“So you won’t kape me then?” said Peggy, raising eyes of blank despair to Mrs. Anderson’s face.
“Oh Peggy, you will come back with us!” said poor Molly.
“Will it make ye cry bitter bad if I don’t?”
“Yes, I think I shall be quite ill.”
“Faix, then, I’ll go, but I don’t like it a bit. Oh wurra, but I’m dazed intirely, that I be! Good-bye, Mrs. Anderson, give my love to the little hins. I can’t live your life, but I can’t love the life they live at the back of beyont. Good-bye, Mrs. Anderson, dear.”
The sad little figure was soon walking down the path, and Molly, half-triumphant and yet with a sinking at her heart, saw her safe into the pony carriage.
CHAPTER VI.
PEGGY’S ESCAPADE.
Peggy was certainly very troublesome, there was no doubt whatever on that point. Even Molly had to agree to this most patent fact. She did not want even kind Molly’s attentions; and as to the rest of the family, she openly said that she couldn’t “abide the sight o’ them.” These words were not pleasant to hear, and Mrs. Wyndham was not the sort of person to take them quietly. When the child refused to eat her meals properly, and sat sulky and speechless in one of the beautiful drawing-rooms, having first of all spilt a cup of tea all over one of the pretty frocks which had just been bought for her, Mrs. Wyndham determined to defy her husband and take the bit between her teeth. Accordingly, she marched up to Peggy, took her hand, and led her up to her bedroom. There she pushed her in with some violence, and said, “You’re a very naughty, ungrateful little girl; but here you shall stay until you express sorrow for your misdemeanours.”
“Whativer’s thim?” inquired Peggy.
“I’ll leave you to find out, you naughty, bad child!”