n
a long, long time, for when the door reopened, the French hat had
disappeared, and it was the real old Peggy-Pickle who smiled and nodded
and peaked her brows beneath the scarlet cap.

"The Tam o' Shanter! Rob has brought it back after all these years. He
kept it until you could wear it again. Goodness, how touching! I never
thought _you_ would turn sentimental, Rob!" cried Mellicent the
tactless, and the next moment devoutly wished she had held her peace, as
Rob scowled, Esther pinched her arm, and Peggy trod on her toe with
automatic promptness. She turned on her heel and strode back to the
dining-room, while Peggy flicked the cap off her head, trying hard to
look unconscious, and to continue her investigations as if nothing
embarrassing had occurred.

"There's the old stain on the floor where I spilt the ink, and the
little marks all the way upstairs where the corners of my box took off
the paint. Dear, dear, how home-like they look! I must see cook after
tea, and Diddums, my sweet little kitten. How is the darling? As
pretty and fluffy and playful as ever?"

"Peggy dear, do _not_ be silly!"

"Esther dear, I cannot help it! I'm too happy to be sensible. Let me
be silly for just one day. _What_, is that Diddums? That ugly, lanky,
old cat? You've aged terribly, Diddums, since I saw you last. Ah me,
ah me, the years tell on us all! Tell me, dear--be faithful!--are you
as much shocked at the change in _me_?"

Peggy looked up archly, and met Rob's deep, earnest gaze. She put down
the cat, rose suddenly, and thrust her hand through Esther's arm. Her
cheeks were very pink, her eyes astonishingly bright. Esther looked at
her critically, and pursed up her lips in disapproving fashion.

Certainly Peggy had grown into a very pretty girl, but it was a thousand
pities that she had not yet outgrown the eccentricities of her youth.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

When Peggy had been staying a week at the vicarage, her parents came
down from town on a two days' visit, especially arranged to give them an
opportunity of looking over Yew Hedge. Colonel Saville's scant supply
of patience was fast giving out beneath the strain of disappointment,
and he declared his intention of buying the first habitable house he
saw, while his wife and daughter were reluctantly forced to the
conclusion that it was impossible to procure an ancestral estate at the
price of a suburban villa. Yew Hedge, therefore, appeared the refuge o