"A SICK CAPTAIN!"
"YES, Mrs. Creak, 'tis me right enough! And how do you be? Ain't you astonished to see me? And ain't I growed? Does I look nice? I hopes as how I does, for I've put on my Sunday best to come and see you."
It was Peggy who spoke. She stood in the little sweet-shop, and it seemed to her as she saw Mrs. Creak, with her mending basket behind the counter, as if it were only yesterday she had been there.
Mrs. Creak put down her spectacles, and came out of her corner to gather her into her arms and kiss her.
"Dearie me! Who'd have thought it? I always felt you'd do well, Peggy. You were so set on service. You look quite fat and rosy. Let me have a good sight of you!"
Peggy could bear inspection. She was in a neat black coat and gown, a white tie round her throat, and a white straw hat with black ribbon on her head.
Not pretty. Our Peggy would never be that, but fresh and bright and happy, and Mrs. Creak nodded with smiling content at her.
"Now tell me how you be back in London? You must come into my back parlour, and we'll have a cup o' tea together. Mine be just ready."
She led the way into a shining little parlour, with a bright fire in the grate, and a tabby cat in full possession of the small gay-coloured hearthrug.
Peggy proceeded to give an account of herself.