“Your father! Back after all—and two men with him. Mr Cathcart, and—yes! Hector Darcy himself. I did not know he had come down. My dear child, what shall we do?”
But Peggy was speechless, stricken for once beyond power of repartee at the thought of the predicament which her carelessness had brought about. Her own humiliation and cook’s disgust were as nothing, compared with the thought of her father’s anger at the violation of his hospitable instincts. She could not retain even the semblance of composure, and the nervous, incoherent greeting which she accorded to the strangers was strangely in contrast with her usual self-possession.
Hector Darcy looked down into the flushed little face, and listened to the faltering words, his own heavy features lighting with pleasure. It was the first time he had seen Peggy lose her self-possession, and if he connected the fact with his own sudden appearance, it was no more than was to be expected from masculine vanity. He told himself that he had never seen her more dainty and pretty than she looked now, in her white dress, with the touch of pink, matching the colour on her cheeks, and Colonel Saville thought the same, and cast a glance of pride upon her as he cried:
“Back again, you see! I met Cathcart and Hector, as they meant to pay you a call in any case, I thought I had better bring them home with me to lunch. I told them I was not expected, but that my clever little housekeeper would be able to give us a meal. Anything you have, my dear; but be quick about it! We don’t care what we have, but we want it at once. Waiting is the one thing we cannot stand.”
That was the way in which he invariably spoke; but, alas, never were words more falsely uttered. The “clever little housekeeper” realised how difficult would be the task of giving satisfaction, and mentally rent her garments in despair.
“I will do the best I can, but you must allow me a little grace!” she said, twisting her features into a smile. “Mother and I were going to have our lunch out here, so it will take some time to have the table laid. You do not care for a picnic arrangement?”
“No, no, no! Detest out-of-door meals. Nothing but flies and discomfort,” declared the colonel roundly; and Peggy walked away towards the house, profoundly wishing that she could make her escape altogether, and scour the country until the dreaded hour was passed.
Cook was furious, as any right-minded cook would, under such circumstances, be.
“How,” she demanded, “could she be expected to make anything out of nothing? She knew her work as well as most, and no one couldn’t say but what she made the best of materials, but she wasn’t a magician, nor yet a conjurer, and didn’t set up to be, and therefore could not be expected to cook a dinner when there was no dinner to cook. It was enough to wear a body out, all these upsets and bothers, and she was sick of it. It was no good living in a place where you were blamed for what was not your fault. She did her best, and saints could do no more!” So on and so on, while Peggy stood by, sighing like a furnace, and feeling it a just punishment for her sins that she should be condemned to listen without excuses. Meekness, however, is sometimes a more powerful weapon than severity, and despite her hot temper cook adored her young mistress, and could not long endure the sight of the disconsolate face. The angry words died away into subdued murmurings, she rolled up her sleeves, and announced herself ready to obey orders. “For no one should say as she hadn’t done her duty by any house, as long as she lived in it.”
“It’s more than can be said of me, cook, I’m afraid; but help me out of this scrape like a good soul, and I’ll be a reformed character for the rest of my life! This will be a lesson which I shall never forget!” declared Peggy honestly; but she did not suspect in how serious a sense her words would become true. The adventures of that morning were not yet over, and the consequences therefrom were more lasting than she could anticipate.