As soon as ever he was alone, Wyndham hailed an outside car and drove to Miss Wakefield’s address. He told her his predicament.
She was a good-hearted woman, very Irish and very affectionate. She said, “My dear Paul, you have put your foot in it! Well, I will do my very best for the child. I will take her out to the shops to-morrow and get her fitted out properly.”
“You need spare no money on her,” said Paul Wyndham. “Get her anything she requires. I want to start to-morrow for Holyhead by the night boat. Do you think you can manage this for me, Kathleen?”
Kathleen Wakefield promised, and the next day Peggy was taken from one shop to another. She was extremely sulky now, hardly opening her lips, scarcely uttering a word. However, Miss Wakefield, with plenty of money at command, managed to fit the child with a pretty neat coat and skirt, a nice dark-blue hat, and a few more articles of wardrobe, also a fair amount of underclothing. She bought a new trunk for the girl, and told her she had better leave the little black trunk behind her at the hotel.
At this request Peggy’s pent-up feelings gave way to a sudden screech. “Is it to lave me mother’s trunk behind I’d be doin’? Not me. It’s every single thing you bought me flung into the say; but the trunk goes wid me to that cauld England, or I don’t set foot in it.”
Wyndham happened to be near, and assured Peggy that she need not fret, for all her own special belongings would go with her to Preston Manor in the little black trunk.
CHAPTER III.
AT PRESTON MANOR.
The Wyndham girls were considerably excited at the thought of the new and strange companion who was to come into their midst. After their first astonishment they were more pleased than otherwise; Molly, especially, was determined to make the very best out of this strange, new event in her career. At The Red Gables one of the girls happened to be Irish. She was a well-educated, ladylike girl, but oh such fun! Her name was Bridget O’Donnell, and wherever amusement was to be found Bridget was invariably in the midst of it. Suppose this poor little Peggy turned out to be a second Bridget! If so, all would go well. Molly chattered over the subject with Jessie as the two girls were dressing on the morning of the day when Peggy Desmond was to arrive. Their father was expected with the new-comer about eleven o’clock that morning, he having decided at the last moment to spend a little time in London, in order to give Peggy a good sleep after her night-journey, and also to buy her some more clothes. Miss Wakefield had furnished the child with what the child herself considered “owdacious” magnificence; but Wyndham, who knew his wife’s tastes, was clever enough to see that a good many necessary things were left out. Accordingly, having seen Peggy sound asleep in a bedroom at the Euston Hotel, he started off to visit his wife’s dressmaker. He put Peggy’s case into this good woman’s hands, who quickly and deftly made up a box of what she called “necessary garments.” These consisted of white silk stockings, white satin shoes, one or two pretty evening frocks, and a vast supply of delicate and richly trimmed underclothing. Mrs. Ferguson also threw in one or two muslin frocks, suitable to the hot weather which was coming on, and finally trimmed up a couple of smart hats for the “Irish princess,” as she laughingly called the poor little girl.
“She’ll be here soon—very soon,” said Jessie. “Do you know what it is, Moll, I feel absolutely nervous about her.”
“Why should you be nervous?” said Molly.