proceeds most piteous wails, an umbrella from +underneath which, when you get close to it, you see two little feet +sticking out, and by degrees two neat black legs, and then a muddle of +short skirts, which by rights should be draping the legs, but have +somehow got all turned upside down like a bird's feathers ruffled up the +wrong way--_such_ an umbrella, or perhaps I should say an umbrella in +such circumstances, may certainly be called a strange sight, may it +not?" + +P. 127] + +It came to an end quickly--the paving-stones were rough and uneven, the +small feet had only "my noldest house-shoes" to protect them, and the +"numbrella" was sadly in the way; there came suddenly a sharp cry, so +piercing and distressful that even Matilda-Jane, accustomed as she was +to childish sounds of woe of every kind and pitch, was startled enough +to turn round and look behind her. + +"Can it be Halfred come a-runnin' after me?" she said to herself. But +the sight that met her eyes puzzled her so, that at the risk of Mother +Whelan's scoldings for being so long, she could not resist running back +to examine for herself the strange object. This was nothing more nor +less than an umbrella, and an umbrella in itself is not an uncommon +sight. But an umbrella rolling itself about on the pavement, an umbrella +from which proceeds most piteous wails, an umbrella from underneath +which, when you get close to it, you see two little feet sticking out +and by degrees two neat black legs, and then a muddle of short skirts, +which by rights should be draping the legs, but have somehow got all +turned upside down like a bird's feathers ruffled up the wrong +way--_such_ an umbrella, or perhaps I should say an umbrella in such +circumstances, certainly may be called a strange sight, may it not? + +Matilda-Jane Simpkins, for that was Brown Smiley's whole long name, +thought so any way, for she stood stock still, staring, and the only +thing she could collect herself enough to say was, "Lor'!" + +But her state of stupefaction only lasted half a moment. She was a +practical and business-like little person; before there was time for +another cry for help, she had disentangled the umbrella and its owner, +and set the latter on her feet again, sobbing piteously, and dreadfully +dirty and muddy, but otherwise not much the worse. + +Then Matilda-Jane gave vent to another exclamation. + +"Bless me, missy, it's _you_!" she cried. "Whatever are you a-doing of +to be out in the rain all alone, with no 'at and a humbrella four sizes +too big for the likes of you, and them paper-soled things on yer feet? +and, oh my! ain't yer frock muddy? What'll your folk say to you? Or is +they all away and left you and the cat to keep 'ouse?" + +"I was running after you, Brown Smiley," sobbed Peggy. She could not +quite make out if Matilda-Jane was making fun of her or not, and, +indeed, to do Matilda justice, she had no such intention. "I was running +after _you_," Peggy repeated, "and you _wouldn't_ stop, and I couldn't +run fast 'cos of the numbrella, and so I felled down." + +"Never mind, missy dear, you'll be none the worse, you'll see. Only, +will they give it you when you go home for dirtying of your frock?" + +"Give it me?" repeated Peggy. + +"Yes, give it you; will you get it--will you catch it?" said Matilda, +impatiently. + +"I don't know what you mean," Peggy replied. + +Matilda wasted no more words on her. She took her by the arm, umbrella +and all, and trotted her down the street again till they had reached the +Smiley mansion. Then she drew Peggy inside the doorway of the passage, +whence a stair led up to Mrs. Whelan's, and to the Simpkins's own rooms +above that again, and having shut up the umbrella with such perfect ease +that Peggy gazed at her in admiration, she tried to explain her meaning. + +"Look 'ere now, miss;" she said, "which'll you do--go straight +over-the-way 'ome, just as you are, or come in along of _huz_ and get +yerself cleaned up a bit?" + +"Oh, I'll go in with you, pelease," sobbed Peggy. + +"P'raps Miss Earnshaw wouldn't scold me. She let me come, and I didn't +fell down on purpose. But I _know_ she wouldn't let me come out +again--I'm sure she wouldn't, and I do so want to get the pipes my own +self. You'll take me to Mrs. Whelan's, won't you, dear Brown Smiley?" + +"I'll catch it when she sees I haven't done her errant," said Matilda. +"But never mind; she'll not be so bad with you there, maybe. Come up +with me, missy, and I'll get Rebecca to wipe you a bit," and she began +the ascent of the narrow staircase, followed by Peggy. + + + + +CHAPTER IX + +THE OPPOSITE HOUSE + + "There was an old woman that lived in a shoe, + She had so many children she didn't know what to do." + _Nursery Rhymes._ + + +IN spite of her misfortunes, Peggy could not help feeling very pleased +at finding herself at last inside the house she had watched so often +from the outside. It was certainly not a pretty house--a big person +would probably have thought it a very poor and uninteresting one; but it +was not dirty. The old wooden steps were scrubbed down once a week +regularly, so there was nothing to strike the little girl as +disagreeable, and it seemed delightfully queer and mysterious as she +climbed the steep, uneven staircase, which grew darker and darker as +they went on, so that but for Brown Smiley's voice in front, Peggy would +not have had the least idea where she was going. + +"There's Mother Whelan's door," Matilda said in a half whisper, as if +afraid of the old woman's pouncing out upon them, and Peggy wondered how +she knew it, for to her everything was perfectly dark; "but we'll go +upstairs first to Rebecca," and on they climbed. + +Suddenly, what seemed for a moment a blaze of brilliant light from the +contrast with the darkness where they were, broke upon them. Peggy quite +started. But it was only the opening of a door. + +"Is that you, Matilda-Jane? My, but you have been sharp. I should think +old Whelan 'ud be pleased for onst." + +The speaker was Reddy; she stood in the doorway, her bare red arms +shining, as they always did, from being so often up to the elbows in +soap and water. + +"Oh, Rebecca, don't say nothin', but I've not been of my errant yet. +Now, don't ye begin at me--'tweren't of my fault. I was a-'urryin' along +when I saw miss 'ere a-rollin' in the wet with her humberellar, and I +'ad to pick her up. She's that muddy we were afeard they'd give it her +over the way--her mar's away. So I told her as you'd tidy her up a bit. +Come along, missy. Rebecca's got a good 'eart, has Rebecca; she'll +clean you nicely, you'll see." + +For at the sound of Rebecca's sharp voice poor Peggy had slunk back into +the friendly gloom of the staircase. But she came creeping forward now, +so that Reddy saw her. + +"Lor'!" said the big girl, "little miss from the hopposite winder to be +sure." + +This quite restored Peggy's courage. + +"Have you seen me at the window?" she said. "How funny! I've looked at +you lotses and lotses of times, but I never thought of you looking at +me." + +To which both sisters replied with their favourite exclamation, "Lor'!" + +Just then came a voice from inside. + +"Shut the door there, Rebecca, can't you? If there's one thing I can't +abide, and you might know it, it's a hopen door, and the draught right +on baby's head." + +Rebecca took Peggy by the hand and drew her into the room, and while she +was relating the story of little missy's misfortunes to her mother, +little missy looked round her with the greatest interest. + +It was a small room, but oh, how full of children! Dinner was being got +ready "against father and the boys coming home," Matilda said, but where +father and the boys could possibly find space to stand, much less to +sit, Peggy lay awake wondering for a long time that night. She counted +over all those already present, and found they were all there except +Lizzie, the lame girl. And besides the two babies and Alfred, whom she +knew by sight, she was amazed to see a fourth, a very tiny doll of a +thing--the tiniest thing she had ever seen, but which they all were as +proud of as if there had never been a baby among them before. At this +moment it was reposing in the arms of Mary-Hann; Light Smiley, whose +real name was Sarah, you remember, was taking charge of the two big +babies in one corner, while Reddy and her mother were busy at the fire, +and "Halfred" was amusing himself quietly with some marbles, apparently +his natural occupation. + +What a lot of them! Peggy began to feel less sure that she would like to +have as many sisters as the Smileys. Still they all looked happy, and +their mother, whom Peggy had never seen before, had really a very kind +face. + +"I'll see to the pot, Rebecca," she said; "just you wipe missy's frock a +bit. 'Twill be none the worse, you'll see. And so your dear mar's away +missy. I 'ope the change'll do her good." + +"Yes, thank you," said Peggy. "She's gone to the country. Did you ever +live in the country? And was it in a white cottage?" + +Mrs. Simpkins smiled. + +"No, missy, I'm town-bred. 