But resolving to allow events to take their course without a protest, Peggy had failed to reckon with her inborn inability to shirk responsibility. The formula which acts as a sedative to so many consciences, "It's none of my business," had never proved effective in her case. And though she stuck to her resolution on the first day, the developments of the second proved too much for her. It was late on that afternoon when she noticed a flutter at one of the adjacent counters, and discovered to her astonishment, that the occasion of the excitement was an acquaintance of her own, no other than the husband of Elvira Bond.
Peggy had always felt a certain responsibility for Elvira, due to the fact that she had known the good-natured, slatternly girl ever since she could remember. Mrs. Bond had done the Raymonds' washing, off and on for many years, less because of her excellence as a laundress, than because she needed the work. Then Elvira had grown up, and taken her mother's place at the wash-tubs. The year of America's entry into the war she had unexpectedly married a young man considerably above her in the social scale, who had immediately been called to the colors.
Elvira's romance had been her awakening. To Peggy's attentive ear she had confided her dawning aspirations. "Joe likes things neat and clean," she explained, a little wistfulness in her voice. "Not cluttered up the way Ma keeps 'em. And I'd hate to make him ashamed of me."
"Of course you would," Peggy had cried. "And there's not a bit of need, Elvira. Why, of course you can keep your house as nice as anybody's. All you've got to do is to make up your mind that you will."
In the absence of the young husband Peggy had a watchful eye on Elvira. She had done her best to keep alive the girl's newly awakened ambitions, in spite of the discouraging home atmosphere. And after Joe's return she had frequently gone to see Elvira in the little home the young couple had purchased, and were paying for on the installment plan. In view of the girl's bringing up, it is hardly surprising that she had her relapses; but on the whole, Peggy was proud of her. Elvira worked hard, was developing a commendable thrift, and was extremely proud of her little home and of her baby.
It was at one of the bric-a-brac tables that Peggy discovered Elvira's husband, and he seemed, as far as she could judge from his manner and the manner of the women who were calling his attention to one thing after another, on the point of investing largely in the heterogeneous collection. But he happened to look over his shoulder in Peggy's direction, recognized her instantly, and came toward her, his face irradiated by a broad smile.
"Afternoon, Miss Peggy," he exclaimed. "I'm looking around. I'm thinking of buying a few little things to take home to the wife." He slapped his pocket. "It's pay-day, Miss Peggy, and the best ain't none too good for Elvira and the kid, I'll swear it ain't."
Peggy looked at him silently. It was the era of prohibition, yet an unmistakable odor radiated from Joe's person and confirmed the suspicion aroused by his unnatural manner. Peggy's heart sank.
All unconscious of her dismay, Joe was examining her stock. "What's that, Miss Peggy?" He indicated by a gesture the object which had aroused his interest.
"That is a churn, Joe."