The two girls were too stunned for a moment to move.
The worst thing that could possibly have happened was just what DID happen.
There would be all kinds of questions and explanations. Peg instantly made up her mind that they were not going to know why Ethel was there.
Ethel must be saved and at any cost.
She sprang to her feet. "Holy Mother!" she cried, "the whole house'll be awake! Give me yer hat! Quick! An' yer cloak! An' yer bag!" Peg began quickly to put on Ethel's hat and cloak. Her own she flung out of sight beneath the great oak table.
"Now remember," she dictated, "ye came here because ye heard me. Ye weren't goin' out o' the house at all. Ye just heard me movin' about in here. Stick to that."
The sound of voices in the distance broke in on them.
"They're comin'," said Peg, anxiously. "Remember ye're here because ye heard ME. An' ye were talkin—an'—I'll do the rest. Though what in the wurrld I am GOIN' to say and do I don't know at all. Only YOU were not goin' out o' this house! That's one thing we've got to stick to. Give me the bag."
Wearing Ethel's hat and cloak and with Ethel's travelling-bag in her hand, staunch little Peg turned to meet the disturbed family, with no thought of herself, what the one abiding resolution to, at any and at all costs, save her cousin Ethel from disgrace.