Peterkin

by Mrs. Molesworth

And at this, Margaret brightened up.

'Yes,' she said, 'I must come to see dear Poll. But I may talk to him from your side of the balcony, mayn't I, Mrs. Wylie?'

'Certainly,' said the kind old lady, 'and you must introduce your new friends to him. Mrs. Lesley's little girls, I mean.'

Margaret liked the idea of this, I could see. She is not at all shy, and she still is very fond of planning, or managing things, and people too, for that matter, though of course she is much more sensible now, and not so impatient and self-willed as she used to be. Still, on the whole, she gets on better with Peterkin than with any of us, though she is fond of us, I know, and so are we of her. But Peterkin is just a sort of slave to her, and does everything she asks, and I expect it will always be like that.

What a different journey it was that day to the miserable one the day before! To me, at least; for though I wasn't feeling particularly happy, as I will explain, in some ways, the horrible responsibility about the others had gone. They were as jolly as could be, but then I knew they hadn't felt half as bad as I had done. They sat in a corner, whispering, and I overheard that they were making plans for all sorts of things they would do while Margaret stayed with us. And Pete was telling her all about Blanche and Elf, especially about Elf, and about the lots of fairy story-books he had got, and how they three would act some of them together, till Margaret got quite pink with pleasure.

I saw mamma looking at me now and then, as if she was wondering what I was thinking about. I was thinking a good deal. There were some things I couldn't yet quite understand about it all—why there should have been a sort of mystery, and why Mrs. Wylie had pinched up her lips when we had asked her about Margaret the day we went to tea with her. And besides this, I was feeling, in a kind of a way, rather ashamed of being taken home like a baby, even though mamma—and all of them, I must say—had been so very good, not to make a regular row and fuss, after the fright we had given them, or had nearly given them.

But I didn't say anything more to mamma just then. For one thing, I saw that she was looking very tired, and no wonder, poor dear little mamma, when you think what a day of it she had had, and all the bother with the witch the night before, too.

I never saw Miss Bogle, and I've never wanted to. I shall always consider that she was nearly as bad as if she had been a witch, and it was no thanks to her that poor little Margaret didn't get really lost, or badly ill, or something of that kind.

They were expecting us when we got home. Blanche and Elf were in the hall, looking rather excited and very shy. But there was not much fear of shyness with Margaret and Peterkin, as neither of them was ever troubled with such a thing.

I left Pete to do the honours, so to say, helped by mamma, of course. They all went off together upstairs to show Margaret her room and the nursery, and to introduce her to nurse and all the rest of it, and I went into the schoolroom—a small sort of study behind the dining-room, and sat down by myself, feeling rather 'out of it' and 'flat,' and almost a little ashamed of myself and the whole affair somehow.