“It was awfully good of you to bring me home. I wasn’t afraid—not really—only it’s so comfortable not to have to be not afraid. Good night.”
And as he went through the gate, she called again.
“Good night I’ll be up to you early.”
Archibald walked home with the friendly, childish voice ringing in his ears and in his heart an unaccountably fervent thankfulness that she surely would be “up to him early.” Morning—even a June morning—wouldn’t, be a cheerful thing with Pegeen away.
VII
The next day was a momentous one at the shack. Archibald and Pegeen started their garden and Wiggles was taken into the family. The garden came along according to plan but Wiggles was accidental. Peggy brought him with her when she arrived in the morning and the first intimation of his presence came to Archibald with a request for an antiseptic bandage.
“I saw you had some in your trunk, and it’s time for you to get up anyway,” Peggy called through the bedroom door.
“Are you hurt?” he asked in alarm.
“No, I’m all right. It’s a dog. I guess it was an automobile. Anyway its leg’s hurt.”
The explanation was hardly lucid but Archibald gathered that first aid measures were being taken for the dog not for the automobile.