"And don't you think," asked Peggy, hurling herself into the breach, "that a girl who does hard things when she has to, and keeps brave and plucky about it, is a credit to any family? Seems to me that her ancestors, whoever they were, would have reason to be proud of her."
There was a clarion ring in Peggy's voice. Mrs. Marshall looked at her doubtfully, surprised that enthusiasm could be kindled over what to her mind was a disgrace. But Elaine's expression betrayed a sense of guilt.
"Don't try to make a heroine of me, Peggy," she protested. "I'm not brave, nor plucky, nor anything of the kind. It's only that I've got to have the money. If you think there's any chance, let's go to see your uncle right away before he gets anybody else."
The process of bringing Mrs. Marshall to agree to this suggestion occupied some time. Suspecting the weakness of her arguments, the poor lady fell back on tears and reminiscences. The two girls listened to detailed accounts of the lavish expenditure that had prevailed in her father's household, the big dinners, the imported gowns, the liveried coachman. "And to think that my child should be--getting a job," wailed Mrs. Marshall. "O, what would poor papa have said?" It was not so much, perhaps, that the girls' arguments finally had effect, as that the violence of her emotion had reduced her to the point of exhaustion, which accounted for the fact that Elaine and Peggy were at last allowed to depart on their errand without protest.
Peggy's uncle, Mr. John Mannering, was a big grey-haired man, with eyes that twinkled boyishly, and a voice that could be kind or commanding or both in one, on occasion. He asked Elaine a few questions which had the result of making her feel hopelessly ignorant and incompetent, and then sat considering her with a closeness of attention whose curious impersonality resulted in relieving Elaine from all feeling of embarrassment. "He's sizing me up," she thought, and sat waiting without much hope of a favorable verdict. The atmosphere of the real estate office was like a different world from any to which Elaine had been accustomed. The maps upon the wall, the business-like click of the typewriter, the phrases which she caught as people came and went, all were calculated to make her feel how little her life had prepared her for fitting into so methodical a system of activity.
Mr. Mannering turned abruptly to his niece. "Well, Peggy," he exclaimed, with the smile which was conclusive proof that, as Peggy put it, he was not "petrified." "Do I understand that you stand sponsor for this young woman?"
"Yes, sir," returned Peggy, without troubling herself to inquire into his exact meaning.
"You'll vouch for her being efficient, courteous, obliging, industrious, quick to learn, slow to forget, and above all a sticker."
"Yes, sir," said Peggy without blinking. It was Elaine who uttered a little protesting gasp, and looked frightened.
"Well, I'll take your word for her. You can be on hand in the morning, I suppose," he added, looking at Elaine.