Search      Hot    Newest Novel
HOME > Classical Novels > About Peggy Saville > Chapter Twelve. Peggy in Trouble.
Font Size:【Large】【Middle】【Small】 Add Bookmark  
Chapter Twelve. Peggy in Trouble.
As Peggy sat writing in the study one afternoon, a shaggy head came peering round the door, and Robert’s voice said eagerly—“Mariquita! A word in your ear! Could you come out and take a turn round the garden for half an hour before tea, or are you too busy?”

“Not at all. I am entirely at your disposal,” said Peggy elegantly; and the young people made their way to the cloak-room, swung on coats and sailor hats, and sallied out into the fresh autumn air.

“Mariquita,” said Robert then, using once more the name by which he chose to address Peggy in their confidential confabs, “Mariquita, I am in difficulties! There is a microscope advertised in Science this week, that is the very thing I have been pining for for the last six years. I must get it, or die; but the question is—how? You see before you a penniless man.” He looked at Peggy as he spoke, and met her small, demure smile.

“My dear and honourable sir—”

“Yes, yes, I know; drop that, Mariquita! Don’t take for granted, like Mellicent, that because a man has a title he must necessarily be a millionaire. Everything is comparative! My father is rich compared to the vicar, but he is really hard-up for a man in his position. He gets almost no rent for his land nowadays, and I am the third son. I haven’t as much pocket-money in a month as Oswald gets through in a week. Now that microscope costs twenty pounds, and if I were to ask the governor for it, he wouldn’t give it to me, but he would sigh and look wretched at being obliged to refuse. He’s a kind-hearted fellow, you know, who doesn’t like to say ‘No,’ and I hate to worry him. Still—that microscope! I must have it. By hook or by crook, I must have it. I’ve set my mind on that.”

“I’m sure I hope you will, though for my part you must not expect me to look through it. I like things to be pretty, and when you see them through a microscope they generally look hideous. I saw my own hand once—ugh!” Peggy shuddered. “Twenty pounds! Well, I can only say that my whole worldly wealth is at your disposal. Draw on me for anything you like—up to seven-and-six! That’s all the money I have till the beginning of the month.”

“Thanks!—I didn’t intend to borrow; I have a better idea than that. I was reading a magazine the other day, and came upon a list of prize competitions. The first prize offered was thirty pounds, and I’m going to win that prize! The microscope costs only twenty pounds, but the extra ten would come in usefully for—I’ll tell you about that later on! The Piccadilly Magazine is very respectable and all that sort of thing; but the governor is one of the good, old-fashioned, conservative fellows, who would be horrified if he saw my name figuring in it. I’m bound to consider his feelings, but all the same I’m going to win that prize. It says in the rules—I’ve read them through carefully—that you can ask your friends to help you, so that there would be nothing unfair about going into partnership with someone else. What I was going to suggest was that you and I should collaborate. I’d rather work with you than with any of the others, and I think we could manage it rather well between us. Our contribution should be sent in in your name; that is to say, if you wouldn’t object to seeing yourself in print.”

“I should love it. I’m proud of my name; and it would be a new sensation.” But Peggy spoke in absent-minded fashion, as if her thoughts were running on another subject. Rob had used a word which was unfamiliar in her ears, a big word, a word with a delightful intellectual roll, and she had not the remotest idea of its meaning. Collaborate! Beautiful! Not for worlds would she confess her ignorance, yet the opportunity could not be thrown away. She must secure the treasure, and add it to her mental store. She put her head on one side, and said pensively—

“I shall be most happy to er—er—In what other words can I express ‘collaborate,’ Rob? I object to repetition?”

“Go shags!” returned Robert briefly. “I would do the biggest part of the work, of course—that’s only fair, because I want two-thirds of the money—but you could do what you liked, and have ten pounds for your share. Ten pounds would come in very usefully for Christmas.”

“Rather! I’d get mother and father lovely presents, and Mrs Asplin too; and buy books for Esther, and a little gold ring for Mellicent—it’s her idea of happiness to have a gold ring. I’ll help you with pleasure, Rob, and I’m sure we shall get the prize. What have we to do? Compose some poetry?”

“Goodness, no! Fancy me making up poetry! It’s to make up a calendar. There are subjects given for each month—sorrow, love, obedience, resignation—that sort of thing, and you have to give a quotation for each day. It will take some time, but we ought to stand a good chance. You are fond of reading, and know no end of poetry, and where I have a pull is in knowing French and German so well. I can give them some fine translations from the Latin and Greek too, for the matter of that, and put the authors’ names underneath. That will impress the judges, and make ’em decide in our favour. I’ve been working at it only three days, and I’ve got over fifty quotations already. We must keep note-books in our pockets, and jot down any ideas that occur to us during the day, and go over them together at night. You will know a lot, I’m sure.”