'Tis father as knows all about the country; +he's a Brackenshire man." + +"Oh yes," said Peggy, "I forgot. It's Miss Earnshaw's mother I was +thinking of." + +"But father," said Matilda, "_he_ can tell lots of tales about the +country." + +"I wish he was at home," said Peggy. "But I must go, now my frock's +cleaned. Some day p'raps I'll come again. Thank you, Reddy," at which +Rebecca, who had been vigorously rubbing Peggy's skirts, stared and +looked as if she were going to say "Lor'!" "I'm going to buy soap-bubble +pipes at Mrs. Whelan's," Peggy went on, for she was losing her shyness +now; "that's what I comed out in the rain for. We're going to play at +soap-bubbles this afternoon, 'cos it's too wet to go out a walk." + +All the Smileys listened with great interest. + +"Mayn't Brown--I mean Matilda-Jane--come with me, pelease?" said Peggy. +"I'm _razer_ frightened to go to buy them alone; sometimes that old +woman does look so cross." + +"She looks what she is then," said Reddy, "'cept for one thing; she's +awful good to Lizzie. She's a-sittin' down there this very minute as is, +is Lizzie, to be out o' the way like when mother and me's cleaning, you +see, miss." + +Brown Smiley's face had grown grave. + +"I dursn't let Mother Whelan see as I've not gone," she said, "but if +missy doesn't like to go alone--not as she'd be sharp to the likes of +you, but still----" + +"_I'll_ go," said little Sarah, Light Smiley, that is to say. "Jest you +see to the childer will ye, Mary-Hann?" she shouted to the deaf sister. +"I won't be harf a minute." + +"And you, Matilda-Jane, off with you," said Rebecca, which advice Brown +Smiley instantly followed. + +Sarah took Peggy's hand to escort her down the dark staircase again. +Light Smiley was, of all the family perhaps, Peggy's favourite. She was +two years or so older than her little opposite neighbour, but she +scarcely looked it, for both she and Brown Smiley were small and slight, +and when you came to speak to them both, Sarah seemed a good deal +younger than Matilda; she was so much less managing and decided in +manner, but on the present occasion Peggy would have preferred the elder +Smiley, for to tell the truth her heart was beginning to beat much +faster than usual at the thought of facing Mrs. Whelan in her den. + +"Isn't you frightened, Light Smiley?" asked the little girl when the two +stopped, and Peggy knew by this that they must be at the old woman's +door. + +"Oh no," Sarah replied. "Tisn't as if we'd been up to any mischief, you +see. And Lizzie's there. She's mostly quiet when Lizzie's there." + +So saying she pushed the door open. It had a bell inside, which +forthwith began to tinkle loudly, and made Peggy start. This bell was +the pride of Mrs. Whelan's heart; it made such a distinction, she +thought, between her and the rest of the tenants of the house, and the +more noisily it rang the better pleased she was. Sarah knew this, and +gave the door a good shove, at the same time pulling Peggy into the +room. + +"What's it yer afther now, and what's become of Matilda-Jane?" called +out the old woman, not, at the first moment, catching sight of Peggy. + +"It's little missy from over-the-way," Sarah hastened to explain; +"she's come to buy some pipes of you, Mother Whelan." + +[Illustration: "To be sure," she said in her most gracious tone. "'Tis +the beautiful pipes I have. And 'tis proud I am to say the purty young +lady," and on she went with a long flattering speech about Peggy's +likeness to her "swate mother," and inquiries after the lady's health, +all the time she was reaching down from a high shelf an old broken +cardboard box, containing her stock of clay pipes. + +P. 138.] + +Mrs. Whelan looked at Peggy where she stood behind Sarah, gravely +staring about her. + +"To be sure," she said in her most gracious tone. "'Tis the beautiful +pipes I have. And 'tis proud I am to say the purty young lady," and on +she went with a long flattering speech about Peggy's likeness to her +"swate mother," and inquiries after the lady's health, all the time she +was reaching down from a high shelf an old broken cardboard box, +containing her stock of clay pipes. + +Peggy did not answer. In the first place, thanks to the old woman's +Irish accent and queer way of speaking she did not understand a quarter +of what she said. Then her eyes were busy gazing all about, and her nose +was even less pleasantly occupied, for there was a very strong smell in +the room. It was a sort of mixed smell of everything--not like the +curious "everything" smell that one knows so well in a village shop in +the country, which for my part I think rather nice--a smell of tea, and +coffee, and bacon, and nuts, and soap, and matting, and brown holland, +and spices, and dried herbs, all mixed together, but with a clean +feeling about it--no, the smell in Mrs. Whelan's was much stuffier +and snuffier. For joined to the odour of all the things I have named was +that of herrings and tobacco smoke, and, I rather fear, of whisky. And +besides all this, I am very much afraid that not only a spring cleaning +but a summer or autumn or winter cleaning, were unknown events in the +old woman's room. No wonder that Peggy, fresh from the soft-soap-and-water +smell of the Simpkins's upstairs, sniffed uneasily and wished Mrs. +Whelan would be quick with the pipes; her head felt so queer and +confused. + +But looking round she caught sight of a very interesting object; this +was Lizzie, rocking herself gently on her chair in a corner, and seeming +quite at home. Peggy ran--no she couldn't run--the room was so crowded, +for a counter stood across one end, and in the other a big square old +bedstead, and between the two were a table and one or two chairs, and an +old tumble-down chest of drawers--made her way over to Lizzie. + +"How do you do, Crip--Lizzie, I mean? I hope your pains aren't very bad +to-day?" + +"Not so very, thank you, miss," said the poor girl. "It's nice and quiet +in here, and the quiet does me a deal o' good." + +Peggy sighed. + +"I don't like being very quiet," she said. "I wish you could come over +to the nursery; now that Hal and baby and nurse are away it's dreffully +quiet." + +"But you wouldn't care to change places with me, would you, missy?" said +Lizzie. "I'm thinking you'd have noise enough if you were upstairs +sometimes. My--it do go through one's head, to be sure." + +Peggy looked very sympathising. + +"Aren't you frightened of _her_?" she whispered, nodding gently towards +Mrs. Whelan. + +"Not a bit of it," said Lizzie, also lowering her voice; "she's right +down good to me, is the old body. She do scold now and then and no +mistake, but bless you, she'd never lay a finger on me, and it's no +wonder she's in a taking with the children when they kicks up a hextra +row, so to say." + +Peggy's mouth had opened gradually during this speech, and now it +remained so. She could not understand half Lizzie's words, but she had +no time to ask for an explanation, for just then Light Smiley called to +her to come and look at the pipes which were by this time waiting for +her on the counter. + +They were the cleanest things in the room--the only clean things it +seemed to Peggy as she lifted them up one by one to choose six very nice +ones. And then she paid her pennies and ran back to shake hands with +Lizzie and say good-bye to her--she wondered if she should shake hands +with Mrs. Whelan too, but fortunately the old woman did not seem to +expect it, and Peggy felt very thankful, for her brown wrinkled hands +looked sadly dirty to the little girl, dirtier perhaps than they really +were. + +"I like your house much better than hers," said Peggy, when she and +Light Smiley were down at the bottom of the stairs again; "it smells +much nicer." + +"Mother and Rebecca's all for scrubbing, that's certing," replied Sarah, +with a smile of pleasure--of course all little girls like to hear their +homes praised--"but she's not bad to Lizzie, is old Whelan," as if that +settled the whole question, and Peggy felt she must not say any more +about the dirty room. + +Light Smiley felt it her duty to see "missy" safe across the street. +Peggy's hands were laden with the precious pipes, and Sarah carried the +big umbrella over the two of them. They chattered as they picked their +way through the mud and stood for a minute or two at the yard-door of +Peggy's house. Light Smiley peeped in. + +"Lor'," she said, expressing her feelings in the same way as her +sisters, "yours must be a fine house, missy. All that there back-yard +for yerselves." + +"You should see the droind-room, and mamma's room; there's a marble top +to the washing-stand," said Peggy, with pride. + +"Lor'," said Sarah again. + +"Some day," Peggy went on, excited by Sarah's admiration, "_some_ day +when my mamma comes home, I'm going to ask her to let me have a +tea-party of you _all_--in the nursery, you know. The nursery's nice +too, at least I daresay you'd like it." + +"Is that the winder where you sees us from?" asked