“Well,” said Mrs. Fleming, “of course you clearly understand that Peggy, being the daughter of Peter Desmond, captain in his Majesty’s Second Punjab Border Regiment, and having won his V. C., which he did, I understand, in a most glorious way, by carrying a brother-officer away from under the fire of the enemy and thus saving his life, receiving himself a bullet-wound through the shoulder which crippled him for the remainder of his days—this gallant fellow was indeed a father that any child might be proud of.”
“I am not saying anything about Peggy’s father,” said Jessie, looking up again; “but the question is, as far as we are concerned, have we any reason to be proud of Peggy?”
“Assuredly yes,” was Mrs. Fleming’s reply.
“Proud of Peggy?” repeated Jessie.
“Yes, Jessie, I should say so. You have great reason to be proud of her.”
“But why, please, Mrs. Fleming?”
“First of all, my dear, will you answer me a question?”
“Of course I will, with pleasure.”
“Jessie, you have a regard for me?”
“Oh, of course, Mrs. Fleming.”