“That blessed boy!” cried Mrs Asplin, clasping her hands in delight. “There never was any one like him. He guessed how I should feel—he always did guess! I might have known that he would come. But how? When? Where? He was not in the carriage with the girls.”
“Got out at the gate, mater, and came in at the window. Wanted to get a start of you all at tea,” said Arthur, coming forward, serviette in hand, to receive the kiss and hug of welcome which he was never too old to enjoy. He had divined that Peggy’s advent would make the gap in the household even more felt than usual, and his kindly instinct had been to fill that gap as much as possible; but no other reason would he acknowledge for his presence than the necessity of escorting two frivolous young women who could not be trusted to take a journey on their own account, and his hosts were too full of delight at his appearance to dispute the point.
“Second fiddle!” sighed Peggy with a shrug. “It’s meself that’s second fiddle this moment, when ’twas the whole orchestra I expected to be. Take me away, somebody, before I break down altogether, and show me some of the old haunts until tea is ready.”
“Peggy, don’t be absurd!” Esther said solemnly; but Peggy marched determinedly out of the room, and, with the exception of Mr and Mrs Asplin and Arthur, every one followed and stood looking on while she pushed open the swing door of the cloak-room, and poked her little head round the corner.
“Where’s my peg?” she cried. “If I find any other wretched creature’s clothes hanging on my peg, I’ll—” then she stopped suddenly, darted forward with a squeal of delight, and closed the door behind her. She was not hidden more than a minute, but in effect it seemed to have been a long, long time, for when the door reopened, the French hat had disappeared, and it was the real old Peggy-Pickle who smiled and nodded and peaked her brows beneath the scarlet cap.
“The Tam o’ Shanter! Rob has brought it back after all these years. He kept it until you could wear it again. Goodness, how touching! I never thought you would turn sentimental, Rob!” cried Mellicent the tactless, and the next moment devoutly wished she had held her peace, as Rob scowled, Esther pinched her arm, and Peggy trod on her toe with automatic promptness. She turned on her heel and strode back to the dining-room, while Peggy flicked the cap off her head, trying hard to look unconscious, and to continue her investigations as if nothing embarrassing had occurred.
“There’s the old stain on the floor where I spilt the ink, and the little marks all the way upstairs where the corners of my box took off the paint. Dear, dear, how home-like they look! I must see cook after tea, and Diddums, my sweet little kitten. How is the darling? As pretty and fluffy and playful as ever?”
“Peggy dear, do not be silly!”
“Esther dear, I cannot help it! I’m too happy to be sensible. Let me be silly for just one day. What, is that Diddums? That ugly, lanky, old cat? You’ve aged terribly, Diddums, since I saw you last. Ah me, ah me, the years tell on us all! Tell me, dear—be faithful!—are you as much shocked at the change in me?”
Peggy looked up archly, and met Rob’s deep, earnest gaze. She put down the cat, rose suddenly, and thrust her hand through Esther’s arm. Her cheeks were very pink, her eyes astonishingly bright. Esther looked at her critically, and pursed up her lips in disapproving fashion.