“Oh, it can’t be,” she said in dismay. “I can’t have been here three hours. What must you think of me?”
Peggy looked at her in a surprise more soothing to the girl’s sensitive pride than any amount of polite protest.
“Why, I’ve enjoyed every minute,” she said simply. “And I think we’re beginning to see daylight, don’t you?”
“Indeed I do. I didn’t believe that such puzzling things could get so clear in one afternoon. And I can’t begin to thank you.” Lucy gathered up her belongings and made a hasty exit, while Peggy followed her out upon the porch.
“Hasn’t Dorothy come yet, girls? Then wait a minute.” This last to Lucy. “I’ll get my hat and walk part way with you. I told Dorothy she might play with little Annie Cole this afternoon but it’s time she was home.”
The two girls had covered about half the distance to the farmhouse, when they were met by Rosetta Muriel who nodded, cordially to Peggy, and stiffly to her companion. “We thought it was time Annie was coming home,” she explained. “Ma said you folks would get tired having her ’round. So I was just going for her.”
The color had receded from Peggy’s face in the course of this explanation. “Annie! Why, I thought–”
“Ma told her she could go over to play with Dorothy. Didn’t she come?”
“Why, I haven’t seen her. I told Dorothy she might go to play with Annie.”
There was a frightened catch in Peggy’s voice. Rosetta Muriel hastened to reassure her, though with a distinct touch of patronage.