"No," said his father, "we'll do finely, Bill, without 'em."
"So you will," said Peggy brightly, taking her departure; "and I'll give you a look up agen soon, mister; and you just do what I was a-tellin' you of. 'Tis easy if you sets your mind to it."
[CHAPTER IX]
"I'M A-GOIN' BACK TO LONDON!"
ONE Monday morning Peggy was very busy making raspberry jam under Helen's superintendence. Joyce had gone away for a week's visit to some friends, and Helen was alone. Helen had just left the kitchen and gone upstairs to get some jam papers, when Peggy heard a terrible crash and heavy fall. She rushed out of the kitchen and, to her horror, found that her mistress had fallen the whole length of the narrow flight of stairs, and, in falling, had struck her head with considerable violence against a corner of the wainscoting. She was lying unconscious at the foot of the stairs, and blood was oozing slowly out from a cut on her head.
For a moment Peggy lost her presence of mind. She uttered a loud shriek, and rushing to the front door screamed, "Help! Murder! Thieves! Fire!"
No one heard her cries, and, as she afterwards remarked, "'Twas as well, for it were lies I shouted, but the words wouldn't come proper, I were so full of horror, but I knowed the very worst had happened, and so the worst slipped off my tongue!"
As no help came, she recovered herself, and valiantly tried to raise poor Helen from the ground. This she found she could not do, so she fetched a basin of warm water and a sponge, and bathed the cut, tying a large pocket-handkerchief round it, and then, after placing a pillow under Helen's head, dashed out of the house. Albert Edward darted after her with a delightful bark, but he was ordered back immediately.
"Stay with missus, you bad dog, and take care of her till the doctor comes!"
So back Albert Edward went, and lay down across Helen's feet with a little wistful sigh. Peggy sped on to Mrs. Timson's, who was fortunately at home.