It was a very good supper, though Peggy, sitting pale and heavy-eyed, at the end of the table, ate little of it. Strawberry preserves, and some of Sally's fruit cookies, had helped out so nicely that it had not been necessary to do much cooking, and in Dick's present state of penitence he would have eaten pine shavings and sworn that they were delicious. As he watched Skits, gorging himself with preserves, Dick suddenly realized that the supper invitation was not at all in accordance with Skits' deserts. "I'd ought to have punched his head when he acted as if he didn't believe about Peggy's cooking," thought Dick, scowling darkly at his unconscious guest. "Just as though everybody along the Terrace didn't know that she's got 'em all skinned."
Unconscious of the regrets disturbing their host's peace of mind, Skits and Tom made out an excellent meal, and withdrew to the next room to examine some new stamps Dick had recently added to his collection. Priscilla, who had quite recovered from her little pique, pushed Peggy into the rocking-chair, when she attempted to assist with the work.
"You sit still," she scolded. "Don't you dare move! I'll be through the dishes in no time."
The offer was too tempting to refuse. Peggy sat in the kitchen rocking-chair, where Sally rested when her daily labors were over, and watched Priscilla as she proceeded deftly with the work. "It seems a shame," she said, but without conviction, "to leave everything to you."
"Nonsense! As if you weren't always doing things for other people." Priscilla crossed the room to lower the shade and stood transfixed. "I thought Dick said Elaine was sick."
"She hasn't been out of bed to-day. You know she's rather subject to sick attacks," explained Peggy. "But they don't last more than a day or two."
Priscilla's laugh was rather disagreeable. "It hasn't lasted as long as that," she replied. "She's up and dressed. Just passed the window. Rather a remarkable recovery, isn't it?"
Peggy did not speak.
"Elaine isn't particularly fond of housework, I imagine," continued Priscilla, lowering the shade, and turning back to the waiting dishes. "But I'd rather say right out I didn't want to help, than make a pretence of being sick. And especially after all you've done for her, Peggy."
Peggy was in a mood to be an easy prey to suspicion. Tired, half sick, with over-strained nerves, and throbbing temples, it was not strange that for a moment she half believed that Elaine's plea of illness was only an excuse for evading work she did not like. In spite of Peggy's lessons, Elaine still found housekeeping duties very irksome. In a moment, however, Peggy's sense of fairness revolted against the assumption, which for the moment she had accepted as proved.