“It lay there before my eyes, and I stood and looked at it ... I thought of nothing, but just stood and stared. I heard you all come upstairs, and the doors shut, and Arthur’s voice laughing and talking; but there was only one thing I could remember—I had forgotten Rob’s parcel, and he would come back, and I should have to tell him, and see his face! I felt as if I were paralysed, and then suddenly I seized the parcel in my hands, and flew downstairs. I put on my cap and cloak and went out into the garden. I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I was going to do something! I ran on and on, through the village, down towards the station. I knew it was too late for the post office, but I had a sort of feeling that if I were at the station something might be done. Just as I got there a train came in, and I heard the porter call out ‘London express.’ I thought—no! I did not think at all—I just ran up to a carriage and took a seat, and the door banged and away we went. The porter came and asked for my ticket, and I had a great deal of trouble to convince him that I had only really come from here, and not all the way. There was an old lady in the carriage, and she told him that it was quite true, for she had seen me come in. When we went off again, she looked at me very hard, and said, ‘Are you in trouble, dear?’ and I said, ‘Yes I am, but oh, please don’t talk to me! Do please leave me alone!’ for I had begun to realise what I had done, and that I couldn’t be back for hours and hours, and that you would all be so anxious and unhappy. I think I was as miserable as you were when I sent off that telegram. I posted the parcel in London, and went and sat in the waiting-room. I had an hour and a half to wait, and I was wretched, and nervous, and horribly hungry. I had no money left but a few coppers, and I was afraid to spend them and have nothing left. It seemed like a whole day, but at last the train came in, and I saw a dear old gentleman with white hair standing on the platform. I took a fancy to his appearance, so I walked up to him, and bowed and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, I find myself in a dilemma! Will you allow me to travel in the same carriage as yourself?’ He was most agreeable. He had travelled all over the world, and talked in the most interesting fashion, but I could not listen to his conversation. I was too unhappy. Then we arrived, and Mr. Asplin called me ‘M—M—Mariquita!’ and w—wouldn’t let you kiss me——”
Her voice broke helplessly this time, and she stood silent, with quivering lip while sighs and sobs of sympathy echoed from every side. Mrs. Asplin cast a glance at her husband, half defiant, half appealing, met a smile of assent, and rushed impetuously to Peggy’s side.
“My darling! I’ll kiss you now. You see we knew nothing of your trouble, dear, and we were so very, very anxious. Mr. Asplin is not angry with you any longer, are you, Austin? You know now that she had no intention of grieving us, and that she is truly sorry——”
“I never thought—I never thought—” sobbed Peggy; and the Vicar gave a slow, kindly smile.
“Ah, Peggy, that is just what I complain about. You don’t think, dear, and that causes all the trouble. No, I am not angry any longer. I realise that the circumstances were peculiar, and that your distress was naturally very great. At the same time, it was a most mad and foolish thing for a girl of your age to rush off by rail, alone, and at nighttime, to a place like London. You say that you had only a few coppers left in your purse. Now suppose there had been no train back to-night, what would you have done? It does not bear thinking of, my dear, or that you should have waited alone in the station for so long, or thrown yourself on strangers for protection. What would your parents have said to such an escapade?”
Peggy sighed, and cast down her eyes. “I think they would have been cross too. I am sure they would have been anxious, but I know they would forgive me when I was sorry, and promised that I really and truly would try to be better and more thoughtful! They would say, ‘Peggy, dear, you have been sufficiently punished! Consider yourself absolved!...’”
The Vicar’s lips twitched, and a twinkle came into his eye. “Well, then, I will say the same! I am sure you have regretted your hastiness by this time, and it will be a lesson to you in the future. For Arthur’s sake, as well as your own, we will say no more on the subject. It would be a pity if his visit were spoiled. Just one thing, Peggy, to show you that, after all, grown-up people are wiser than young ones, and that it is just as well to refer to them now and then, in matters of difficulty! Has it ever occurred to you that the mail went up to London by the very train in which you yourself travelled, and that by giving your parcel to the guard it could still have been put in the bag? Did not that thought never occur to your wise little brain?”
Peggy made a gesture as of one heaping dust and ashes on her head. “I never did,” she said, “not for a single moment! And I thought I was so clever! I am covered with confusion!”
(To be continued.)