Sarah. "Matilda-Jane +says as how we could see you too quite plain at it if you put your face +quite close to the glass." + +"I can't," said Peggy. "There's the toilet-table close to the window--at +least, it's really a chest of drawers, you know, but there's a +looking-glass on the top and a white cover, so it's like a toilet-table +for nurse, though it's too high up for me. I have to stand on a chair if +I want to see myself popperly." + +"Dear!" said Sarah sympathisingly. + +"And I can only see you by scrooging into the corner, and the curting's +there. No, you couldn't ever see me well up at the window. But that's +not the nursery where we'd have tea. That's only the night nursery. The +other one's to the front; that's the window where you can see the hills +far away." + +"In the country, where father used to live. Oh yes, I know. I heerd +Matilda-Jane a-asking 'im about it," said Sarah. + +"Oh, and did he tell you any more? Do ask him if it's really not far to +get there," said Peggy, eagerly. + +Sarah nodded. + +"I won't forget," she said; "and then, missy, when you axes us to the +tea-party, I'll be able to tell you all about it." + +She did not mean to be cunning, poor little girl, but she was rather +afraid Peggy might forget about the tea-party, and she thought it was +not a bad plan to say something which might help to make her remember +it. + +"Yes," Peggy replied, "that would be lovely. Do make him tell all you +can, Light Smiley. Oh, I do wish mamma would come home now, and I'd ask +her about the tea-party immediately. I'm sure she'd let me, for she +likes us to be kind to poor people." + +Sarah drew herself up a little at this. + +"We're not--not to say _poor_ folk," she said, with some dignity. +"There's a many of us, and it's hard enough work, but still----" + +"Oh, don't be vexed," said Peggy. "I know you're not like--like beggars, +you know. And I think _we're_ rather poor too. Mamma often says papa has +to work hard." + +Sarah grew quite friendly again. + +"I take it folks isn't often rich when they've a lot of children," she +began, but the sound of a window opening across the street made her +start. "Bless me," she said, "I must run. There's Rebecca a-going to +scold me for standing talking. Good-bye, miss, I'll not forget to ask +father." + +And Sarah darted away, carrying with her the umbrella, quite forgetting +that it was Peggy's. Peggy forgot it too, and it was not raining so fast +now, so there was less to remind her. She shut the door and ran across +the yard. The house door still stood open, and she made her way up to +the nursery without meeting any one. + + + + +CHAPTER X + +"SOAP-BUBBLING" + + "And every colour see I there." + _The Rainbow_, CHARLES LAMB. + + +THERE was no one upstairs. Miss Earnshaw had gone down to the kitchen to +iron the seams of her work, without giving special thought to Peggy. If +any one had asked her where the child was she would have probably +answered that she was counting over her money in the night nursery. So +she was rather surprised when coming upstairs again in a few minutes she +was met by Peggy flying to meet her with the pipes in her hand. + +"I've got them, Miss Earnshaw; aren't they beauties?" she cried. "And I +don't think my frock's reely spoilt? It only just looks a _little_ funny +where the mud was." + +"Bless me!" exclaimed the young dressmaker, "wherever have you been, +Miss Peggy? No, your frock'll brush all right; but you don't mean to say +you've been out in the rain? You should have asked me, my dear." + +She spoke rather reproachfully; she was a little vexed with herself for +not having looked after the child better, but Peggy was one of those +quiet "old-fashioned" children, who never seem to need looking after. + +"I did ask you," said Peggy, opening wide her eyes, "and you said, 'Very +well, my dear.'" + +Miss Earnshaw couldn't help smiling. + +"I must have been thinking more of your new frock than of yourself," she +said. "However, I hope it's done you no harm. Your stockings aren't +wet?" + +"Oh no," said Peggy; "my slippers were a weeny bit wet, so I've changed +them. My frock wouldn't have been dirtied, only I felled in the wet, +Miss Earnshaw, but Brown--one of the little girls, you know, that lives +in the house where the shop is--picked me up, and there's no harm done, +is there? And I've got the pipes, and won't my brothers be peleased," +she chirruped on in her soft, cheery way. + +Miss Earnshaw could not blame her, though she determined to be more on +the look-out for the future. And soon after came twelve o'clock, and +then the young dressmaker was obliged to go, bidding Peggy "Good-bye +till Monday morning." + +The boys came home wet and hungry, and grumbling a good deal at the +rainy half-holiday. Peggy had hidden the six pipes in her little bed, +but after dinner she made the three boys shut their eyes while she +fetched them out and laid them in a row on the table. Then, "You may +look now," she said; "it's my apprise," and she stood at one side to +enjoy the sight of their pleasure. + +"Hurrah," cried Terry, "pipes for soap-bubbles! Isn't it jolly? Isn't +Peggy a brick?" + +"Dear Peggy," said Baldwin, holding up his plump face for a kiss. + +"Poor old Peg-top," said Thor, patronisingly. "They seem very good +pipes; and as there's six of them, you and I can break one a-piece if we +like, Terry, without its mattering." + +Peggy looked rather anxious at this. + +"Don't try to break them, Thor, pelease," she said; "for if you beginned +breaking it might go on, and then it would be all spoilt like the last +time, for there's no fun in soap-bubbling by turns." + +"No, that's quite true," said Terry. "You remember the last time how +stupid it was. But of course we won't break any, 'specially as they're +yours, Peggy. We'll try and keep them good for another time." + +"Did you spend all your pennies for them?" asked Baldwin, +sympathisingly. + +"Not quite all," said Peggy. "I choosed them myself," she went on, +importantly. "There was a lot in a box." + +"Why, where did you get them? You didn't go yourself to old Whelan's, +surely?" asked Thor, sharply. + +"Yes, I runned across the road," said Peggy. "You always get them there, +Thor." + +"But it's quite different. I can tell you mamma won't be very pleased +when she comes home to hear you've been so disobedient." + +Poor Peggy's face, so bright and happy, clouded over, and she seemed on +the point of bursting into tears. + +"I weren't disobedient," she began. "Miss Earnshaw said, 'Very well, +dear,' and so I thought----" + +[Illustration: "They were soon all four very happy at the pretty play. +The prettiness of it was what Peggy most enjoyed the most; the boys, +boy-like, thought little but of who could blow the biggest bubbles, +which, as everybody knows, are seldom as rich in colour as smaller +ones." + +P. 149] + +"Of course," interrupted Terry; "Peggy's never disobedient, Thor. We'll +ask mamma when she comes home; but she won't be vexed with you, +darling. You won't need to go again before then." + +"No," said Peggy, comforted, "I don't want to go again, Terry dear. It +doesn't smell very nice in the shop. But the _children's_ house is very +clean, Terry. I'm sure mamma would let us go _there_." + +"Those Simpkinses over old Whelan's," said Terry. "Oh yes, I know mother +goes there herself sometimes, though as for that she goes to old +Whelan's too. But we're wasting time; let's ask Fanny for a tin basin +and lots of soap." + +They were soon all four very happy at the pretty play. The prettiness of +it was what Peggy enjoyed the most; the boys, boy-like, thought little +but of who could blow the biggest bubbles, which, as everybody knows, +are seldom as rich in colour as smaller ones. + +"I like the rainbowiest ones best," said Peggy. "I don't care for those +'normous ones Thor makes. Do you, Baldwin?" + +Baldwin stopped to consider. + +"I suppose very big things aren't never so pretty as littler things," he +said at last, when a sort of grunt from Terry interrupted him. Terry +could not speak, his cheeks were all puffed out round the pipe, and he +dared not stop blowing. He could only grunt and nod his head sharply to +catch their attention to the wonderful triumph in soap-bubbles floating +before his nose. There was a big one, as big as any of Thorold's, and up +on the top of it a lovely every-coloured wee one, the most brilliant the +children had ever seen--a real rainbow ball. + +They all clapped their hands, at least Peggy and Baldwin did so. Thorold +shouted, "Hurrah for Terry's new invention. It's like a monkey riding on +an elephant." But Peggy did not think that was a pretty idea. + +"It's more like one of the very little stars sitting on the sun's knee," +was her comparison, which Baldwin corrected to the moon--the sun was too +yellow, he said, to be like a no-colour bubble. + +Then they all set to work to try to make double-bubbles, and Thor +actually managed to make three, one on the top of the other. And Terry +made a very big one run ever so far along the carpet without