"I have made no sacrifices," Mrs. Pringle returned quickly. "But, sometimes it grieves me to think of the bitter feelings Aunt Caroline harbours against me. She considers me ungrateful; I was never that. I do not want her money, but I should like to be on friendly terms with her. It was ten years ago I saw her; she must be getting an old woman."
"She looked very old, mother," Billy said, and as he spoke, Mrs. Pringle started, for in the excitement of talking of her aunt, whom she rarely mentioned now even to her husband, she had forgotten the boy was present, listening to every word.
"Her hair was quite white," he continued, "as white as snow. I didn't like her eyes, they were so very sharp. Oh, mother, how odd that she should be your aunt! And how surprised she would have been, if she had found out that Peggy was your little girl, wouldn't she? I expect she would have been sorry for her, then, don't you think so?"
"I—I—perhaps so," his mother replied, "but she did not find out, and it was best as it was."
She took up the card which her husband had laid on the table and tore it into little bits, which, upon rising, she threw into the fire.
"There, we will talk no more of Aunt Caroline," she said. "Thinking of her always makes me unhappy, and I don't want to be that to-night, when I ought to be feeling nothing but thankfulness on Peggy's account."
A short while later, Mr. Maloney took his departure, and, after that, Billy said good-night to his parents and went upstairs. He peeped into Peggy's room; but did not go in, for Sarah, who was still watching by the bedside, raised a warning finger when she caught sight of him in the doorway. She was to be relieved from her post very soon by her mistress, whose intention it was to sit up all night.
Although Billy was really tired and was soon in bed, it was long before he could get to sleep, for he felt strangely restless and excited; he continually pictured the pair of high-stepping horses which had so nearly trodden his sister beneath their hoofs, and he was haunted by the proud face of the old lady who had appeared so unconcerned.
"She must be very wicked," thought the little boy, "for father said she never forgives any one who offends her. How dreadful that is! Doesn't she know it's wrong, I wonder! And, oh, how strange that she should be mother's aunt! How surprised Peggy will be when she knows!"
Then he forgot Miss Leighton in thinking of Peggy once more. He had not omitted to thank his Father in Heaven, as he had knelt by his bedside before getting into bed, for having spared his sister's life; but his full heart thanked Him again and again as he lay awake mentally reviewing the events of the last few hours, and he fell asleep, at length, with the fervent prayer upon his lips: