"It is a good pie!" she said. "If not afraid of pollution, Fluffy, a bite?"
Bertha was looking half amused, half angry. "Grace, how can you act so?" she said.
"How?" said Grace. "My sweet child, it is as easy as breathing. I will give instruction at any time, without charge."
"I thought you were doing double lessons," Bertha went on, "and being as good as gold. Grace, you can be so good!"
"Can't I!" said Grace; her tone was one of admiring gravity; her blue eyes kept their look of pensive sadness.
"And it's a thing I admire, goodness!" she went on, shaking her head. "That's why I practise it. Double lessons? I'll warrant you! this is the second time I have been down here to-night, for example; other things in proportion." She waved her hand, and fell to again at her pie.
Peggy had been sitting open-eyed, watching this singular person, not knowing what to say. Now, however, meeting the solemn gaze of the large sad eyes, she felt compelled to speech.
"It—it's delicious!" she said, timidly. "Wouldn't you rather sit in a chair, Miss—" she hesitated, not liking to say "Grace."
"Oh, dear!" said Bertha, still put out. "You make me forget my manners and everything, Grace. Peggy, this is Miss Grace Wolfe; Grace, Miss Peggy Montfort."
"Charmed!" said Miss Wolfe. "But we have met before, Fluffy, or I should not have descended."