But when she bent over Albert Edward and found he held a lady's shoe in his mouth, she looked up at the blacksmith with a doubtful face.
"You don't think, sir, that he 've a-killed and eaten 'er?"
They found the drawing room empty, but the window open.
The blacksmith made light of it. "Your visitor found his welcome too hot for my girl. Look about and see if there be anything missing. It don't look as if he have taken anything."
Peggy made a minute inspection of the room.
"No, everythink be right. You don't think really that Albert Edward—"
The blacksmith lifted up his head, and gave a hearty laugh.
"I don't think he swallowed 'im, my girl; no, I don't indeed. Keep the shoo, and we'll put the pleece on his track. Are you 'feared of bein' left?"
"Not a bit!" said sturdy Peggy. "'E won't show his nose agen with me and Albert Edward here."
By the time the Miss Churchhills arrived, Peggy had come to the conclusion that she had been at last what she had long wished to be—a real heroine.