More About Peggy | Page 4

sensitive about their position who have the least claim to distinction; but as she does my hair better than any one else, and is an admirable dressmaker, I am, of course, anxious to keep her happy."
The big man looked down with a suspicious glance. Through his not very keen sensibilities there had penetrated the suspicion that the small person in the white frock was daring to smile at him and amuse herself at his expense; but his suspicion died at once before the glance of infantile sweetness which met his own. Pretty little thing! there was something marvellously taking in her appearance. For one moment, as she had spoken of inferior station, he had had an uneasy fear lest he had made the acquaintance of some vulgar upstart, with whom he could not possibly associate. But no! If ever the signs of race and breeding were distinguishable in personal appearance, they were so in the case of the girl before him. A glance at the head in its graceful setting, the delicate features, the dainty hands and feet, was sufficient to settle the question in the mind of a man who prided himself on being an adept in such matters. To his own surprise, he found himself floundering through a complimentary denial of her own estimate of herself, and being rescued from a breakdown by a gracious acknowledgment.
"Praise," murmured the young lady sweetly--"praise from Major Darcy is praise indeed! When `Haughty Hector' deigns to approve--"
The big man jumped as if he had been shot, and turned a flushed, excited face upon her.
"Wh-at?" he gasped. "What do you say? You know me--you know my old home name! Who are you, then? Who can you be?"
The girl rose to her feet and stood before him. The top of her smooth little head barely reached his shoulders, but she held herself with an air of dignity which gave an appearance of far greater height. For one long minute they stared at one another in silence; then she stretched out her hand and laid it frankly in his own.
"Why, I'm Peggy!" she cried. "Don't you remember me? I'm Peggy Saville!"
CHAPTER TWO.
Hector Darcy knitted his brows, and started in bewilderment at the little figure before him. "Peggy Saville!" he repeated blankly. "No, you cannot mean it! The little girl who had lessons with Rob, and who saved Rosalind's life at the time of the fire? The little girl I met at The Larches with the pale face, and the pink sash, and the pigtail down her back?"
"The self-same Peggy--at your service!"--and Miss Saville swept a curtesy in which dignity mingled with mischief. Her eyes were sparkling with pleasure, and Major the Honourable Hector Darcy--to give that gentleman his full title--looked hardly less radiant than herself. Here was a piece of luck--to make the acquaintance of an interesting and attractive girl at the very beginning of a voyage, and then to discover in her an intimate friend of the family! True, he himself had seen little of her personally, but the name of Peggy Saville was a household word with his people, and one memorable Christmas week, which they had spent together at The Larches in years gone by, might be safely accepted as the foundation of a friendship.
"Of course I remember you!" he cried. "We had fine romps together, you and I. You danced me off my feet one night, and gave me my death of cold putting up a snow man the next day. I have never forgotten Peggy Saville, but you have changed so much that I did not recognise you, and I did not see your name."
"I noticed yours in the list of passengers, and then I looked out for you, and recognised you at once. There was a Darcy look about the back of your head which could not be mistaken! I meant to ask father to introduce you to me after lunch, but the book has taken his place. So you think I have changed! I have `growed,' of course, and the pigtail has disappeared; but in other respects there is not so much alteration as could be desired. My father tells me, on an average three times a day, that I shall remain the same `Peggy-Pickle' all my life."
"That sounds bad! So far as my remembrance goes, you used to be a mischievous little person, always getting into scrapes and frightening the wits out of your companions."
"Ah!" sighed Miss Saville dolorously. "Ah-h!" She shook her head with a broken-hearted air, and looked so overwhelmed with compunction for her misdeeds, that if it had not been for a treacherous dimple that defied her control, the major would have felt remorseful at awakening a painful memory. As it was he laughed heartily, and cried aloud:
"When you look like that, I can