“Very highly.”
“May I have it?”
It seemed shame to hesitate, and yet I did, while Peg stood with wistful face.
“Why,” said I at last, “I meant it for the one I should love.”
“Oh, you meant it for her whom you would love! And do you look to see it again after that? The coral is mine from this moment.”
With a swish of her skirts Peg was gone; and with her went the coral.
Peg betimes would lay out her campaign for the coming winter. It was then she talked of Van Buren, “the good little secretary,” as Peg named him. Van Buren went often to the Eatons; and on each of those kind excursions he climbed ever higher with the General and with me.
“Not only,” said Peg, assuming a wise pucker of the brow as she recounted how she should wage and win her social war, “not only shall I preside for our good little secretary at dinners and receptions, but he has brought to me the Viscount Vaughn, who is minister for the English, and Baron Krudener, who is here, as you know, for the Russians; and they, since they own no wives to help them, also have besought me to be at the head of their legation functions. And with the White House back of all, what then will Mrs. Calhoun and her followers do! Watch-dog we have them routed!” Here Peg's rich laugh would ring out for victory on its way.
Peg, on another day, would shake her head with soft solemnity.
“I do so wish some one watched over me.” Peg spoke in contemplative earnestness. “If I could find a fault in a best of husbands, it must be that he doesn't watch over me.”