breaking, +bobbing and dancing along as he blew it ever so gently. + +And as a finish-up they all four put their pipes into the basin and blew +together, making what they called "bubble-pudding," till the pudding +seemed to get angry and gurgled and wobbled itself up so high that it +ended by toppling over, and coming to an untimely end as a little spot +of soapy water on the table. + +"Pride must have a fall, you see," said Thor. + +"It's like the story of the frog that tried to be as big as an ox," said +Terence, at which they all laughed as a very good joke. + +Altogether Peggy's pipes turned out a great success, and the rainy +afternoon passed very happily. + +The Sunday that came after that Saturday was showery, sunny, and rainy +by turns, like a child who having had a great fit of crying and sobbing +can't get over it all at once, and keeps breaking into little bursts of +tears again, long after the sorrow is all over. But by Monday morning +the world--Peggy's world, that is to say--seemed to have quite recovered +its spirits. The sun came out smiling with pleasure, and even the town +birds, who know so little about trees, and grass, and flowers, and all +those delightful things, hopped about and chirruped as nicely as could +be. The boys set off to school in good spirits, and while Fanny was +taking down the breakfast-things Peggy got out the little red shoes, and +set them on the window-sill, where they had not been for several days. + +"There, dear little red shoes," she said, softly, "you may look out +again at the pretty sun and the sky, and the fairy cottage up on the +mounting. You can see it quite plain to-day, dear little shoes. The +clouds is all gone away, and it's shinin' out all white and beautiful, +and I daresay the mamma's standin' at the door with the baby--or +p'raps," Peggy was never very partial to the baby, "it's asleep in its +cradle. Yes, I think that's it. And the hens and cocks and chickens is +all pecking about, and the cows moo'in. Oh, _how_ I do wish we could go +and see them all, don't you, dear little shoes?" + +She stood gazing up at the tiny white speck, to other eyes almost +invisible, as if by much gazing it would grow nearer and clearer to her; +there was a smile on her little face, sweet visions floated before +Peggy's mind of a day, "some day," when mamma should take her out "to +the country," to see for herself the lovely and delightful sights that +same dear mamma had described. + +Suddenly Fanny's voice brought her back to present things. Fanny was +looking rather troubled. + +"Miss Peggy, love," she said, "cook and I can't think what's making Miss +Earnshaw so late this morning. She's always so sharp to her time. I +don't like leaving you alone, but I don't know what else to do. Monday's +the orkardest day, for we're always so busy downstairs, and your papa +was just saying this morning that I was to tell Miss Earnshaw to take +you a nice long walk towards the country, seeing as it's so fine a day. +It will be right down tiresome, it will, if she don't come." + +"Never mind, Fanny," said Peggy. "I don't mind much being alone, and I +daresay Miss Earnshaw will come. I _should_ like to go a nice walk +to-day," she could not help adding, with a longing glance out at the +sunny sky. + +"To be sure you would," said Fanny, "and it stands to reason as you +won't be well if you don't get no fresh air. I hope to goodness the girl +will come, but I doubt it--her mother's ill maybe, and she's no one to +send. Well, dear, you'll try and amuse yourself, and I'll get on +downstairs as fast as I can." + +Peggy went back to the window and stood there for a minute or two, +feeling rather sad. It did seem hard that things should go so very +"contrarily" sometimes. + +"Just when it's such a fine day," she thought, "Miss Earnshaw doesn't +come. And on Saturday when we _couldn't_ have goned a walk she did +come. Only on Saturday it did rain very badly in the afternoon and she +didn't stay, so that wasn't a pity." + +Then her thoughts went wandering off to what the dressmaker had told her +of having to go a long way out into the country on Saturday afternoon, +and of how wet and muddy the lanes would be. Peggy sighed; she +_couldn't_ believe country lanes could ever be anything but delightful. + +"Oh how _very_ pretty they must be to-day," she said to herself, "with +all the little flowers coming peeping out, and the birds singing, and +the cocks and hens, and the cows, and--and----" she was becoming a +little confused. Indeed she wasn't _quite_ sure what a "lane" really +meant--she knew it was some kind of a way to walk along, but she had +heard the word "path" too,--were "lane" and "path" quite the same? she +wondered. And while she was wondering and gazing out of the window, she +was startled all of a sudden by a soft, faint tap at the door. So soft +and faint that if it had been at the window instead of at the door it +might have been taken for the flap of a sparrow's wing as it flew past. +Peggy stood quite still and listened; she heard nothing more, and was +beginning to think it must have been her fancy, when again it came, and +this time rather more loudly. "Tap, tap." Yes, "certingly," thought +Peggy, "there's somebody there." + +She felt a little, a _very_ little frightened. + +Should she go to the door and peep out, or should she call "Come in"? +she asked herself. And one or two of the "ogre" stories that Thorold and +Terry were so fond of in their "Grimm's Tales," _would_ keep coming into +her head--stories of little princesses shut up alone, or of giants +prowling about to find a nice tender child for supper. Peggy shivered. +But after all what was the use of standing there fancying things? It was +broad, sunny daylight--not at all the time for ogres or such-like to be +abroad. Peggy began to laugh at her own silliness. + +"Very likely," she thought, "it's Miss Earnshaw playing me a trick to +'apprise me, 'cos she's so late this morning." + +This idea quite took away her fear. + +"It's you, Miss Earnshaw, I'm quite sure it's you," she called out; +"come in quick, you funny Miss Earnshaw. Come in." + +But though the door slowly opened, no Miss Earnshaw appeared. Peggy +began to think this was carrying fun too far. + +"Why don't you come in quick?" she said, her voice beginning to tremble +a little. + +The door opened a little farther. + +"Missy," said a low voice, a childish hesitating voice, quite different +from Miss Earnshaw's quick bright way of speaking, "Missy, please, it's +me, Sarah, please, miss." + +And the door opened more widely, and in came, slowly and timidly still, +a small figure well known to Peggy. It was none other than Light Smiley. + +Peggy could hardly speak. She was so very much astonished. + +"Light Smiley--Sarah, I mean," she exclaimed, "how did you come? Did you +see Fanny? Did she tell you to come upstairs?" + +Sarah shook her head. + +"I don't know who Fanny is, missy. I just comed in of myself. The doors +was both open, and I didn't meet nobody. I didn't like for to ring or +knock. I thought mebbe your folk'd scold if I did--a gel like me. Mother +knows I've comed; she said as how I'd better bring it myself." + +And she held up what Peggy had not noticed that she was carrying--the +big umbrella that had caused so much trouble two days before. + +"The numbrella," cried Peggy. "Oh thank you, Sarah, for bringing it +back. I never thought of it! How stupid it was of me." + +"Mother told me for to bring it to the door and give it in," Sarah went +on. "I didn't mean to come upstairs, but, the door was open, you see, +miss, and I knowed your nussery was at the top, and--I 'ope it's not a +liberty." + +"No, no," said Peggy, her hospitable feelings awaking to see that her +little visitor was still standing timidly in the doorway, "I'm _very_ +glad you've comed. You don't know how glad I am. It's so lonely all by +myself--Miss Earnshaw hasn't come this morning. Come in, Light Smiley, +do come in. Oh how nice! I can show you the mountings and the little +white cottage shining in the sun." + +She drew Sarah forwards. But before the child looked out of the window, +her eyes were caught by the tiny red slippers on the sill. + +"Lor'," she said breathlessly, "what splendid shoes! Are they for--for +your dolly, missy? They're too small for a baby, bain't they?" + +"Oh yes," said Peggy, "they're too small for our baby, a great deal. But +then he's very fat." + +"They'd be too small for ours too, though she's not a hextra fine child +for her age. She were a very poor specimint for a good bit, mother says, +but she's pickin' up now she's got some teeth through. My--but them +shoes is neat, to be sure! They must be for a dolly." + +"_I've_ no doll they'd do for," said Peggy, "but I like them just for +theirselves. _I_ always put them to stand there on a fine day; they like +to look out of the window." + +Sarah stared at Peggy as if she thought she was rather out of her +mind!