“Eh?” cried Compton.
“Yes; I’m going to make a retreat before my first communion—that is, as much as I can. Of course I’ll work just the same.”
In like manner he conveyed his intentions to Peggy, who thought it a capital idea. And during these three days the company derived no end of innocent merriment from the pantomime performances of Peggy and the boy, who really kept silence, but who nevertheless showed an extraordinary ability in conveying his emotions by gestures and motions and facial expression. On the whole, Peggy and Bobby during these three days had the time of their lives. It must be stated that Bobby more than once fell from grace, and made an attempt at starting a conversation. But Peggy, older by two years, was resolute. Up went her finger to the mouth, while reproach, gentle but sincere, shone from her eyes.
Only once did Peggy fail in her duty as directress of this unusual retreat. On the third day Bobby handed her a note.
“Miss Peggy: I go to communion to-morrow at the eight-o’clock Mass. This is to let you know. Your pal,
“Bobby.”
Peggy in the course of these three days had received twenty-four written communications from her pal. They were all carefully preserved among her treasured possessions.
“Oh, Bobby,” she exclaimed on the reading of this, the twenty-fifth, “may I sit next to you, and go up alongside and receive with you?”
“I was hoping you would ask that,” returned Bobby. “I won’t miss mother so much.”
And then with bright and flashing eyes they broke into a conversation which would not interest the reader, but which, I am sure, was listened to with loving attention by at least two angels. How long they would have continued is beyond conjecture had not Miss Bernadette Vivian happened along.