CHAPTER III
PEG ARRIVES IN ENGLAND
Peg's journey to England was one of the unhappiest memories of her life. She undertook the voyage deliberately to please her father, because he told her it would please him. But beneath this feeling of pleasing him was one of sullen resentment at being made to separate from him.
She planned all kinds of reprisals upon the unfortunate people she was going amongst. She would be so rude to them and so unbearable that they would be glad to send her back on the next boat. She schemed out her whole plan of action. She would contradict and disobey and berate and belittle. Nothing they would do would be right to her and nothing she would do or say would be right to them. She took infinite pleasure in her plan of campaign. Then when she was enjoying the pleasure of such resentful dreams she would think of her father waiting for news of her: of his pride in her: of how much he wanted her to succeed. She would realise how much the parting meant to HIM, and all her little plots would tumble down and she would resolve to try and please her relations, learn all she could, succeed beyond all expression and either go back to America prosperous, or send for her father to join her in England. All her dreams had her father, either centrifugally or centripetally, beating through them.
She refused all advances of friendship aboard ship. No one dared speak to her. She wanted to be alone in her sorrow. She and "MICHAEL" would romp on the lower deck, by favour of one of the seamen, who would keep a sharp look-out for officers.
This seaman—O'Farrell by name—took quite a liking to Peg and the dog and did many little kindly, gracious acts to minister to the comfort of both of them.
He warned her that they would not let "Michael" go with her from the dock until he had first been quarantined. This hurt Peg more than anything could. She burst into tears. To have "Michael" taken from her would be the last misfortune. She would indeed be alone in that strange country. She was inconsolable.
O'Farrell, at last, took it on himself to get the dog ashore. He would wrap him up in some sail cloths, and then he would carry "Michael" outside the gates when the Customs' authorities had examined her few belongings.
When they reached Liverpool O'Farrell was as good as his word, though many were the anxious moments they had as one or other of the Customs' officers would eye the suspicious package O'Farrell carried so carelessly under his arm.