CHAPTER V.
A VERY BAD CHILD.
ow I must tell you about something naughty that Peggy did. This was how it came about.
All the rest of the evening Aunt Euphemia and Martin seemed to think that Peggy was in disgrace, because she had spoilt her frock, and perhaps also because she was a little bit sulky. It is a horrid thing to sulk. It does no good; but often one wants to do it so much. Aunt Euphemia went and sat out in the garden after tea, and made Peggy sit beside her playing with a doll, and all the time she was anxious to be pounding chalk instead, so she didn’t care in the least for her doll. The only thing she could do was to pretend that she was very angry with the doll, and beat it severely several times. But even this did not make the evening pass quickly. It was a terribly hot day, and that made Peggy feel cross also. After supper Aunt Euphemia read aloud what she thought was a nice story to her; but Peggy didn’t care about it in the least, and at eight o’clock she was put to bed by Martin, who was still rather grim.
Peggy’s room was on the ground floor, and had a great big window. She asked Martin to let her keep the blind up, so that she might look out and see the ships if she wasn’t asleep; but Martin said that if she wasn’t asleep she should be, and drew down the blind. Peggy fell asleep pretty soon after this; but it was so hot that she soon woke and sat up in bed. It must have been only two or three hours since she went to bed, for it was still a soft dusk outside, as it often is between ten and eleven o’clock on a mid-summer night.
“Oh, how hot!” Peggy thought. Then she got up, and walked across the floor to the window, and lifted the blind. How cool and sweet the garden was! She stood and looked out, and wondered if every one had gone to bed, the house sounded so quiet. Then a sudden thought struck her. Why shouldn’t she get out at the window, and go and play at finding pearls just now? No one would know, and the chalk wouldn’t leave any mark on her nightgown. Because it was still light, it never occurred to Peggy to feel frightened to go out into the garden. She thought it would be the greatest fun to have her game in spite of Aunt Euphemia and Martin; so she wriggled on her little white dressing-gown, and drawing a chair to the window, climbed up on it, and threw up the window very softly.
That was quite easy to do; and oh, it was nice outside! The grass felt so delicious to her bare feet—so cool and rough. She had to run right across the lawn to get to the steps, and there were the dear chalk lumps lying waiting for her, and her pounding-stone!
“I must be very careful not to make a noise, for then Martin might look out and see me,” she thought; and so she squeezed the chalk carefully and quietly, and searched among it for the precious little white stones.
What fun it was to be doing this unknown to any one! And then all of a sudden the game seemed to lose its pleasure, because Peggy knew quite well she shouldn’t do it. She would not confess this to herself for some time, but went on crushing the chalk and thinking. Then she rose a little uneasily, and laid down her stone, and stood up.