Anne was in terror for the time when Peggy would begin to see. For that, and for her own inability to teach her the stupendous difference between right and wrong.
But one day Peggy ran to her mother, crying as if her heart would break.
"Oh, muvver, muvver, kiss me," she sobbed. "I did kick daddy! Kiss me."
She flung her arms round Anne's knees, as if clinging for protection against the pursuing vision of her sin.
"Hush, hush, darling," said Anne. "Perhaps daddy didn't mind."
But Peggy howled in agony. "Y-y-yes, he did. I hurted him, I hurted him. He minded ever so."
"My little one," said Anne, "my little one!" and clung to her and comforted her.
She saw that Peggy's little mind recognised no sin except the sin against love; that Peggy's little heart could not conceive that love should refuse to forgive her and kiss her.
And Anne did not refuse.
Thus her terror grew. If it was to come to Peggy that way, her knowledge of the difference, what was Peggy to think when she grew older? When she began to see?