"DECENT?" cried Ethel in disgust.
"I'll meet ye three quarthers o' the way if ye'll show just one little generous feelin' toward me." She paused as she looked pleadingly at Ethel: "Ye would if ye knew what was in me mind."
Ethel came down to the last step of the stairs and stood there looking down searchingly at Peg. Finally she said:
"You're a strange creature."
"Not at all. It's you people here who are strange—I'm just what I am. I don't pretend or want to be anythin' else. But you—all of you—seem to be trying to be somethin' different to what ye are."
"What do you mean?" asked Ethel suspiciously.
"Oh, I watch ye and listen to ye," went on Peg eagerly. "Ye turn yer face to the wurrld as much as to say, 'Look at me! aren't I the beautiful, quiet, well-bred, aisy-goin', sweet-tempered young lady?' An' yer nothin' o' the kind, are ye?"
Ethel went slowly over to Peg and looked into her eyes:
"What am I?"
"Sure ye've got the breedin' all right, an' the nice-looks, an' the beautiful manners—but down in yer heart an' up in yer brain ye're worryin' yer little soul all the time, aren't ye?" And Peg paused. Ethel looked down. Peg after a moment continued: "An' ye've got a temper just as bad as mine. It's a beautiful temper ye have, Ethel. It's a shame not to let a temper like that out in the daylight now and again. But ye kape it out o' sight because it isn't good form to show it. An' with all yer fine advantages ye're not a bit happy, are ye? Are ye, Ethel?"