Peggy Stewart at School | Page 4

New London, and who had been at such infinite pains to
ingratiate herself with Neil Stewart that she had been invited to spend
September at Severndale? And, little as Peggy suspected it, with the
full determination of spending the remainder of her days there could
she contrive to do so. Madam Stewart had blocked out her campaign
most completely, only "the best laid plans," etc., and Madam had quite

forgotten to take Mrs. Glenn Harold, Peggy's stanchest champion and
ally, into consideration. Mrs. Harold had been Peggy's "guide,
philosopher and friend" for one round year, and Mrs. Harold's niece,
Polly Howland, was Peggy's chum and crony.
Mrs. Stewart felt a peculiar sensation pass over her as she met the girl's
clear, steady gaze. Very much the sensation that one experiences upon
looking into a clear pool whose depth it is impossible to guess from
merely looking, though one feels instinctively that it is much deeper,
and may prove more dangerous than a casual glance would lead one to
believe. Peggy's reply was:
"Of course if you wish it, Aunt Katherine, Tzaritza shall not come into
the house during your visit here. I do not wish you to be annoyed, but
on the contrary, quite happy, and, Jerome, please see that Sultana is
taken to Mammy, and ask her to keep her in her quarters while Mrs.
Stewart remains at Severndale. Are you ready for your breakfast, Aunt
Katherine?"
"Quite ready," answered Mrs. Stewart, taking her seat at the table.
Peggy waited until she had settled herself with the injured poodle in her
lap, then took her own seat. Jerome had summoned one of the maids
and given Sultana into her charge, while Tzaritza was bidden "Guard"
upon the piazza. Never in all her royal life had Tzaritza been elsewhere
than upon the rug before the fireplace while her mistress' breakfast was
being served, and it seemed as though the splendid wolfhound, with a
pedigree unrivalled in the world, stood as the very incarnation of
outraged dignity, and a protest against insult. Perhaps some vague
sense of having overstepped the bounds of good judgment, if not good
breeding, was beginning to impress itself upon Mrs. Peyton Stewart.
Certainly she had not so thoroughly ingratiated herself in the favor of
her niece, or her niece's friends during that visit in New London the
previous summer, as to feel entirely sure of a cordial welcome at
Severndale, and to make a false start at the very outset of her carefully
formed plans was a far cry from diplomatic, to say the least. During
those weeks at New London, when a kind fate had brought her again in
touch with her brother-in-law after so many years, Mrs. Stewart had

done a vast deal of thinking and planning. There was beautiful
Severndale without a mistress excepting Peggy, a mere child, who, in
Madam's estimation, did not count. Neil Stewart was a widower in the
very prime of life and, from all Madam had observed, sorely in need of
someone to look after him and keep him from making some foolish
marriage which might end in--well, in not keeping Severndale in the
family; "the family" being strongly in evidence in Mrs. Peyton. Her
first step had been to secure an invitation to visit there. That done, the
next was to remain there indefinitely once she arrived upon the scene.
To do this she must make herself not only desirable but indispensable.
Certainly, the preceding two days had not promised much for the
fulfillment of her plan. So being by no means a fool, but on the
contrary, a very clever woman in her own peculiar line of cleverness,
she at once set about dispelling the cloud which hung over the horizon,
congratulating herself that she had had sufficient experience to know
how to deal with a girl of Peggy's age. So to that end she now smiled
sweetly upon her niece and remarked:
"I am afraid, dear, I almost lost control of myself. I am so attached to
Toinette that I am quite overcome if any harm threatens her. You know
she has been my inseparable companion in my loneliness, and when
one is so utterly desolate as I have been for so many years even the
devotion of a dumb animal is valued. I have been very, very lonely
since your uncle's death, Peggy, dear, and you can hardly understand
what a paradise seems opening to me in this month to be spent with you.
I know we are going to be everything to each other, and I am sure I can
relieve you of a thousand burdens which must be a great tax upon a girl
of your years. I do not see how you have carried them so wonderfully,
or why you are not old