--indeed the children at the back had hinted to each other that +missy, for all she was a real little lady, was very funny-like +sometimes. But Peggy was quite unconscious of it. + +"Lor'," said Sarah at last, "how can shoes see, they've no eyes, missy?" + +"But you can _fancy_ they have. Don't you ever play in your mind at +fancying?" asked Peggy. "I think it's the nicest part of being alive, +and mamma says it's no harm if we keep remembering it's not real. But +never mind about that--do look at the hills, Sarah, and oh, _can_ you +see the white speck shining in the sun? _That's_ the cottage--I call it +my cottage, but _p'raps_," rather unwillingly, "it's the one your papa +lived in when he was little." + +"D'ye really think so?" said Sarah, eagerly. "It's Brackenshire over +there to be sure, and father's 'ome was up an 'ill--deary me, to think +as it might be the very place. See it--to be sure I do, as plain as +plain. It do seem a good bit off, but father he says it's no more'n a +tidy walk. He's almost promised he'll take some on us there some fine +day when he's an 'oliday. I axed 'im all I could think of--missy--all +about the cocks and 'ens and cows and pigses." + +"Not pigs," interrupted Peggy. "I don't like pigs, and I won't have them +in my cottage." + +"I wasn't a-talking of your cottage," said Sarah, humbly. "'Twas what +father told us of all the things he seed in the country when he were a +boy there. There's lots of pigses in Brackenshire." + +"Never mind. We won't have any," persisted Peggy. "But oh, Light Smiley, +do look how splendid the sky is--all blue and all so shiny. I never +sawed such a lovely day. I would so like to go a walk." + +"And why shouldn't you?" asked Sarah. + +"There's no one to take me," sighed Peggy. "It's Monday, and Fanny's +very busy on Mondays, and I told you that tiresome Miss Earnshaw's not +comed." + +Sarah considered a little. + +"Tell you what, missy," she said, "why shouldn't we--you and me--go a +walk? I'm sure mother'd let me. I've got my 'at, all 'andy, and I did +say to mother if so as missy seed me I might stop a bit, and she were +quite agreeable. I'm a deal older nor you, and I can take care of you +nicely. Mother's training me for the nussery." + +Peggy started up in delight. She had been half sitting on the +window-sill, beside the shoes. + +"Oh, Light Smiley," she said, "how lovely! Of course you could take care +of me. We'd go up Fernley Road, straight up--that's the way to +Brackenshire, you know, and p'raps we might go far enough to see the +white cottage plainer. If it's not a very long way to get there, we'd be +sure to see it much plainer if we walked a mile or two. A mile isn't +very far. Oh, do let's go--quick! quick!" + +But Sarah stopped her. + +"You'd best tell your folks first, missy," she said. "They'll let you go +and be glad of it, I should say, if they're so busy, and seein' as they +let you come over to our 'ouse, and your mar knowin' us and all." + +"It was Miss Earnshaw that let me go," said Peggy, "and then she said +she didn't know I'd goned. And Thor said--oh no, he only said I +shouldn't have goned to the shop. But I'll ask Fanny--I'll tell you what +I'll do. I'll put on my boots and my hat and jacket--you shall help me, +Sarah, and then we'll go down and I'll call to Fanny from the top of the +kitchen stairs and ask her if I may go out with you, Sarah, dear. I'm +sure she'll say I may." + +So the two little maidens went into the night nursery, where Light +Smiley was greatly interested in looking at her own dwelling-place from +other people's windows, and quite in her element too, seeing that she +was being trained for the nursery, in getting out Peggy's walking +things, buttoning her boots, and all the rest of it. + + + + +CHAPTER XI + +UP FERNLEY ROAD + + "But the way is long and toilsome, + And the road is drear and hard; + Little heads and hearts are aching, + Little feet with thorns are scarred." + _The Children's Journey._ + + +LIGHT SMILEY kept looking round the room with great satisfaction. + +"It is nice in 'ere and no mistake," she said at last. "Your 'ats and +coats and frocks all in a row, as neat as neat, and these little white +beds a sight to be seen. I should love for Rebecca and Matilda-Jane to +see it." + +"They will," said Peggy, "when I avite you all to a tea-party, you +know." + +Sarah drew a deep breath. A tea-party in these beautiful nurseries +seemed almost too good ever to come true. + +"Is there a many nusseries as nice as this 'un, do you think, missy? I +do 'ope as I'll get into a nice one when I'm big enough. One 'ud take a +pride in keeping it clean and tidy." + +"I don't think this is at all a _grand_ one," Peggy replied. "Mamma's +was much grander when she was little, I know. But, of course, she's very +pertickler, and so's nurse, about it being very tidy." + +And then, Peggy being ready, the quaint pair of friends took each +other's hands and set off to the top of the kitchen stairs. + +"Should we take the humberellar?" said Sarah, suddenly stopping at the +foot of the first little flight of stairs. "I don't think it looks any +ways like rain, still one never knows, and I can carry it easy." + +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, "Fanny, are you there? Can you hear me?" for +she was not allowed to go down to the kitchen by herself. + +But no one answered. Fanny was busy washing in the back kitchen with +both doors shut to keep in the steam, and the cook had gone out to the +butcher's. + +"Fanny," 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. + +"Fanny 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 Fanny, 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 sunshine; 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?" + +They were at the corner of the road by this time, but there was no sign +of Fanny or cook. "Webb's" shop stood a little way down the other side, +but as far as they could see it was empty. + +"P'raps your folk don't deal there," said Sarah, to which Peggy had +nothing to say, and they stood looking about them in an uncertain kind +of way. + +"We may as well go on a bit," said Sarah at last, "that there boy's sure +to tell." + +Peggy had no objection, and they set off along Fernley Road at a pretty +brisk pace. + +They had not very far to go before, as Sarah said, the road grew less +town-like; the houses had little gardens round them, some of which were +prettily kept, and after a while they came to a field or two, not yet +built upon, though great placards stuck up on posts told that they were +waiting to be sold for that purpose. They were very towny sort of fields +certainly, still the bright spring sunshine made the best of them as of +everything else this morning, and the two children looked at them with +pleasure. + +"There's nicer fields still, a bit farther on," said Sarah. "I've been +along this 'ere road several times. It goes on and on right into the +country." + +"I know," said Peggy, "it goes on into the country of the mountings. +But, Sarah," she said, stopping short, and looking rather distressed, "I +don't think we see them any plainer than from the nursery window, and +the white cottage doesn't look even as plain. Are you sure we're going +the right way?" + +"We couldn't go wrong," answered Sarah, "there's no other way. But we've +come no distance yet, missy, and you see there's ups and downs in the +road that comes between us and the 'ills somehow. I suppose at the +window we could see straight-forward-like, and then we was 'igher up." + +"Yes, that must be it," said Peggy; "but I would like to go far enough +to see a _little_ plainer, Sarah, wouldn't you? I've got the red shoes +in my pocket, you know, and when we come to a place where we can see +very nice and clear I'll take them out and let them see too." + +"Lor'," said Sarah, "you _are_ funny, missy." + +But she smiled so good-naturedly that Peggy did not mind. + +After a bit they came to a place where another road crossed the one they +were on. This other road was planted with trees along one side, and the +shade they cast looked cool and tempting. + +"I wish we could go along that way," said Peggy, "but it would be the +wrong way. It doesn't go on to the mountings." + +Sarah did not answer for a minute. She was trying to spell out some +letters that were painted up on the corner of a wall, which enclosed the +garden of a house standing in the road they were looking down. + +"'B, R, A,'" she began, "'B, R, A, C, K:' it's it, just look, missy. +Bain't that Brackenshire as large as life? 