“You know the Irish child, Peggy Desmond?”
“Unquestionably. What a charming little face she has too! I have not had time yet to talk to her; but I took to her, my dear, amazingly.”
“You have not heard her speak, Mrs. Fleming?”
“No, but I am quite prepared for any eccentricity of language. Paul Wyndham gave me her history, and it is a very sad one. The dear little creature hasn’t got a penny in the world; she would be the very case for the Howard Bequest, but I do not intend to take his privileges from Paul. Peggy’s father was his dearest friend, and he left him the child as a keepsake; he means to bring her up as though she were his own, to put her in all respects on a level with his girls and to endow her with an equal fortune. He does right. I respect a man who takes up a responsibility as Paul does. He wrote to me at once on the matter, and luckily little Violet Darrell’s illness gave me the opportunity to help him. I intended to speak to you about the child before now, Julia. She will have a difficult time, but she will succeed, and of course we must help her. Fortunately, she does not look like a coward.”
“Coward!” replied Miss Archdale, with a laugh; “it might have been better for her if she were more cowardly. Already we have had a scene, and she has made an enemy in the school.”
“Ah! who is that?”
“Kitty Merrydew. It was Kitty’s fault, of course.”
“What did Kitty do?”
“Took her off, bent over the balusters and laughed at her, and imitated her Irish. She was chattering to me, poor little soul, and holding the hand of Elisabeth Douglas, who had taken one of her violent fancies to the new girl. Suddenly Peggy looked up, and there was Kitty grimacing overhead, laughing at her, and imitating her Irish. In one moment, like a flash, Peggy was on her, had taken her by both shoulders and shaken her as a dog shakes a rat, and screaming to her, Peggy’s face purple with rage, ‘Take that for your bad manners,’ she said; ‘don’t ye be talking like that, for I won’t have it!’ You never knew such a scene. The Imp, as the girls call Kitty, was absolutely frightened.”
Mrs. Fleming could not help laughing. “Do you know,” she said, “it is very wicked of me, but I’m rather glad to have some one in the school with sufficient courage to stand up to Kitty Merrydew?”