"What has she done now?"
"She has pinned newspapers all over herself to preserve her gown and apron. She looks like a walking edition of the 'Times!' And when I remonstrated, she said the coals and kitchen grate would soil her clothes. Can't you hear her crackling as she moves about?"
Helen laughed heartily.
"Don't hurt her feelings. I don't think she has ever possessed a cotton frock before. She will soon get accustomed to it, and, after all, such extreme cleanliness ought to be encouraged."
In a few days Ivy Cottage presented a tidy aspect. Helen and Joyce felt that their rooms, if tiny, were cosy and even pretty. And Peggy's gratification was great when the stairs were carpeted. She took a keen interest in her new surroundings and learnt to use the possessive case pretty freely.
It was "my kitchen," "my kettle," "I'm sweepin' my draw'n' room," or "dustin' my dinin' room bookcase." Everything—upstairs and down—belonged to her, and "my house, my garding, and my missuses" formed the chief topic of conversation with any passing villager. She found she had a great deal to learn, but she was so willing and anxious to please, that Joyce, who took her in hand, forgave her ignorance and awkwardness, and prophesied to her sister that though at present a rough diamond, she might prove worth her weight in gold.
Mrs. Creak meanwhile looked out anxiously for Peggy's first letter.
The Board School had certainly taught her to read and write, and though the letter arrived with many an ink-smudge and blot, it was quite decipherable.
"MY DEAR MRS. CREAK,—I'm going to write to you for this is Sunday and I've been to church, and I let you no that the cuntry aint clean at all, but downrite filthy, for I never seed mud like it in London. There is no lamps or shops when tis dark so you falls down anyweres in a ditch or pond and no pleece picks you up for there is none of them.
"Old men wears their shirts over their coats to come to church. Farms has hunderds of feerce animals kep roun them which you has to walk thro, and they all tries to kep you away from the door, and cows and bulls walks along the road all day. There is no shops noweres.
"My place is fine and I has butter to eat evry day. I has many hunderds of things to take care of. I treds on carpets evry day. I spilt tea over my apron I trys to be clean. There is more to dirt me than our room in London. My missuses are nice ladys. I am quite well as I hopes it leaves you at present.
"Your friend,
"MARGARET PERKINS.
"P. S.—Nex Sunday I goes to Sunday School. Please give my love to Missus Jones."
"Well," said Mrs. Creak, folding up the letter and taking off her spectacles, "girls is different to when I was young! The country too dirty for her! What next! Nought about the sweet, pure air and blue sky and singing birds, and green grass and trees and hedgerows. Her eyes never gets higher than the mud! I'm ashamed on her, that I be!"