But the croquet had already begun, so Peggy threw her whole energy into the game. She excelled in all outdoor sports, having a keen eye and a true stroke, and was soon absorbed in making her hoops and helping on her partners, two quiet little girls considerably younger than herself, who seemed never to have played before, to judge by their absolute lack of skill. Peggy was standing waiting for her turn, while the others clustered round a rather difficult stroke of Marjorie Norton's, when she saw Phyllis, whose ball had been left distinctly wired, hurriedly push it with her foot into a better position. Peggy had been accustomed from her babyhood to 'play fair,' so she opened her eyes wide to see such deliberate cheating. Phyllis, who had thought herself unobserved, happened at that moment to look up, and met Peggy's glance, which was certainly not a flattering one. She flushed scarlet, and kicked the ball back to its former place.
'I only moved it by accident,' she said haughtily. 'You have no need to glare at me like that!'
Peggy dropped her eyes and strolled away. It was a little incident, and she had not spoken a word, yet she had an unpleasant feeling that the mere fact of having noticed the act had made her an enemy.
'Ver' good!' Mademoiselle was saying. 'A splendide stroke! You shall take two hoops, and send ze black ball avay. Tiens! You have missed! It is zen ze turn of Mees Marguerite.'
Peggy's next piece of play was so brilliant that it decided the game, and, to the great delight of her little partners, they all pegged out, amid the cold applause of their opponents and the ecstatic admiration of Mademoiselle.
All the guests were now summoned to tea, which was set out on little tables under the trees, and showed a tempting display of cakes and strawberries and cream, while attentive servants bustled about with cups and plates. Much against her inclinations, Peggy found herself sitting side by side with Phyllis Norton. Bobby was a long way off, among a jolly set of boys, whose shouts of laughter Peggy listened to with wistful ears, and her small partners had been borne away by an elder sister. Phyllis sat for some time stealing glances at Peggy from under her lashes.
'I believe we passed you this afternoon, coming here,' she remarked at last. 'Weren't you driving that queer little pony-cart?'
'Yes; your coachman nearly ran over us. I don't think he's a very good driver,' replied Peggy.
'Oh, Wilkins always takes the middle of the road, and makes everyone else get out of the way,' said Phyllis calmly. 'Do you live at this side of Warford? I don't remember seeing you before.'
'We live at Gorswen Abbey,' answered Peggy.