In consideration of Arthur’s presence and of the late hours and excitement of the night before, the next day was observed as a holiday in the vicarage. Mrs Asplin stayed in bed until lunch-time, the boys went for a bicycle ride, and Peggy and her brother had a delightful chat together by the schoolroom fire, when he told her more details about his own plans than he had been able to touch upon in a dozen letters.
“The preliminary examination for Sandhurst begins on the 26th this year,” he explained, “and so far as I can make out I shall romp through it. I am going to take all the subjects in Class One—mathematics, Latin, French, geometrical drawing, and English composition; I’ll astonish them in the last subject! Plenty of dash and go, eh, Peggy,—that’s the style to fetch ’em! In Class Two you can only take two subjects, so I’m going in for chemistry and physics. I rather fancy myself in physics, and if I don’t come out at the head of the list, or precious near the head, it won’t be for want of trying. I have worked like a nigger these last six months; between ourselves, I thought I had worked too hard a few days ago; I felt so stupid and dizzy, and my head ached until I could hardly open my eyes. If I had not come away, I believe I should have broken down, but I’m better already, and by Tuesday I shall be as fit as a fiddle. I hope I do well, it would be so jolly to cable out the news to the old pater; and I say, Peg, I don’t mean to leave Sandhurst without bringing home something to keep as a souvenir. At the end of each Christmas term a sword is presented to the cadet who passes out first in the final exam.—‘The Anson Memorial Sword.’ Mariquita!”—Arthur smote his breast, and struck a fierce and warlike attitude,—“that sword is mine! In the days to come, when you are old and grey-headed, you will see that rusty blade hanging over my ancestral hearth, and tell in faltering tones the story of the gallant youth who wrested it from his opponents.”
“Ha, ha!” responded Peggy deeply. There was no particular meaning in the exclamation, but it seemed right and fitting in the connection, and had a smack of melodrama which was quite to her taste. “Of course you will be first, Arthur!” she added; “and, oh dear! how proud I shall be when I see you in all your uniform! I am thankful all my men relatives are soldiers, they are so much more interesting than civilians. It would break my heart to think of you as a civilian! Of course wars are somewhat disconcerting, but then one always hopes there won’t be wars.”
“I don’t!” cried Arthur loudly. “No, no—active service for me, and plenty of it!
“‘Come one, come all, this rock shall fly
From its firm base as soon as I!’
“That’s my motto, and my ambition is the Victoria Cross, and I’ll get that too before I’m done; you see if I don’t! It’s the ambition of my life, Peg. I lie awake and think of that little iron cross; I go to sleep and dream of it, and see the two words dancing before my eyes in letters of fire, ‘For Valour,’ ‘For Valour,’ ‘For Valour.’ Ah!”—he drew a deep breath of excitement—“I don’t think there is anything in the world I should envy, if I could only gain that.”
Peggy gazed at him with kindling eyes. “You are a soldier’s son,” she said, “and the grandson of a soldier, and the great-grandson of a soldier; it’s in your blood; you can’t help it—it’s in my blood too, Arthur! I give you my solemn word of honour that if the French or Germans came over to invade this land, I’d—” Peggy seized the ruler and waved it in the air with a gesture of fiercest determination—“I’d fight them! There! I’d shoot at them; I’d go out and spike the guns; I’d—I’d climb on the house-tops and throw stones at them. You needn’t laugh, I tell you I should be terrible! I feel as if I could face a whole regiment myself. The spirit—the spirit of my ancestors is in my breast, Arthur Reginald, and woe betide that enemy who tries to wrest from me my native land!” Peggy went off into a shriek of laughter, in which Arthur joined, until the sound of the merry peals reached Mrs Asplin’s ears as she lay wearily on her pillow, and brought a smile to her pale face. “Bless the dears! How happy they are!” she murmured to herself; nor even suspected that it was a wholesale massacre of foreign nations which had been the cause of this gleeful outburst.
Arthur left the vicarage on Tuesday evening, seemingly much refreshed by the few days’ change, though he still complained of his head, and pressed his hand over his eyes from time to time as though in pain. The parting from Peggy was more cheerful than might have been expected, for in a few more weeks Christmas would be at hand, when, as he himself expressed it, he hoped to return with blushing honours thick upon him. Peggy mentally expended her whole ten pounds in a present for the dear handsome fellow, and held her head high in the consciousness of owning a brother who was destined to be Commander-in-Chief of the British forces in the years to come.
The same evening Robert returned from his visit to London. He had heard of Peggy’s escapade from his father and sister, and was by no means so grateful as that young lady had expected.
