felt better in all my life. An' why d'ye
ask me that?"

"You're flushed."

"I'm sorry," she replied demurely, "that you've a distaste for the
color in my cheeks. I wish I might be able t' rub it off t' suit ye."

He smiled.

"I never seed ye so rosy afore," said he. "You're jus' bloomin' like a
flower, Peggy."

"Ah, well," the mendacious little creature replied, with an
indifferent shrug of her soft shoulders, "mostly I'm not rosy at all,
but there's days when I is. I'm sorry you're offended by rosy cheeks
like mine. I'll try not t' have it happen again when you're about."

"I'm not offended, Peggy."

There was that in Dickie Blue's voice to make Peggy Lacey's heart
flutter.

"No?" says she.

"Far from it."

"I--I'm s'prised!"

"You--you is jus' beautiful the night, Peggy!"

"The night?"

"An' always was an' always will be!"

"I can't believe ye think it."

Dickie Blue went close to Peggy then. "Peggy," said he, "was there a
ring in the wee box I fetched you the night?"

"No, sir."

"Is you betrothed, Peggy?"

Peggy dropped her head to hide the tears. She was more afraid than
ever. Yet she must listen, she knew, and reply with courage and truth.

"I--I'm not," she faltered.

"God be thanked!" said Dickie Blue. "Ah, Peggy, Peggy," he whispered,
"I loves you!"

"You mustn't say it, Dickie!"

"I can't help myself."

All at once Peggy Lacey's conscience submerged her spirit in a flood
of reproaches. There was no maid more false in all the world, she
knew, than her own wicked self.

"Dickie," she began, "I--I----"

"Has you no word o' love for me, Peggy? I--I jus' crave it, Peggy,
with all my heart. Yes, I do!"

"Stay jus' where you is!" Peggy sobbed. "Don't you budge a inch,
Dickie! I'll be back in a minute."

With that she fled. She vanished, indeed, in full flight, into that
chamber whence she had issued radiantly rosy a few moments before,
once more abandoning Dickie Blue to an interval of salutary
reflection. To intrude in pursuit, of course--for the whole troop of
us to intrude, curious and gaping, upon those swift measures which
Peggy Lacey was impetuously executing in relief of the shafts of her
accusing conscience--would be a breach of manners too gross even to
contemplate; but something may be inferred from a significant
confusion of sounds which the closed door failed altogether to
conceal. There was clink of pitcher and basin; there was a great
splash of water, as of wate