'Brackenshire Road.' It must +be this way," and she looked quite delighted. + +"But how can it be?" objected Peggy. "This road _doesn't_ go to the +hills, Sarah. They're straight in front." + +"But maybe it slopes round again after a bit," said Sarah. "Lots of +roads does that way, and runs the same way really, though you wouldn't +think so at the start. It stands to reason, when it's got the name +painted up, it must lead Brackenshire way;" and then suddenly, as a man +with a basket on his arm appeared coming out of one of the houses, she +darted up to him. + +"Please, mister, does this road lead to Brackenshire?" she asked. + +The man did not look very good-natured. + +"Lead to where?" he said, gruffly. + +"To Brackenshire--it's painted up on the wall, but we want to be sure." + +"If it's painted up on the wall, what's the sense of askin' me?" he +said. "If you go far enough no doubt you'll get there. There's more'n +one road to Brackenshire." + +Sarah was quite satisfied. + +"You see," she said to Peggy, running back to her, "it's all right. If +we go along this 'ere road a bit, I 'specs it'll turn again and then +we'll see the 'ills straight in front." + +Peggy had no objection. Fernley Road was bare and glaring just about +there, and the trees were very tempting. + +"It's really getting like the country," said Peggy, as they passed +several pretty gardens, larger and much prettier than the small ones in +Fernley Road. + +"Yes," Light Smiley agreed, "but though gardings is nice, I don't hold +with gardings anything like as much as fields. Fields _is_ splendid +where you can race about and jump and do just as you like, and no fears +of breakin' flowers or nothink." + +"Do you think we shall come to fields like that soon?" said Peggy. "If +there was a very nice one we might go into it p'raps and rest a little, +and look at the mountings. I wish we could begin to see the mountings +again, Sarah, it seems quite strange without them, and I'm getting +rather tired of looking at gardens when we can't go inside them, aren't +you?" + +Sarah was feeling very contented and happy. She was, though a little +body for her age, much stronger than Peggy, as well as two years older, +and she looked at her companion with surprise when she began already to +talk of "resting." + +"Lor', missy, you bain't tired already," she was beginning, when she +suddenly caught sight of something which made her interrupt herself. +This was another road crossing the one they were on at right angles, and +running therefore in the same direction as Fernley Road again. "'Ere's +our way," she cried, "now didn't I tell you so? And this way goes +slopin' up a bit, you see. When we get to the top we'll see the 'ills +straight 'afore us, and 'ave a beeyutiful view." + +Peggy's rather flagging steps grew brisker at this, and the two ran +gaily along the new road for a little way. But running uphill is tiring, +and it seemed to take them a long time to get to the top of the slope, +and when they did so, it was only to be disappointed. Neither mountains +nor hills nor white cottage were to be seen, only before them a rather +narrow sort of lane, sloping downwards now and seeming to lead into some +rather rough waste ground, where it ended. Peggy's face grew rather +doleful, but Sarah was quite equal to the occasion. A little down the +hill she spied a stile, over which she persuaded Peggy to climb. They +found themselves in a potato field, but a potato field with a path down +the middle; it was a large field and at the other end of the path was a +gate, opening on to a cart track scarcely worthy the name of a lane. +The children followed it, however, till another stile tempted them +again, this time into a little wood, where they got rather torn and +scratched by brambles and nettles as they could not easily find a path, +and Sarah fancied by forcing their way through the bushes they would be +sure to come out on to the road again. + +It was not, however, till they had wandered backwards among the trees +and brambles for some time that they got on to a real path, and they had +to walk a good way along this till they at last came on another gate, +this time sure enough opening into the high road. + +Sarah's spirits recovered at once. + +"'Ere we are," she said cheerfully, "all right. 'Ere's Fernley Road +again. Nothink to do but to turn round and go 'ome if you're tired, +missy. _I'm_ not tired, but if you'd rayther go no farther----" + +Peggy did not answer for a moment; she was staring about her on all +sides. The prospect was not a very inviting one; the road was bare and +ugly, dreadfully dusty, and there was no shade anywhere, and at a little +distance some great tall chimneys were to be seen, the chimneys of some +iron-works, from which smoke poured forth. There were a good many +little houses near the tall chimneys, they were the houses of the people +who worked there, but they were not sweet little cottages such as Peggy +dreamed of. Indeed they looked more like a very small ugly town, than +like rows of cottages on a country road. + +"This isn't a pretty road at all," said Peggy at last, rather crossly I +am afraid, "it is very nugly, and you shouldn't have brought me here, +Sarah. I can't see the mountings; they is quite goned away, more goned +away than when it rains, for then they're only behind the clouds. This +isn't Fernley Road, Light Smiley. I do believe you've losted us, and +Peggy's so tired, and very, very un'appy." + +It was Peggy's way when she grew low-spirited to speak more babyishly +than usual; at such times it was too much trouble to think about being a +big girl. Poor Sarah looked dreadfully distressed. + +"Oh, missy dear, don't cry," she said. "If it bain't Fernley Road, it's +_a_ road any way, and there's no call to be frightened. We can ax our +way, but I'd rayther not ax it at the cottages, for they might think I +was a tramp that'd stoled you away." + +"And what would they do then?" asked Peggy, leaving off crying for a +minute. + +"They'd 'av me up mebbe, and put us in the lock-ups." + +"What's that?" + +"The place where the pl'ice leaves folk as they isn't sure about." + +"Prison, do you mean?" said Peggy, growing very pale. + +"Well, not ezackly, but somethin' like." + +Peggy caught hold of Sarah in sudden terror. + +"Oh come along, Light Smiley, quick, quick. Let's get back into the +fields and hide or anything. Oh come quick, for fear they should catch +us." And she tugged at Sarah, trying to drag her along the road. + +"Stop, missy, don't take on so; there's no need. We'll just go along +quietly and no one'll notice us, only you stop crying, and then no +one'll think any 'arm. We'll not go back the way we came, it's so +drefful thorny, but we'll look out for another road or a path. I 'spects +you're right enough--this 'ere bain't Fernley Road." + +Peggy swallowed down her sobs. + +"I don't think you look quite big enough to have stolened me, Sarah," +she said at last. "But I would like to get back into the fields quick. +If only we could see the mountings again, I wouldn't be quite so +frightened." + +They had not gone far before they came upon a gateway and a path leading +through a field where there seemed no difficulties. Crossing it they +found themselves at the edge of the thorny wood, which they skirted for +some way. Peggy's energy, born of fear, began to fail. + +"Sarah," she said at last, bursting into fresh tears, "Peggy can't go no +farther, and I'm so hungry too. I'm sure it's long past dinner-time. You +must sit down and rest; p'raps if I rested a little, I wouldn't feel so +very un'appy." + +Sarah looked at her almost in despair. She herself was worried and +vexed, very afraid too of the scolding which certainly awaited her at +home, but she was not tired nor dispirited, though very sorry for Peggy, +and quite aware that it was she and not "missy" who was to blame for +this unlucky expedition. + +"I'd like to get on," she said, "we're sure to get back into a road +as'll take us 'ome before long. Couldn't I carry you, missy?" + +"No," said Peggy, "you're far too little. And I can't walk any more +without resting. You're very unkind, Light Smiley, and I wish I'd never +seen you." + +Poor Sarah bore this bitter reproach in silence. + +She looked about for a comfortable seat in the hedge, and settled +herself so that Peggy could rest against her. The sunshine, though it +had seemed hot and glaring on the bare dusty road was not really very +powerful, for it was only late April, though a very summerlike day. +Peggy left off crying and said no more, but leant contentedly enough +against Sarah. + +"I'm comf'able now," she said, closing her eyes. "Thank you, Light +Smiley. I'll soon be rested, and then we'll go on." + +But in a moment or two, by the way she breathed, Sarah saw that she had +fallen asleep. + +[Illustration: "And at last, though she was really so anxious and +distressed, the quiet and the milder air, and the idleness perhaps, to +which none of the Simpkins family were much accustomed, all joined +together and by degrees hushed poor Light Smiley to sleep, her arms +clasped round Peggy as if to protect her from any possible danger." + +P. 177] + +"Bless us," thought the little guardian to herself, "she may sleep for +hours. Whatever 'ull I do? She's that tired--and when she wakes she'll +be that 'ungry, there'll be no getting her along. She'll be quite +faint-like. If I dared leave her, I'd run on till I found the road and +got somebody to 'elp carry her. But I dursn't. If she woked up and me +gone, she'd be runnin' who knows where, and mebbe never be found again. +Poor missy--it'll be lock-ups and no mistake, wusser I dessay for me, +and quite right too. Mother'll never say I'm fit for a nussery after +makin' sich a fool of myself." + +And in spite of her courage, the tears began to trickle down Sarah's +face. Peggy looked so white and tiny, lying there almost in her arms, +that it made her heart ache to see her. So she shut her own eyes and +tried to think what to do. And the thinking grew gradually confused and +mixed up with all sorts of other thinkings. Sarah fancied she heard her +mother calling her, and she tried to answer, but somehow the words would +not come. + +And at last, though she was really so anxious and distressed, the quiet +and the mild air, and the idleness perhaps, to which none of the +Simpkins family were much accustomed, all joined together and by degrees +hushed poor Light Smiley to sleep, her arms clasped round Peggy as if to +protect her from any possible danger. + +It would have been a touching picture, had there been any one there to +see. Unluckily, not merely for the sake of the picture, but for that of +the children themselves, there was no one. + + + + +CHAPTER XII + +THE SHOES-LADY AGAIN + + "I'll love you through the happy years, + Till I'm a nice old lady." + _Poems written for a Child._ + + +WHEN they woke, both of them at the same moment it seemed, though +probably one had roused the other without knowing it, the sun had gone, +the sky looked dull, it felt chilly and strange. Peggy had thought it +must be past dinner-time before they had sat down to rest; it seemed now +as if it must be past tea-time too! + +Sarah started up, Peggy feebly clinging to her. + +"Oh dear, dear," said Sarah, "I shouldn't have gone to sleep, and it's +got that cold!" She was shivering herself, but Peggy seemed much the +worse of the two. She was white and pinched looking, and as if she were +half stupefied. + +"I'm so cold," she said, "and so hungry. I thought I was in bed at home. +I do so want to go home. I'm sure it's very late, Light Smiley; do take +me home." + +"I'm sure, missy, it's what I want to do," said poor Sarah. "I'm afeared +it's a-going to rain, and whatever 'ull we do then? You wouldn't wait +'ere a minute, would you, while I run to see if there's a road near?" + +"No, no," said Peggy, "I won't stay alone. I'm very, very frightened, +Light Smiley, and I think I'm going to die." + +"Oh Lor', missy, don't you say that," said Sarah, in terror. "If you +can't walk I'll carry you." + +"I'll try to walk," said Peggy, picking up some spirit when she saw +Sarah's white face. + +And then the two set off again, dazed and miserable, very different from +the bright little pair that had started up Fernley Road that morning. + +Things, however, having got to the worst, began to mend, or at least +were beginning to mend for them, though Peggy and Sarah did not just yet +know it. Not far from the edge of the field where they were, a little +bridle-path led into a lane, and a few yards down this lane brought +them out upon Fernley Road again at last. + +"I see the mountings," cried Peggy, "oh, Light Smiley, Peggy sees the +mountings. P'raps we won't die, oh p'raps we'll get home safe again." + +But though she had been trying to be brave, now that she began to hope +again, it was too much for her poor little nerves--Peggy burst into loud +sobbing. + +"Oh, dear missy, try not to cry," said Sarah. "There--there--where's +your hankercher?" and she dived into Peggy's pocket in search of it. And +as she pulled it out, out tumbled at the same time the two little +scarlet shoes, falling on the ground. + +"Oh Light Smiley, my red shoes. They'll be all spoilt and dirtied," said +Peggy, as well as she could, for Sarah was dabbing the handkerchief all +over her face. + +Sarah stooped to pick them up; both children were too much engaged to +notice the sound of wheels coming quickly along the quiet road. But the +sight of a speck of dirt on one of the shoes set Peggy off crying again, +and she cried for once pretty loudly. The wheels came nearer, and then +stopped, and this made Sarah look round. A pony-carriage driven by a +lady had drawn up just beside them. The groom, sitting behind, jumped +down, though looking as if he did not know what he was to do. + +"What is the matter, little girls?" said the lady. + +"It's, please'm--we've lost our road--it's all along o' me, mum--but I +didn't mean no 'arm, only missy's that wore out'm, and----" but before +Sarah could get farther, she was stopped by a sort of cry from both the +lady and Peggy at once. + +"Oh, oh," called out Peggy, "it's the shoes-lady--oh, pelease, pelease, +take me home," and she seemed ready to dart into the lady's arms. + +"I do believe," _she_ said, "I do believe it's the little girl I saw at +the bootmaker's, and--yes, of course it is--there are the shoes +themselves! My dear child, whatever are you doing to be so far from +home--at least I suppose you live in the town?--and what have you got +the dolly's shoes with you for?" + +"I brought them for them to see the mountings and the white cottage," +sobbed Peggy; "but I'm so cold and hungry, pelease take me home, oh, +pelease, do." + +The lady seemed rather troubled. Even if she had not remembered Peggy, +she would have seen in a moment that she was a little lady, though +Peggy looked miserable enough with her torn clothes, and scratched and +tear-stained face. + +"Poor child," she said, "tell me your name, and where you live." + +"I'm Peggy, but I don't 'amember my nother name, 'cos I'm tired and it's +very long," she said. + +The lady looked at Sarah. Sarah shook her head. + +"No, mum, I don't know it neither, but I knows the name of the street. +'Tis Bernard Street'm--off Fernley Road, and their back winders looks +over to us. We're Simpkinses'm, and missy's mar knows as we're +'speckable, and mother she never thought when she told me to take back +the humberellar, as I'd lead missy sich a dance. I'll never do for the +nussery, no never. I'm not steady enough," and here Light Smiley gave +signs of crying herself. + +It was not easy for the lady to make out the story, but by degrees, with +patience she did so. But while talking she had lifted Peggy into the +carriage beside her, and wrapped her up in a shawl that lay on the seat, +Peggy nestling in, quite contentedly. + +"Now," said the lady, "you get in too, Sarah Simpkins, and I'll drive +you both home. I was on my way home out into the country, but I can't +leave you here on the road. This is Fernley Road, but it's quite four +miles from the town." + +In scrambled Sarah, divided between fear of her own and Peggy's +relations' scoldings when they got home, and the delight and honour of +driving in a carriage! The groom would have liked to look grumpy, I am +quite sure, but he dared not. Peggy, for her part, crept closer and +closer to the lady, and ended by falling asleep again, so that it was a +good thing Light Smiley was sitting on the other side, to keep her from +falling out. + +The four miles seemed very short to Sarah, and as they got into the +outskirts of the town her face grew longer and longer. + +"I'm more'n half a mind to run away, I 'ave," she said to herself, quite +unaware she was speaking aloud. "It'll be more'n I can stand, mother and +Rebecca and all on 'em down on me, for I didn't mean no 'arm. I'd best +run away." + +The lady turned to her, hitherto she had not taken much notice of Sarah, +but now she felt sorry for the little girl. + +"What are you saying, my dear?" she said gently, though all the same her +voice made Sarah jump. "Are you afraid of going home? You have not done +anything naughty, exactly, as far as I understand. It was only +thoughtless. I will go with you to your home if you like, and explain to +your mother how it was." + +"Oh thank you, mum," said Sarah, eagerly, her spirits rising again at +once; "you see, mum, I do so want to be in the nussery onst I'm big +enough, and I was so afeared mother'd never think of it again. I only +wanted to please little missy, for she seemed so lonely like, her mar +and all bein' away and no one for to take her a walk. She's a sweet +little missy, she is, but she's only a baby, so to say; she do have such +funny fancies. 'Twas all to see the cottage on the 'ills she wanted to +come up Fernley Road so badly." + +"The cottage--what cottage?" asked the lady. + +Sarah tried to explain, and gradually the lady got to understand what +little Peggy had meant about bringing the red shoes "to see the +mountings and the cottage." + +"She's always a-talking of the country, and father lived there when he +was a boy, and missy had got it in her 'ead that he lived in a white +cottage, like the one she fancies about," Sarah went on. + +"I would like to take her out into the real country, poor little pet," +said the lady, looking tenderly at the sweet tiny face of the sleeping +child. She loved all children, but little girls of Peggy's age were +especially dear to her, for many years before she had had a younger +sister who had died, and the thought of her had come into her mind the +first time she had seen Peggy at the door of the shoe shop. "If I can +see any of her friends I will ask them to let her spend a day with me," +she went on, speaking more to herself than to Sarah. + +As they turned into Bernard Street a cab dashed past them coming very +fast from the opposite direction. It drew up in front of the house which +Sarah was just that moment pointing out to the lady as Peggy's home, and +a gentleman, followed by a young woman, sprang out. The door was opened +almost as soon as they rang, and then the three, the other servant who +had answered the bell, the young woman and the gentleman, all stood +together on the steps talking so anxiously and eagerly that for a moment +or two they did not notice the pony-carriage, and though the groom knew +the whole story by this time and had jumped down at once, he was far +too proper to do anything till he had his lady's orders. + +"Ask the gentleman to speak to me," said the lady, "and you jump out, +little Sarah. I think he must be Peggy's father." + +He had turned round by this time and came hurrying forward. The moment +the lady saw him she knew she had guessed right. He was so like +Peggy--fair and gray-eyed, and with the same gentle expression, and very +young looking to be the father not only of Peggy, but of _big_ little +boys like Thor and Terry. His face looked pale and anxious, but the +moment he caught sight of the little sleeping figure leaning against the +lady it all lighted up and a red flush came into his cheeks. + +"Oh--thank God," he exclaimed, "my little Peggy! You have found her! How +good of you! But--she is not hurt?--she is all right?" + +"Yes--yes--only cold and hungry and tired," said the lady eagerly, for +Peggy did look rather miserable still. "Will you lift her out?" and as +he did so, she got out herself, and turned to Sarah. "May I bring this +other child in for a moment," she said, "and then I can explain it all?" + +Sarah followed gladly, but a sudden thought struck her, "Please'm," she +said, bravely, though the tears came to her eyes as she spoke, "p'raps +I'd best run 'ome; mother'll be frightened about me." + +"But I promised you should not be scolded," said the lady; "stay," and +she turned to Fanny, "she lives close to, she says." + +"At the back--over the cobbler's," said Sarah, readily. + +"Can you let her mother know she's all right, then? And say I am coming +to speak to her in a moment," said the lady, and Fanny went off. She had +been so terrified about Peggy, and so afraid that she would be blamed +for carelessness, that she dared not wait, though she was dying with +curiosity to know the whole story and what one of the Simpkins children +could have had to do with it. + +Peggy awoke by the time her father had got her into the dining-room, +where cook had made a good fire and laid out Peggy's dinner and tea in +one to be all ready, for the poor woman had been hoping every instant +for the last few hours that the little girl would be brought home again. +It had been difficult to find Peggy's father, as he was not at his +office, and Fanny had been there two or three times to fetch him. + +"Oh dear papa," were Peggy's first words, "I'm so glad to be home. I'll +never go up Fernley Road again; but I did so want to see the cottage and +the mountings plainer. And it wasn't Light Smiley's fault. She was very +good to me, and I was very cross." + +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. + +"I meant to be so good while mamma was away," she whispered. "But I'll +never do it again, papa. I'll stay quiet in the nursery all alone, even +if Miss Earnshaw doesn't come back at all." + +For a message had come from the dressmaker that her mother was very ill, +as Fanny had feared, and that she was afraid she would not be able to +leave her for several days. + +"It won't be so bad as that, dear," said her father. "Mamma will be back +in five days now, and I don't think you are likely to be left alone in +the nursery--certainly not to-day;" and then he told her about the lady +having asked her to spend the day out in the country with her, and that +Peggy must be ready by twelve o'clock, not to keep her new friend +waiting. + +Peggy's eyes gleamed with delight. + +"Out into the country?" she said. "Oh, how lovely! And oh, papa, do you +think _p'raps_ she lives in a white cottage?" + +Papa shook his head. + +"I'm afraid it's not a cottage at all where she lives," he said. "But +I'm sure it is a very pretty house, and let us hope it is a white one." + +"No," said Peggy, "you don't understand, papa--not as well as mamma +does. I don't care what colour it is if it's only an 'ouse." + +And she couldn't understand why papa laughed so that he really couldn't +correct her. "I'm afraid, Peggy," he said, "you've been taking lessons +from little Miss Simpkins. It's time mamma came home again to look after +you." + +"Yes, I wish mamma was come home again," said Peggy. "We can't do +without her, can we, papa?" + +But when the dear little pony carriage came up to the door, and Peggy +got in and drove off with her kind friend, she was so happy that she had +not even time to wish for mamma. + +And what a delightful day she had! The lady's house was very pretty, and +the gardens and woods in which it stood even prettier in Peggy's +opinion. And though it was not a cottage, there were all the country +things to see which Peggy was so fond of--cocks and hens, and cows, and +in one field lots of sheep and sweet little lambkins. There were pigs +too, which Peggy would not look at, but ran away to the other end of the +yard as soon as she heard them "grumphing," which amused the lady very +much. And in the afternoon she went a walk with her friend through the +village, where there were several pretty cottages, but none that quite +fitted Peggy's fancy. When they came in again Peggy stood at the +drawing-room window, which looked out towards Brackenshire, without +speaking. + +"You like that view, don't you, dear?" said the lady. "You can see the +hills?" + +"Yes," said Peggy, "I can see the mountings, but not the white cottage. +It's got turned wrong somehow, from here. I can only see _it_ from the +nursery window at home," and she gave a very little sigh. + +"Some day," said the lady, "some day in the summer when the afternoons +are very long, I will drive you right out a long way among the hills, +and perhaps we'll find the cottage then. For I hope your mamma will +often let you come to see me, my little Peggy." + +"Yes," said Peggy, "that would be lovely. I _wonder_ if we'd find the +white cottage." + +No, they never did! The sweet long summer days came, and many a bright +and happy one Peggy spent with her kind friend, but they never found the +white cottage on the hill. Peggy knew it so well in her mind, she felt +she could not mistake it, but though she saw many white cottages which +any one else _might_ have thought was it, she knew better. And each +time, though she sighed a little, she hoped again. + +But before another summer came round Peggy and her father and mother, +and Thor, and Terry, and Hal, and Baldwin, and Baby had all gone +away--far away to the south, many hours' journey from the dingy town +and the Fernley Road, and the queer old house in the back street where +lived the cobbler and old Mother Whelan and Brown Smiley and Light +Smiley and all the rest of them. Far away too from the hills and the +strange white speck in the distance which Peggy called her cottage. + +So it never was more than a dream to her after all, and perhaps--perhaps +it was best so? For nothing has ever spoilt the sweetness and the +mystery of the childish fancy--she can see it with her mind's eye +still--the soft white speck on the far-away, blue hills--she can see it +and think of it and make fancies about it even now--now that she has +climbed a long, long way up the mountain of life, and will soon be +creeping slowly down the other side, where the sun still shines, +however, and there are even more beautiful things to hope for than the +sweetest dreams of childhood. + + +THE END + + + _Printed by_ R. & R. CLARK, _Edinburgh._ + + * * * * * + +Transcriber's Notes: + +Obvious punctuation errors repaired. + +Page 16, caption of illustration, "accomodate" changed to "accommodate" +(to accommodate the whole) + +Page 47, word "a" added to text (it a waste of time) + +Page 101, the text mentions a "Ferndale Road". There are many references +elsewhere to "Fernley Road" so this might be a misprint. It was +retained. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Little Miss Peggy, by Mrs. Molesworth + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LITTLE MISS PEGGY *** + +***** This file should be named 36015.txt or 36015.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/3/6/0/1/36015/ + +Produced by David Edwards, Emmy and the Online Distributed +Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was +produced from images generously made available by The +Internet Archive) + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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