“What in all the world possessed you to play such a mad trick?” he queried bluntly. “It makes me ill to think of it. Rushing off to London on a wet, foggy night, never even waiting to inquire if there was a return train, or to count if you had enough money to see you through! Goodness only knows what might have happened! You are careless enough in an ordinary way, but I must say I gave you credit for more sense than that.”
“Well, but, Rob,” pleaded Peggy, aggrieved, “I don’t think you need scold! I did it for you, and I thought you would be pleased.”
“Did you indeed? Well, you are mightily mistaken; I wouldn’t have let you do a thing like that for all the microscopes in the world. I don’t care a rap for the wretched old microscope.”
“Oh! oh!”
“In comparison, I mean. Of course I should have been glad to get it if it had come to me in an ordinary way, but I was not so wrapped up in the idea that I would not have been reasonable, if you had come to me quietly and explained that you had missed the post.”
Peggy shook her head sagely. “You think so now, because the danger is over, and you are sure it can’t happen. But I know better. I can tell you exactly what would have happened. You wouldn’t have stormed or raged, it would have been better if you had, and sooner over; you would just have stood still, and—glared at me! When I’d finished speaking, you would have swallowed two or three times over, as if you were gulping down something which you dared not say, and then turned on your heel and marched out of the room. That’s what you would have done, my dear and honourable sir, and you know it!”
Robert hung his head and looked self-conscious.
“Well, if I had! A fellow can’t hide all he feels in the first moment of disappointment. But I should have got over it, and you know very well that I should never have brought it up against you. ‘Glared!’ What if I did glare? There is nothing very terrible in that, is there?”
“Yes, there is. I could not have borne it, when I had been trying so hard to help you. And it would not have been only the first few minutes. Every time when you were quiet and depressed, when you looked at your specimens through your little old glass and sighed, and pitched it away, as I’ve seen you do scores and scores of times, I should have felt that it was my fault, and been in the depths of misery. No, no, I’m sorry to the depths of my heart that I scared dear Mrs Asplin and the rest, but it is a matter of acute satisfaction to me to know that your chance has in no way been hindered by your confidence in me!” and Peggy put her head on one side, and coughed in a faint and ladylike manner, which brought the twinkle back into Robert’s eyes.
“Good old Mariquita!” he cried, laughing. “‘Acute satisfaction’ is good, Mariquita—decidedly good! You will make your name yet in the world of letters. Well, as I said before, you are a jolly little brick, and the best partner a fellow ever had! Mind you, I tell you straight that I think you behaved badly in cutting off like that; but I’ll stand by you to the others, and not let them sit upon you while I am there.”
“Thanks!” said Peggy meekly. “But, oh, I beseech of you, don’t bring up the subject if you can help it! I’m tired to death of it all! The kindest thing you can do is to talk hard about something else, and give them a fresh excitement to think about. Talk about—about—about Rosalind if you will; anything will do—only, for pity’s sake, leave me alone, and pretend there is not such a thing in the world as a calendar!”
“Right you are!” said Robert, laughing. “I’ll steer clear of the rocks! And as it happens, I have got a piece of news that will put your doings into the background at one fell swoop. Rosalind is going to give a party! The Earl and Countess of Berkhampton are coming down to the Larches the week after next, and are going to bring their two girls with them. They are great lanky things, with about as much ‘go’ in the pair as in one of your little fingers; but this party is to be given in their honour. The mater has asked everyone of a right age within a dozen miles around, and the house will be crammed with visitors. Your card is coming to-morrow, and I hope you will give me the honour of the first round, and as many as possible after that.”
“The first, with pleasure; I won’t promise any more until I see how we get on. It doesn’t seem appropriate to think of your dancing, Rob; there is something too heavy and serious in your demeanour. Oswald is different; he would make a charming dancing master. Oh, it will be an excitement! Mellicent will not be able to eat or sleep for thinking of it; and poor Mrs Asplin will be running up seams on the sewing-machine, and making up ribbon bows from this day to that. I’m glad I have a dress all ready, and shan’t be bothered with any trying on! You don’t know what it is to stand first on one leg and then on the other, to be turned and pulled about as if you were a dummy, and have pins stuck into you as if you were a pin-cushion! I adore pretty clothes, but every time I go to the dressmaker’s I vow and declare that I shall take to sacks. Tell them at dinner, do, and they will talk about it for the rest of the evening!”
Peggy’s prophecy came true, for the subject of Rosalind’s party became a topic of such absorbing interest as left room for little else during the next few weeks. New dresses had to be bought and made for the girls, and Peggy superintended the operations of the village dressmaker with equal satisfaction to herself and her friends.
