“Daddy, drop London! Care I no more for’t. Know I quite enough. Let’s chat of aught else in the world, until you fall a-napping, which will be soon now, guessing by the shadows.”
’Twas very soon.
Then Lady Peggy tiptoed off to her chamber; then she pulled the rope that rang in the kitchen, and presently Chockey came, chopper and bowl in hand, checkered apron over white one; for serving maids were scarce in Kennaston Hall, footmen there were none; butler there was when he was not doing t’other half his duty at the stables.
“Come hither, Chockey,” says her mistress in a whisper, with a beckon. “Shut the door; go on with choppin’ your leeks and carrots, cook’ll want ’em for the soup,—but listen, Chock; unlock your ears Jane Chockey, as never you did before in your life.”
Chockey bobs as she chops, leaning against the headpost, for support of her occupation, and also of her curiosity.
“You know my mother’s box, the small one that was re-covered last spring with the skin of the red calf that died natural? Bickers put it on with a gross of brass nails?”
Chockey again bobs.
“Put into it,” continues Lady Peggy, “a change of linen for yourself and me, two night-rails,” Chockey’s eyes dilate, “my gray taffeta gown with the flowered petticoat, my green hood and kerchief; powder, patch-box, lavender, musk, pins, needles; my red silken hose; your Sunday cap and sleeves”—Chockey’s chopper ceases to work, and the bed-post creaks. “All of which,” continues her mistress, “is but prelude to saying: ‘I’m going up to London by to-morrow’s coach, and I’m takin’ you with me!’”
“Madam!” Down goes the bowl, leeks, carrots, chopper and all a-spilling over the floor.
“Aye,” says Peggy calmly, “gather up thy mess, Chock, and to work with the duds. Lay out my Levantine gown, my blue kerchief, my black silk hose, my brown cloak; and, from my mother’s press, take the thick fall of Brussels lace and the brown bonnet it’s tied to, and bring ’em hither; put them under the bed beside thy trundle so’s my father’ll not see ’em when he stops to bid me good-night. Borrow cook’s hat she bought at the Fair when she was young, and her delaine veil for thyself; for, so appareled as not to be recognized, will you, dear Chock, and my Lady Peggy take the coach on April the twelfth. But, Chock, remember, mum’s the word, an you let your tongue wag to my undoing, but the thousandth part of a syllable, your mistress and you part company forever! Go.”