Peggy's hopes were again dashed to the ground.
"'Tis no good, Peggy," she murmured to herself. "Teacher won't never help yer. She thinks you too bad."
She went to church, and when she bent her head in prayer before the service began, this was her petition—
"Oh God! You'll understand, if she don't. And please find me a place as good as that there leper capting's, and send me clothes, and let aunt let me go. For Jesus Christ's sake, Amen."
Then she lifted her head with bright hope shining in her eyes.
"God 'll do it better than teacher. He's sure to have heard me to-day, 'cause it's in church."
She went home comforted, and through the whole of that day, her busy brain was thinking over the story of the little captive maid.
"I'd like to do somethin' grand like that. In the first place I gets, I'll try. I'll go to a place where there's a ill gent, and I'll tell him—I'll tell him of them there pills that cured aunt's cousin, and if he'll try 'em and get well, 'twould be grand for me. O' course, 'twouldn't be like tellin' him of a prophet, but teacher says there's no prophets now. But it's easy to do grand things in service. If I never gets a place, it's no good thinkin' of 'em."
And so with alternate hopes and fears, Sunday wore away. Not once did she got chance of looking at her precious cap, but the knowledge of her possession was joy to her.