"Madam," said the other imploringly, "you are mistaken. I assure you this room is ours. I can prove it——"
"I don't want to dispute you," I replied with dignity, "but leave my room at once!"
I don't know how long we sat there arguing but it seemed like months. And then all at once I heard Peaches' voice behind me.
"Good heavens! What are you doing there, Free Talbot?" she said, striding in and seizing me by the shoulder.
"I'm trying to put these brigands out of my room!" I said. "Don't interfere, my dear!"
"But it's not your room!" shrieked Peaches. "Oh, pa, come help me to get my chaperon out of these strange men's room!"
Mr. Pegg was close behind her, and as she spoke I realized that she was quite right. I got up with dignity and left, accompanied by the Peggs, and the next thing I knew somebody was putting ice on my forehead, and it needed it.
I opened my eyes, feeling very ill, and there was Peaches, in street clothes. It was broad noon and she had been crying. I felt as though I—as though all of us—had been going through vast experiences of misery for ages and ages. With a tremendous effort I struggled to a sitting posture in the bed, and addressed my charge.
"Peaches," I said, "I saw you kissing that young man last night! Now, my dear, though I feel very ill this morning—I think I must have eaten something at Abby's last night that disagreed with me—still, I am well enough to protest at your behavior!"
Peaches stared at me for a moment and then burst into unaccountable laughter.