“Something has happened! Something terrible has happened to the child! And she was left in our charge. We are responsible. Oh, if any harm has happened to Peggy, however, ever, ever, can I bear to live and send the news to her parents—”
“My dearest, you have done your best; you could not have been kinder or more thoughtful. No blame can attach to you. Remember that Peggy is in higher hands than yours. However far from us she may be, she can never stray out of God’s keeping. It all seems very dark and mysterious, but—”
At this moment a loud rat-tat-tat sounded on the knocker, and with one accord the hearers darted into the hall, and stood panting and gasping, while Arthur threw open the door.
“Telegram, sir!” said a sharp, young voice, and the brown envelope which causes so much agitation in quiet households was thrust forward in a small cold hand. Arthur looked at the address and handed it to the vicar.
“It is for you, sir, but it cannot possibly be anything about—”
Mr Asplin tore open the envelope, glanced over the words, and broke into an exclamation of amazement. “It is! It is from Peggy herself!—‘Euston Station. Returning by 10.30 train. Please meet me at twelve o’clock.—Peggy.’ What in the world does it mean?” He looked round the group of anxious faces, only to see his own expression of bewilderment repeated on each in turn.
“Euston! Returning! She is in London. She is coming back from town!”
“She ran away to London, to-night when she was so happy, when Arthur had just arrived! Why? Why? Why?”
“She must have caught the seven o’clock train.”
“She must have left the house almost immediately after going upstairs to dress for dinner.”
“Oh, father, why should she go to London?”
“I am quite unable to tell you, my dear,” replied the vicar drily. He looked at his wife’s white, exhausted face, and his eyes flashed with the “A-word-with-you-in-my-study” expression, which argued ill for Miss Peggy’s reception. Mrs Asplin, however, was too thankful to know of the girl’s safety to have any thought for herself. She began to smile, with the tears still running down her face, and to draw long breaths of relief and satisfaction.
“It’s no use trying to guess at that, Millie dear. It is enough for me to know that she is alive and well. We shall just have to try and compose ourselves in patience until we hear Peggy’s own explanation. Let me see! There is nearly an hour before you need set out. What can we do to pass the time as quickly as possible?”
“Have some coffee, I should say! None of us have had too much dinner, and a little refreshment would be very welcome after all this strain,” said Arthur promptly, and Mrs Asplin eagerly welcomed the suggestion.
“That’s what I call a really practical proposal! Ring the bell, dear, and I will order it at once. I am sure we shall all have thankful hearts while we drink it.” She looked appealingly at Mr Asplin as she spoke; but there was no answering smile on his face, and the lines down his cheeks looked deeper and grimmer than ever.
“Oh, goody, goody, goodness, aren’t I glad I am not Peggy!” sighed Mellicent to herself; while Arthur Saville pursed his lips together, and thought, “Poor little Peg! She’ll catch it. I’ve never seen the dominie look so savage. This is a nice sort of treat for a fellow who has been ordered away for rest and refreshment! I wish the next two hours were safely over.”
Wishing, unfortunately, however, can never carry us over the painful crises of our lives. We have to face them as best we may, and Arthur needed all his cheery confidence to sustain him during the damp walk which followed, when the vicar tramped silently by his side, his shovel hat pulled over his eyes, his mackintosh coat flapping to and fro in the wind.
They reached the station in good time, and punctually to the minute the lights of the London express were seen in the distance. The train drew up, and among the few passengers who alighted the figure of Peggy, in her scarlet-trimmed hat, was easily distinguished. She was assisted out of the carriage by an elderly gentleman, in a big travelling coat, who stood by her side as she looked about for her friends. As Mr Asplin and Arthur approached, they only heard his hearty, “Now you are all right!” and Peggy’s elegant rejoinder, “Exceedingly indebted to you for all your kindness!” Then he stepped back into the carriage, and she came forward to meet them, half shy, half smiling, “I—I am afraid that you—”
“We will defer explanations, Mariquita, if you please, until we reach home. A fly is waiting. We will return as quickly as possible,” said the vicar frigidly; and the brother and sister lagged behind as he led the way out of the station, gesticulating and whispering together in furtive fashion.
“Oh, you Peggy! Now you have done it! No end of a row!”
“Couldn’t help it! Had to go. Stick to me, Arthur, whatever you do!”
“Like a leech! We’ll worry through somehow. Never say die!” Then the fly was reached, and they jolted home in silence.
Mrs Asplin and the four young folks were sitting waiting in the drawing-room, and each one turned an eager, excited face towards the doorway as Peggy entered, her cheeks white, but with shining eyes, and hair ruffled into little curls beneath the scarlet cap. Mrs Asplin would have rushed forward in welcome, but a look in her husband’s face restrained her, and there was a deathlike silence in the room as he took up his position by the mantelpiece.
“Mariquita,” he said slowly, “you have caused us to-night some hours of the most acute and painful anxiety which we have ever experienced. You disappeared suddenly from among us, and until ten o’clock, when your telegram arrived, we had not the faintest notion as to where you could be. The most tragic suspicions came to our minds. We have spent the evening in rushing to and fro, searching and inquiring in all directions. Mrs Asplin has had a shock from which, I fear, she will be some time in recovering. Your brother’s pleasure in his visit has been spoiled. We await your explanation. I am at a loss to imagine any reason sufficiently good to excuse such behaviour; but I will say no more until I have heard what you have to say.”
Peggy stood like a prisoner at the bar, with hanging head and hands clasped together. As the vicar spoke of his wife, she darted a look at Mrs Asplin, and a quiver of emotion passed over her face. When he had finished she drew a deep breath, raised her head and looked him full in the face with her bright, earnest eyes.
“I am sorry,” she said slowly. “I can’t tell you in words how sorry I am. I know it will be difficult, but I hope you will forgive me. I was thinking what I had better do while I was coming back in the train, and I decided that I ought to tell you everything, even though it is supposed to be a secret. Robert will forgive me, and it is Robert’s secret as much as mine. I’ll begin at the beginning. About five weeks ago Robert saw an advertisement of a prize that was offered by a magazine. You had to make up a calendar with quotations for every day in the year, and the person who sent in the best selection would get thirty pounds. Rob wanted the money very badly to buy a microscope, and he asked me to help him. I was to have ten pounds for myself if we won, but I didn’t care about that. I just wanted to help Rob. I said I would take the money, because I knew if I didn’t he would not let me work so hard, and I thought I would spend it in buying p–p–presents fo............