"They talks gibberish; Hindustani mostly, but there be several mixed-up langwidges which be past me altogether."
Peggy's face fell. "And you've seen a missionary?"
"Yes. Is he a natural curiosity, do you think? They ain't much in my line, missionaries ain't, nor yet in the captin's, so we didn't introduce ourselves. They be just a set o' parsons, and has churches and schools same as in England."
"But," said Peggy hesitatingly, "there be some women and girl missionaries out in Indy, I knows there be."
"You're quite right; I've seen a few. But they keeps theirselves to their schools and such-like. They ain't in the captin's set, nor in mine."
He laughed as he spoke.
Peggy, for a wonder, subsided, but she thought the more. And then one day she saw Captain D'Arcy himself.
Nesbitt was out for the afternoon, and Peggy took tea into the library. Mrs. Dale had been called away on business, and her nephew lay on a couch by the fire, covered with a fur rug. Peggy regarded him with reverence and awe; but not all her training by her former mistresses, nor by Nesbitt, had cured her of beginning conversations with any and every one that she saw.
"Please, sir, I hopes you're feelin' better," she said, as she carefully put down the tea-tray.
Captain D'Arcy turned a surprised and languid look upon her, then a twinkle came into his eyes.