"First of all she laughed in my face—right in my face—the little beggar!"
Hawkes frowned gloomily as though at some painful remembrance.
"And after she had concluded her cachinnatory outburst, she coolly told me she would rather have 'MICHAEL.' She is certainly a remarkable little person and outside of the inconvenience of having her here, we should all be delighted to go on taking care of her. And if dancing is the rock we are going to split on, let us get one up every week for her. Eh, Jerry? You'd come, wouldn't you?"
Down the stairs came Peg and Ethel. Peg was holding one of Ethel's hands tightly. There seemed to be a thorough understanding between them. Peg was dressed in the same little black suit she wore when she first entered the Chichester family and the same little hat.
They all looked at her in amazement, amusement, interrogation and disgust respectively.
When they reached the bottom of the stairs, Ethel stopped Peg and entreated:
"Don't go!"
"I must. There's nothin' in the wurrld 'ud kape me here now. Nothin'!"
"I'll drive with you to the station. May I?" asked Ethel.
"All right, dear." Peg crossed over to Mrs. Chichester: