Peggy O'Neal

by Alfred Henry Lewis

It was settled that I should make company for Noah when he saw the Cravens.

“But don't interfere for a word, Major,” exhorted the General, with a world of earnestness. “You do right well when the quarry is a bear or the enemy no more subtile than an Indian. But now the foe is a woman, you might better fall to the rear and leave leadership to Noah. You are monstrous ignorant of woman.”

The Cravens lived no breathless distance up Georgetown way. Not far from their doorstep, Noah and I encountered the Reverend Campbell, who seemed shaken by the meeting.

“Nothing could be better,” cried Noah, cheerfully, claiming the Reverend Campbell's arm. “You shall present the Major and myself to the ladies. And please permit me to do the talking; you may have your turn at the conversation when we leave.”

The two women were bilious, lime-faced folk, and the daughter notably ugly. I was something stiff, I fear; but Noah, when introduced by the Reverend Campbell, showed as balmy as a day in May. He swept the pair with rapid glance and then turned to the daughter.

“I shall pitch upon the one I deem the more manageable,” said Noah, on our journey to the house, “and when I commence to talk with her, you engage with the other.”

Having this hint in my mind, when Noah began to address the daughter I favored the mother with a word or two on safe topics, principally the weather and the condition of the roads. For all that, I could tell how the mother, like myself, had her ears laid back to catch the words of the others. Her suspicions were upon us from the start, even with the guaranty of the Reverend Campbell's company. As for that perturbed animal, he looked only upon the floor, saying never a syllable, and rubbing one warty hand with the other in a composite of doubt and trepidation. The tragic wrath of the General still sang in the hare-hearted creature's head.

“We are being shown about by our reverend friend,” I heard Noah say; “we were asked to make a few calls with him and meet the better folk. We were too glad, I assure you; I grow vastly weary of nobody save the politicians and nothing better to talk of than politics.”

To say that I was startled at these gay, glib fictions on the lips of my companion would fall behind the fact; I was amazed. But I also had the General's command to leave leadership to Noah, and so stood mute. I let my gaze go for a moment to the Reverend Campbell to come by some thought of how he took the trend of Noah's surprising discourse. I saw naught beyond the top of his head, as, bowed forward in his chair, he appeared to study his toes, meanwhile twiddling and rubbing his nobby fingers.

As for the women, they knew no argument of fact or otherwise for distrusting Noah's statements. I should have before explained that neither possessed the least of glimmer as to our identity or nearness to the General. Indeed, they lived ignorant, we found later, of the letters of that Ely ill-using Peg's name, and of the Reverend Campbell's visit to the General paid that morning. Thus, it fell about that the daughter sailed off with Noah on a current of conversation in the dark, and the mother just as blind.