for her to remain in her room
this evening? In that case, what would Margaret do? Would she leave her
to Elizabeth's care, and come down as usual?

"Certainly not!" Margaret replied. "Elizabeth will stay with Peggy at
tea-time, but otherwise I shall not leave her. You don't mind staying
alone, Rita? Of course, there is not much to be done; Peggy is not ill
at all, only weak and tired, but she likes to have me with her. You will
not be lonely?"

No; Rita had letters to write. She should do very well. Desolated, of
course, without the two who were her soul and her existence; but
Margaret understood that she could not bear the sight of sickness; it
had been thus from infancy. Margaret nodded kindly, and went back into
Peggy's room, with an impression that Rita was pleased at having her out
of the way. Out of the way of what? But Margaret could not think about
mysteries now. Peggy wanted to talk, and to have her head stroked, and
to know that Margaret was near her.

"Your hand is so smooth, Margaret. I never felt anything like it; and
the smoothness and coolness seem to go into my head, and stop the
aching. Do you think this is being sick? If it is, I like it."

Margaret saw that the child was excited, and her eyes were overbright.
"No; this is not being sick," she said quietly. "But you ought to be
sleepy by this time, my pussy. Lie still now, like a good child, and I
will sing to you. Will you have the 'Bonny House o' Airlie?'"

But it was long before Peggy could be quieted. She wanted to talk. She
was full of reminiscences of former "croppers" in the lives of the
various members of her family. She wanted to tell how Jim was dragged by
the buffalo bull he was taming; how Pa caught the young grizzly by his
paws, and held him until George came with the rifle; how Brown Billy ran
away with her when she was six years old, and how she held on by his
mane till he lay down and rolled in the creek, and then swam ashore. Her
brain was feverishly excited, and it was not till late in the evening
that Margaret succeeded in singing and soothing the tired girl to sleep.
At length Peggy lay still, and her thoughts began to sink away into soft
dreams, lulled by the soft hand on her brow, and the smooth, sweet voice
in her ears. She opened her eyes to say, "I love you, Margaret; I love
you best, over and over, all the time. If I thought I didn't for a bit,
that was just because I was a stupid, and she--but now I know." And
Peggy smi