“I don't see what you're making such a kick for. I wouldn't have told you if I'd known you'd be so silly.”
And I heard Peggy say again:
“I want you to tell mother.” Her tone was perfectly even, but it sounded like Cyrus when he is angry. They both came in. Peggy was flushed, and her lips were pressed firmly together. She looked older than I have ever seen her.
“What's the matter?” Ada asked them.
“Tell her,” Peggy commanded. Billy didn't know what it all was about.
“Why, I just said I wondered what Aunt Elizabeth was telegraphing Harry Goward about, and now she drags me in here and makes a fuss,” he said, in an aggrieved tone.
“He was over at Whitman playing around the telegraph-office—he had driven over on the express-wagon—and when Aunt Elizabeth drove up he hid because he didn't want her to see him. Then he heard the operator read the address aloud,” Peggy explained, evenly.
“Is this so?” Ada asked.
“Sure,” Billy answered, disgustedly, and made off as fast as he could.
“Now,” said Peggy, “I want to know why Harry wrote to Aunt Elizabeth, and why she telegraphed him—over there where no one could see her!” She stood up very straight. “I think I ought to know,” she said, gently.