'I wish we did go out just every now and then, though,' said Peggy, who occasionally had ambitions after gaiety. 'I haven't been anywhere except to Miss Forster's or the Rectory since I was at the Middletons last year. The girls were all talking about parties at school, after the Christmas holidays, and I hadn't been to a single one, or the pantomime either, and we never get to any of the concerts at the Spa Gardens. The Harpers have asked me to their dance next Wednesday, but Father won't let me go. I wish he would, just for once. It seems so hard never to do anything like other girls, doesn't it?'
'It is so difficult, darling, to get you home. You would catch cold if you came out of hot rooms and drove home at night in the open trap, and it is dreadfully expensive to hire a cab from Warford. Besides, you would want new shoes and gloves, and silk stockings, even if your bridesmaid's dress would be smart enough. If only I had had that money Aunt Helen sent me on my birthday, you should have gone, but I spent it every penny on Bobby's cricket flannels, and I don't like to ask Father for more. You see, we are trying to be so very careful just now. You and Bobby are not learning dancing this term, and I have even given up my music-lessons'—with a wistful sigh, for that had been a sore wrench to poor Lilian.
'So you have, Lily mine, and never growled at all over it! I'm a horrid little wretch, and I wouldn't have taken Aunt Helen's present, even if you had had it left. I don't really care about parties and things. We have ever so much fun out here at the Abbey that the girls who live in Warford never dream of, and it wouldn't be fair to expect both. Easter will soon be here, and Archie will come home, and then we shall all have glorious times again!' And Peggy's momentary discontent vanished like snow in sunshine at the enthralling prospect of several new projects which her ingenious friend intended carrying out, and of the picnics, woodland scrambles, and other delights which the holidays would bring in their train.
But there was yet a month of the term to run, and the little pony-trap must make many more journeys to and from Warford before either Pixie or the children could take a rest, and lessons and school affairs were still matters of the first importance.
Accustomed to a daily account of the doings of both himself and his class-mates, Peggy began to realize about this time that all was not well with Bobby. Instead of being full of his usual fun on the homeward journey, he had scarcely anything to tell her. He had been late for several days at the inn-yard, and had arrived looking so flurried and peculiar that, although he had laughed it off and made some excuse, she was certain that things were not as they should be. The pair had never had any secrets before, so Peggy waited at first for Bobby to tell her, but as the confidence did not seem to be forthcoming, she one day boldly taxed him with it.
'Well,' said Bobby, plucking at the corners of his dog-eared Latin grammar, 'if you really want to know, it's Jones minor. I didn't mean to breathe a word, because I hate to be a sneak, and peach, and all that; but after all, telling you isn't like telling any of the fellows, is it?' anxious for his code of schoolboy honour.
'Of course it's not. What about Jones minor?'
'He bullies me so. He lies in wait for me every afternoon, and I have to dodge ever so to get out of his way. I came round by five back streets to-day, and climbed over a garden wall.'
'How big a boy is he?'
'Oh, he's a fellow of thirteen, I should think, for he's in the fourth form. If he were anywhere near my own size I'd fight him, if I had to do it every day till I licked him. I thrashed Moore last week for punching little Barton's head.'