“Well, we’ll take him an ‘I beg your pardon,’ to-morrow,” said Mary, “and I will be with you when you speak to him; and now, darling, try and remember about the fairy princess, and don’t make her unhappy. You can’t think how she will sing in your heart when you have done a kindness to any one.”
“But I’m anxious to be always doin’ kindness. Sure, for glory’s sake——”
“Now, Peggy, that is not a right word. Say it without ‘sure’ and ‘for glory’s sake.’”
“There’s no end to it without its beginning,” said Peggy, turning a little sulky.
“Well, darling, I want you to try and speak like a dear little Irish lady. You can’t forget all your pretty words at once, and some of them you may say now and then—not quite all, but some—and then, dear, you needn’t lose your sweet accent, for it is altogether charming, and you needn’t lose your dear Irish blue eyes, for nobody who wasn’t an Irish girl could have such sapphire-blue eyes as yours. My dear child, I am certain you will be very happy if only you obey little Fairy Princess Mona.”
By the evening of that day, Peggy had really made valiant efforts to improve her language. Mary, however, allowed the girl to talk to her pretty much as she liked.
In the evening Mary had a conversation about her with Mrs. Wyndham. “I think,” she said, “that Peggy ought not to go to a regular school for at least two months. During that time, if you are wise, you will let me send her to my friend Nancy Grey. Nancy Grey lives with her father on the borders of Wales; she is a dear, sweet girl, and has got two little baby-brothers to take care of, and her father. Her dear mother is dead, and Nancy would be glad to have Peggy to keep her company. At the end of her visit she will be ready to come back, and, perhaps, go to school to The Red Gables with the girls after Christmas.”
“My dear Mary, I think your plan is a splendid one! I never knew anybody who had such patience. I only wish you could take the child yourself.”
“I wish with all my heart I could,” replied Mary; “but, as a matter of fact, we have hardly standing-room in our crowded rectory. But I will write to Nancy if Uncle Paul says I may.”
“Speak to him yourself, Mary; he is the most obstinate man in existence. If he agrees, all will be well.”