"No, miss, a little thicker, I think. They're to be good strong ones for country wear," said nurse.
Peggy looked up with surprise.
"For the country, nursie," she said. "He'll have weared them out before it's time for us to go to the country. It won't be summer for a long while, and last year we didn't go even when summer comed."
Nurse looked a little vexed. Miss Field, though smiling and good-natured, was not a special favourite of nurse's; she was too fond of talking, and she stood there now looking very much amused at Peggy's remonstrance.
"If you didn't go to the country last year, Miss Margaret," said nurse, "more reason that you'll go this. But little girls can't know everything."
Peggy opened her eyes and her mouth. She was just going to ask nurse what was the matter, which would not have made things better, I am afraid, when Baby changed the subject by bursting out crying. Poor Baby—he did not like the little curtained-off room at all; it was rather dark, and he felt frightened, and as was of course the most sensible thing to do under the circumstances, as he could not speak, he cried.
"Dear, dear," said nurse, after vainly trying to soothe him, "he doesn't like being in here, the poor lamb. He's frightened. I'll never get him quiet here. Miss Peggy, love," forgetting in her hurry the presence of Miss Field, for before strangers Peggy was always "Miss Margaret," with nurse, "I'll have to put him back in his perambulator at the door, and if you'll stand beside him he'll be quite content."
And nurse got up as she spoke. Peggy slid herself down slowly and reluctantly from her seat; she would have liked to stay and watch Hal being fitted with boots, and she would have liked still more to ask nurse what she meant by speaking of the country so long before the time, but it was Peggy's habit to do what she was told without delay, and she knew she could ask nurse what she wanted afterwards. So with one regretful look back at the snug corner where Hal was sitting comfortably staring at his stockinged toes, she trotted across the shop to the door where Baby, quite restored to good humour, was being settled in his carriage.
"There now, he'll be quite happy. Nurse will come soon, dear. Just let him stay here in the doorway; he can see all the boots and shoes in the window—that will amuse him."