In the early morning Captain D'Arcy returned to his aunt.
"She is alive, Aunt, but very badly burnt. I am afraid she may not recover."
And this was the fear of both nurses and doctors who attended her.
The days and nights seemed a long delirium of pain and fever to Peggy. But the day came when she recovered consciousness, and began to inquire where she was.
"In a hosspital," she repeated weakly; "and, has missus got another girl to do my work? What's been the matter with me?"
"You got burnt," said the nurse gently; "but you are getting better. Don't think about it."
Peggy moved her head restlessly on the pillow; then she put one of her bandaged hands to her head.
"I feel so light-headed; where be my hair? Have you cropped me like the workhouse girls?" A frightened look was in her eyes.
The nurse wondered at her vanity.
"Your hair was burnt," she said. "It had to be cut off."