“At least until thee found that we knew him well. Is that it? What unworthy people we must be that the mere knowing us would render him unfit for thy regard.”
“Now, Peggy,” he began protestingly, then he too laughed. “I am the unworthy one,” he acknowledged humbly. “I did feel a pang that you people should know him so well, and I not know it.”
“Fie, Robert! As though we had not room in our hearts for many friends. Each hath his own peculiar nook, and thou hast thine.”
CHAPTER XX
A SLIGHT EMPHASIS ON “THAT”
“Of all the numerous ills that hurt our peace,
That press the soul, or wring the mind with anguish,
Beyond comparison, the worst are those
Which to our folly or our guilt we owe.”
—John Strange Winter.
“And you will take Peggy and me to see Clifford this morning, won’t you, Cousin David?” Harriet smiled brightly over the breakfast table at David Owen as she spoke. Despite the long journey the girls had awakened betimes, and appeared looking so radiant and so thoroughly wholesome that Mr. Owen had declared that they surpassed the morning itself in brightness.