Just then a cuckoo, the sweetest note imaginable, sounded on the girls’ ears.
“I never knew the birds sing in such a lovely fashion as they are doing to-day, and such a variety of them, too,” said Molly.
Peggy had hard work to keep back a violent fit of laughter; she, however, restrained herself. She began a low, clear note, which might have belonged to a blackbird or to a lark; she did not venture to do many of the lark’s notes, fearing that she would be recognised, for larks do not sing so near the ground. At last, however, the sound of approaching wheels was heard; Peggy made a tiny opening for herself in her screen of green leaves, and the next minute the little pony trap appeared in view. A boy was seated at one side—he was evidently a groom, as he was dressed like one—and a girl in a brown holland dress, with a brown hat trimmed simply with a band of brown ribbon, was holding the reins. She stopped abruptly when she saw the girls, sprang lightly from the cart, and flung the reins to the boy.
“Joe, you had better take Sally up to the house; she will like a feed of oats before she goes home again. Well, my dears, here I am. I’m so glad to come!”
“And, oh, we are delighted! delighted to see you!” said Molly.
“And so am I delighted to see you.—Joe,” she called, aloud, “have my little trunk sent up to my room, please; don’t take it back again in the pony cart.”
The boy laughed and nodded. Soon the entire party were out of sight, and there was perfect silence all around; but Peggy remained up in her tree. At last, however, she slipped down towards the ground and ran as fast as she could to the house. She had liked the Irish tone of “Mary Polly Molly’s” voice, and was anxious to hear it again.
About half-an-hour before lunch the said Mary Polly Molly was in the “forget-me-not” room. She had unpacked her few possessions, and was standing by the open window. She had not yet seen Peggy, although she had heard a vast lot about her. She had listened to the despairing tones of her friends Jessie and Molly, but she had also heard Mrs. Wyndham declare positively that if something was not done she could not endure the child in the house.
“It comes to this, Mary,” Mrs. Wyndham said, “that if she doesn’t improve I must ask you to get her into your father’s house for a bit.”
“Oh, but, mother, that’s not fair!” exclaimed Jessie.