“Thank ye kindly, miss.” Peggy dropped a peasant girl’s little bob. But when Miss Armstetter held out her hand she took it. Presently she raised the soft hand to her glowing red lips. “I’m liking ye entirely,” she said.
“Thank you, Peggy, and I like you. This is Mrs. Fleming’s room; shall we find out if she’s here?”
“Ye needn’t, miss; I can do that me lonesome.”
The governess departed, and in a minute Peggy found herself inside the lovely sitting-room, which as a matter of fact she had never seen before.
Mrs. Fleming was writing letters, and she looked up. When she saw Peggy’s face she rose at once and came towards her. “My dear little girl, what’s wrong?”
“Ah thin, ma’am. Wisha dear heart, but ye’re wrong intirely.”
“In what way am I wrong, Peggy?”
“In putting me up, ma’am. It’s down I should go. Ye take the black un, ma’am, and put her in my place. It’ll plase thim others, Mrs. Fleming dear; and it’s best, it is truly. Ye can’t make out, dear Mrs. Fleming, how things conthrive themselves; but it’s down I must go. So I’m saying good-bye to ye, darling, an’ caed mille afaltha for all yer kindness. I’ll come to school reg’lar, dear, an’ I’ll learn the gray tongue ’cause ye wish it, but I must go to me own place, so I must.”
“Peggy, what utter nonsense you are talking! Do you know, darling, you really almost annoy me? I have made all arrangements for you, and I am the head of the school, dear child, and no one can do anything except what I wish. I wish you to be in the Upper School, Peggy, so in the Upper School you must stay, and you must learn to like it, my child, and not to be silly any more. Now, I’ll ring the bell and ask Miss Greene to take you up to your bedroom. You are looking very tired, Peggy, so you must lie down, and Miss Forrest will come by-and-by and put you to bed. You must have your supper in bed to-night, Peggy. Now, good-night, good-night.”
“I can’t go, misthress dear.”