Three Margarets | Page 8

so,
preferring the safer remark that it was a delightful day.
"When you have finished your breakfast," she said, "we will go out into
the garden. I can see a bit of it from here, and it looks lovely. Oh! I can
just catch a glimpse of the swing. I wonder if it is the same old one. I
love to swing, don't you?"
"I like shinning better!" said Peggy, putting half a muffin in her mouth.
"Can you shin?"
"Shin! what--oh! up a tree, you mean. I'm afraid not."
"I can!" said Peggy triumphantly. "I can beat most of the boys at it,
only Ma won't let me do it, on account of my clothes. Says I'm too old,
too; bother! I'm not going to be a primmy, just because I am fifteen.
How old are you, Margaret?"
"Seventeen; and as two years make a great difference, you know,
Peggy, I shall put on all the airs of an elder sister. You know the Elder
Sister's part,--
"Good advice and counsel sage, And 'I never did so when I was your
age!'"
"All right!" said Peggy. "I'll call you elder sister. Ma always says I
ought to have had one, instead of being one."
"Well, first comes something that we must both do; that is, go and see
Mrs. Cheriton; and if you will let me, dear, I am going to tie your
necktie for you."
Peggy submitted meekly, while Margaret pulled the crumpled white tie
round to the front, re-tied, patted, and poked it. Then her hair must be

coaxed a little--or not so very little!--and then--
"What have you done to your frock, child? it is buttoned all crooked!
Why, isn't there a looking-glass in your room?"
"Oh, yes!" said Peggy. "But I hate to look in the glass! There's sure to
be something the matter, and I do despise fussing over clothes."
By this time Margaret had rebuttoned the dress, with a sigh over the
fact that the buttons did not match it, and that one sleeve was put in
wrong. Now she declared that they must go without more delay, and
Elizabeth came to show them the way.
Peggy hung back, muttering that she never knew what to say to
strangers; but Margaret took her hand firmly, and drew her along.
Perhaps Margaret may have felt a little nervous herself about this
strange lady, who never left her rooms, and yet was to entertain and
care for them, as her uncle's note had said. Both girls followed in
silence, as Elizabeth led them through the hall, past a door, then down
three steps and along a little passage to another door, at which she
knocked.
"Come in!" said a pleasant voice. Elizabeth opened the door and
motioned the girls to enter.
"The young ladies, ma'am!" she said; and then shut the door and went
away.
The sudden change from the dark passage to the white room was
dazzling. It was a small room, and it seemed to be all white: walls,
floor (covered with a white India matting), furniture, and all. The
strange lady sat in a great white armchair. She wore a gown of soft
white cashmere, and her hair, and her cap, her hands, and her face,
were all different shades of white, each softer than the other. Only her
eyes were brown; and as she looked kindly at the girls and smiled, they
thought they had never seen anything so beautiful in their lives.

"Why, children," she said; "do you think I am a ghost? Come here,
dears, and let me look at you! I am real, I assure you." She laughed, the
softest little laugh, hardly more than a rustle, and held out her hand.
Margaret came forward at once, still dragging Peggy after her,--Peggy,
whose eyes were so wide open, it looked as if she might never be able
to shut them again.
Mrs. Cheriton took a hand of each, and looked earnestly from one to
the other.
"How are you called?" she asked. "I know that you have the same
name."
"We thought I had better be Margaret," was the timid reply from the
girl who was able to speak, "and this is Peggy."
"I see!" said the old lady, putting her hand on Peggy's flaxen mane.
"You look like Peggy, little one! I used to call my sister Peggy. And
where is the third Margaret?"
"She has not come down yet; she had a headache last night," said
Margaret, losing all shyness before the kindly glance of those soft
brown eyes. "She is called Rita, and she is very beautiful."
[Illustration: AUNT FAITH'S ROOM.]
"That is pleasant!" said Mrs. Cheriton. "I like pretty people, when they
are good as well. You are a Montfort, Margaret! You have the Montfort
mouth,