While he spoke it was abruptly borne in on John Musgrave’s consciousness that he would miss, besides Diogenes, these surreptitious visits of Peggy Annersley’s to which he was growing accustomed, though he did not always see her when she slipped in at his back entrance; but when he purposely put himself in the way, as upon the present occasion, he felt increasingly obliged to Diogenes, and to the accident of circumstances that was responsible for bringing her there.
“I believe,” Peggy said unexpectedly, “that I shall be rather sorry when that day comes. It’s such fun sharing a jolly secret like this. There is a feeling of adventure... a sort of alliance of conspiracy. If Moresby only knew!”
If Moresby did not actually know, it suspected more than Miss Annersley guessed, and it was beginning to talk. Mr Musgrave’s reputation, which had stood the test of years, was suddenly observed to be inclining dangerously, upsetting the popular belief in the rocklike foundations of its structural character; suggesting, indeed, the sandy nature of the soil which formed its basis. The best of servants will talk; and, save for Martha, Mr Musgrave’s servants were not superior in this respect to any others. Miss Peggy Annersley’s visits to Mr Musgrave’s establishment were fairly generally known and discussed in the village.
“When I take Diogenes from you,” Peggy added, “you will have to come and visit him. He’ll feel hurt if you don’t.”
“I shall come,” John Musgrave answered quietly, “often. After all, I have a certain right in the dog.”
Peggy nodded.
“He’s yours and mine,” she rejoined, with a beautiful disregard for the fact that Diogenes was in reality Mr Chadwick’s property. “He’s really more yours than mine, because he would have had to go to strangers if you hadn’t saved him, and then I should never have seen him again. It’s rather amusing being joint owners in a dog. Do you remember telling me you didn’t like dogs? I knew you must be mistaken.”
“I am beginning to believe,” he replied, “that that was only one of many mistaken ideas. It is, as a matter of fact, a mistake to express a decided opinion on any subject in which one is inexperienced.”
Peggy glanced at him with newly-kindled interest, a little puzzled as well as pleased at his frank admission. Then meeting his gaze fully she abruptly lowered her own, and looked delightfully shy.
“I think,” she said irrelevantly, “I’ll take Diogenes for his walk.”