“Certainly I was!”
“Where, may I ask?”
“In India—in Calcutta, where my father’s regiment was stationed.”
“You lived there till you were quite big? You can remember all about it?”
“All I want to remember. There was a great deal that I choose to forget. I don’t care for India. England is more congenial to my feelings.”
“And can you speak the language? Did you learn Hindostanee while you were there?”
“Naturally. Of course I did.”
A gasp of amazement came from the two girls in the window, for a knowledge of Hindostanee had never been included in the list of Peggy’s accomplishments, and she was not accustomed to hide her light under a bushel. They gazed at her with widened eyes, and Rosalind scented scepticism in the air, and cried quickly—
“Say something, then. If you can speak, say something now, and let us hear you.”
“Pardon me!” said Peggy, simpering. “As a matter of fact, I was sent home because I was learning to speak too well. The language of the natives is not considered suitable for English children of tender age. I must ask you to be so kind as to excuse me. I should be sorry to shock your sensibilities.”