Rosalind appeared engrossed in preparations, and two or three times a week, as the girls trudged along the muddy roads, with Fr?ulein lagging in the rear, the jingle of bells would come to their ears, and Rosalind’s two white long-tailed ponies would come dashing past, drawing the little open carriage in which their mistress sat, half-hidden among a pile of baskets and parcels. She was always beautiful and radiant, and as she passed she would turn her head over her shoulders and look at the three mud-bespattered pedestrians with a smile of pitying condescension, which made Peggy set her teeth and draw her eyebrows together in an ominous frown.
One day she condescended to stop and speak a few words from her throne among the cushions.
“How de do? So sowwy not to have been to see you! Fwightfully busy, don’t you know. We are decowating the wooms, and don’t know how to finish in time. It’s going to be quite charming!”
“We know! We know! Rob told us. I’m dying to see it. You should ask Peggy to help you, if you are in a hurry. She’s s–imply splendid at decorations! Mother says she never knew anyone so good at it as Peggy!” cried Mellicent, with an outburst of gushing praise, in acknowledgment of which she received a thunderous frown and such a sharp pinch on the arm as penetrated through all her thick winter wrappings.
Rosalind, however, only ejaculated, “Oh, weally!” in an uninterested manner, and whipped up her ponies without taking any further notice of the suggestion; but it had taken root in her mind all the same, and she did not forget to question her brother on the first opportunity.
Mellicent Asplin had said that Peggy Saville was clever at decoration. Was it true, and would it be the least use asking her to come and help in the decorations?
Robert laughed, and wagged his head with an air of proud assurance.
Clever! Peggy? She was a witch! She could work wonders! If you set her down in an empty room, and gave her two-and-sixpence to transform it into an Alhambra, he verily believed she could do it. The way in which she had rigged up the various characters for the Shakespeare reading was nothing short of miraculous. Yes, indeed, Peggy would be worth a dozen ordinary helpers. The question was, Would she come?
“Certainly she will come. I’ll send down for her at once,” said Rosalind promptly, and forthwith sat down and wrote a dainty little note, not to Peggy herself, but to Mrs Asplin, stating that she had heard great accounts of Peggy Saville’s skill in the art of decoration, and begging that she might be allowed to come up to the Larches to help with the final arrangements, arriving as early as possible on the day of the party, and bringing her box with her, so as to be saved the fatigue of returning home to dress. It was a prettily worded letter, and Mrs Asplin was dismayed at the manner of its reception.
“No, Peggy Saville won’t!” said that young person, pursing her lips and tossing her head in her most high and mighty manner. “She won’t do anything of the sort! Why should I go? Let her ask some of her own friends! I’m not her friend! I should simply loathe to go!”
“My dear Peggy! When you are asked to help! When this entertainment is given for your pleasure, and you can be of real use—”
“I never asked her to give the party! I don’t care whether I go or not! She is simply making use of me for her own convenience!”
“It is not the first or only time that you have been asked, as you know well, Peggy. And sometimes you have enjoyed yourself very much. You said you would never forget the pink luncheon. In spite of all you say, you owe Rosalind thanks for some pleasant times; and now you can be of some service to her. Well, I’m not going to force you, dear. I hate unwilling workers, and if it’s not in your heart to go, stay at home, and settle with your conscience as best you can.”
Peggy groaned with sepulchral misery.
“Wish I hadn’t got no conscience! Tiresome, presuming thing—always poking itself forward and making remarks when it isn’t wanted. I suppose I shall have to go, and run about from morning till night, holding a pair of scissors, and nasty little balls of string, for Rosalind’s use! Genius indeed! What’s the use of talking about genius? I know very well I shall not be allowed to do anything but run about and wait upon her. It’s no use staring at me, Mrs Asplin. I mean it all—every single word.”
“No, you don’t, Peggy! No, you don’t, my little kind, warm-hearted Peggy! I know better than that! It’s just that foolish tongue that is running away with you, dearie. In your heart you are pleased to do a service for a friend, and are going to put your whole strength into doing it as well and tastefully as it can be done.”
“I’m not! I’m not! I’m not! I’m savage, and it’s no use pretending—”
“Yes, you are! I know it! What is the good of having a special gift if one doesn’t put it to good use? Ah, that’s the face I like to see! I didn’t recognise my Peggy with that ugly frown. I’ll write and say you’ll come with pleasure.”
“It’s to please you, then, not Rosalind!” said Peggy obstinately. But Mrs Asplin only laughed, dropped a kiss upon her cheek, and walked away to answer the invitation forthwith.