Eunice was at the station to meet her visitor, all propriety and polite condolence on the fatigue of the journey; and Peggy, never to be outdone in grandeur of diction, replied in Mariquita fashion, so that an elaborate conversation all about nothing was carried on throughout the drive home. Mrs Rollo was out, Arthur busy in the study, and three long hours loomed ahead before it would be time to prepare for dinner.
“This is dreadful! We seem to be beginning all over again, from the very first moment we met!” sighed Peggy to herself. “What on earth can I talk about next? If I could only make her laugh, we should get on better, but I can’t be funny to order. At the present moment I have not a joke in my composition, and it’s getting serious, for we have exhausted the weather and the miseries of removing into a new house, and the health of every single person we know. There’s nothing for it but books! I’ll turn her on to books, and dispute everything she says, and that ought to keep us going for an hour at least.” She cleared her throat, and was just beginning an insinuating, “Have you read—” when she met an earnest look from the grey eyes, and Eunice said miserably:
“I know what you are thinking! I saw you looking at the clock. You don’t know how to pass the time, or what to say next. I’m dreadfully sorry to be so stupid, but the more I want to talk, the more dumb I become. I can’t describe the sensation, but perhaps you have felt it for yourself. Do tell me! Do you know what it is like to be shy? Did you ever feel it?”
Peggy cudgelled her brains, unwilling to admit that any human experience was beyond her ken, but no! not one single instance of the kind could she remember. She had felt lonely at times, silent and unsociable, but never shy! She shook her head.
“No—never! I love meeting strangers. It is like opening a new book. You can never tell what good friends you may become. When I meet some one for the first time, I look into her eyes, and say to myself—‘What is she? Why is she? What does she think? Right away down at the bottom of her heart, what is she like? Do we belong to each other at all, or is there no single point where we can meet?’ It is so interesting! I assure you I drove through the City the other day in an omnibus, and discovered an affinity on the opposite seat! We just looked at each other, and a sort of flash passed from her eyes to mine, and I said to myself, ‘Oh, I do like you!’ and I knew as well as possible that she was thinking the same of me. We never spoke, and may never meet again, but we were friends all the same, and when I went away I said in my heart, ‘Good-bye, dear, good luck! So pleased to have met you!’ At other times I’ve seen people—Gr–r–r!” she hitched her shoulders to her ears and spread out her hands in disgust, “quite respectable and ordinary-looking creatures, but there! I wouldn’t touch them with the end of my umbrella!”
Eunice regarded her with pensive envy.
“Oh dear, I wish I felt like that! It would be like a book, as you say. I love reading, but I always think real life is so different.”
“And so much better! It’s true,” cried Peggy ardently, “and the other is pretence. I think it’s a glorious thing to live, and just most marvellously and wonderfully interesting. Why, think of it—every day is a mystery. You make your plans in the morning, but you know nothing of what may happen before night! People sigh and moan over the uncertainty of life, but that is ungrateful, for there are happy surprises as well as sad, and all sorts of pleasant things cropping up which one never expects. And it ought to go on growing more and more beautiful as we grow older, and can appreciate and understand.”
“Yes,” sighed Eunice softly. “Oh yes, and so it will—for you, Peggy, at least, for you have the gift of happiness. I feel things too, but I can’t express my feelings. I want to act, and I hang back trembling until some one else steps forward. I try to speak, and my lips won’t move. You don’t know how dreadful it is to feel as if two iron bands were placed round your mouth and would not let you speak!”
Peggy laughed in conscience-stricken fashion.