    “‘Sorrow and silence are strong,
            and patient endurance is godlike,
    Therefore accomplish thy labour of love,
            till the heart is made godlike.’”

quoted Peggy with an air; and Rob nodded approval.

“That’s it! That’s the style! Something with a bit of a sermon in it to keep ’em up to the mark for the day. Bravo, Mariquita! you’ll do it splendidly. That’s settled, then. We shall have to work hard, for there is only a month before it must be sent off, and we must finish in good time. When you leave things to the last, something is bound to come in the way. It will take an age to write out three hundred and sixty-five extracts.”

“It will indeed, for they must be very nicely done,” said Peggy fastidiously. “Of course it is most important that the extracts themselves should be good, but it matters almost as much that they should look neat and attractive. Appearances go such a long way.” And when Robert demurred, and stated his opinion that the judges would not trouble their heads about looks, she stuck firmly to her point.

“Oh, won’t they, though! Just imagine how you would feel if you were in their position, and had to look over scores of ugly, uninteresting manuscripts. You would be bored to death, and, after plodding conscientiously through a few dozen, you would get so mixed up that you would hardly be able to distinguish one from another. Then suddenly—suddenly,”—Peggy clasped her hands with one of her favourite dramatic gestures—“you would see before you a dainty little volume, prettily written, easy to read, easy to hold, nice to look at, and do you mean to say that your heart wouldn’t give a jump, and that you would not take a fancy to the writer from that very moment? Of course you would; and so, if you please, I am going to look after the decorative department, and see what can be done. I must give my mind to it—Oh! I’ll tell you what would be just the thing. When I was in the library one day lately I saw some sweet little note-books with pale green leaves and gilt edges. I’ll count the pages, and buy enough to make up three hundred and sixty-five, and twelve extra, so as to put one plain sheet between each month. Then we must have a cover. Two pieces of cardboard would do, with gilt edges, and a motto in Old English letters—‘The months in circling-orbit fly.’ Have I read that somewhere, or did I make it up? It sounds very well. Well, what next?” Peggy was growing quite excited, and the restless hands were waving about at a great rate. “Oh, the pages! We shall have to put the date at the top of each. I could do that in gold ink, and make a pretty little skriggle—er—‘arabesque’ I should say, underneath, to give it a finish. Then I’d hand them on to you to write the extracts in your tiny little writing. Rob, it will be splendid! Do you really think we shall get the prize?”

“I mean to get it! We have a good library here, and plenty of time, if we like to use it. I’m going to get up at six every morning. I shan’t fail for want of trying, and if I miss this I’ll win something else. My mind is made up! I’m going to buy that microscope!” Robert tossed his head and looked ferocious, while Peggy peered in his rugged face, and, womanlike, admired him the more for his determination.

They lingered in the garden discussing details, planning out the work, and arranging as to the different books to be overlooked until the tea hour was passed, and Mrs Asplin came to the door and called to them to come in.

“And nothing on your feet but your thin slippers? Oh, you Peggy!” she exclaimed in despair. “Now you will have a cold, and ten to one it will fly to your throat. I shall have to line you a penny every time you cross the doorstep without changing your shoes. Summer is over, remember. You can’t be too careful in these raw, damp days. Run upstairs this minute and change your stockings.”

Peggy looked meek, and went to her room at once to obey orders; but the mischief was done—she shivered, and could not get warm, her head ached, and her eyes felt heavy. Mrs Asplin looked anxiously at her in the drawing-room after dinner, and finally called her to her side.

“Peggy, come here! Aren’t you well? Let me feel your hand. Child, it’s like a coal! You are in a fever. Why didn’t you tell me at once?”

“Because I—really, it’s nothing, Mrs Asplin! Don’t be worried. I don’t know why I feel so hot. I was shivering only a minute ago.”

“Go straight upstairs and take a dose of ammoniated quinine. Turn on the fire in your room. Max! Robert! Oswald! Esther! Mellicent! will everyone please look after Peggy in the future, and see that she does not run out in her slippers!” cried Mrs Asplin in a despairing voice; and Peggy bolted out of the door, in haste to escape before more reproaches could be hurled at her head.

But an alarm of a more serious nature than a threatened cold was to take pla............
Join or Log In! You need to log in to continue reading
   
 

Login into Your Account

Email: 
Password: 
  Remember me on this computer.

All The Data From The Network AND User Upload, If Infringement, Please Contact Us To Delete! Contact Us
About Us | Terms of Use | Privacy Policy | Tag List | Recent Search  
©2010-2018 wenovel.com, All Rights Reserved