One day, when things were at the worst, Peggy found Viola in her room, crying on the divan.
"What is the matter?" she asked, rather briefly. Viola's troubles seemed microscopic in this time of heart-wringing anxiety.
Viola raised her head, and her eyes were red with weeping.
"They say she's going to die, Peggy!" she said.
"Nonsense!" said Peggy, gruffly. "Who says so?"
"Oh, all the girls. They say Doctor Hendon shook his head when he went out this morning; you know that's a very bad sign. Oh, Peggy, I wish I had been good to the poor little thing. You have always been good to her. I don't believe you suffered as much as I did from her clothes, but I wish I had been good to her all the same. Peggy, if she gets well, I'm going to do over her hats for her, and try to make her look different. Peggy, where are you going? Don't leave me! Lobelia is going to die, and I feel so frightened."
"I don't believe she is going to die," said Peggy. "I am going to the study to see Miss Russell; come with me if you like, V."
Viola crept along beside her, cowering in Peggy's shadow as they passed the door of the sick-room. Peggy paused to listen. From within came the sound of soft singing, and the faint rustle of a wood fire. What was Grace singing? one of the quaint French songs that she loved,—
"Trois anges sont venus ce soir,
M'apportaient de bien belles choses;
L'un d'eux avaient un encensoir,
Le deuxième un chapelet de roses.
Et le troisième avait en main
Une robe toute fleurie,
De perles, d'or et de jasmin,
Comme en a Madame Marie.
Noël! Noël!
Nous venons du ciel,
T'apporter ce que tu desires;
Car le bon Dieu,
Au fond du ciel bleu,
A chagrin lorsque tu soupires!"
The two girls crept softly past, Viola wiping the tears from her eyes. They went down to the study, and, knocking gently, were bidden to enter. Miss Russell and Miss Cortlandt were sitting together, and at their feet sat the Snowy and the Fluffy Owls, curled up on two hassocks. Peggy looked in timidly.