"Daddy wasn't at home last night, Peggy."
"Oh, daddy, where were you?"
Majendie felt his forehead getting damp again.
"Daddy was away on business."
"Oh, mummy, don't you wish he'd never go away?"
"I think it's time for lunch," said Majendie.
They ate their lunch; and when it was ended, Majendie went to the cottage to find water, for Peggy was thirsty. He returned, carrying water in a pitcher, and followed by a red-cheeked, rosy little girl who brought milk in a cup for Peggy.
Anne remembered the cup. It was the same cup that she had drunk from after her husband. And the child was the same child whom he had found sitting in the grass, whom he had shown to her and taken from her arms, whose little body, held close to hers, had unsealed in her the first springs of her maternal passion. It all came back to her.
The little girl beamed on Peggy with a face like a small red sun, and Peggy conceived a sudden yearning for her companionship. It seemed that, at the cottage, there were rabbits, and a new baby, and a litter of puppies three days old. And all these wonders the little girl offered to show to Peggy, if Peggy would go with her.
Peggy begged, and went through the wood, hand in hand with the little beaming girl. Majendie and Anne watched them out of sight.