bly been rubbing it
in how well she knew Dr. Denbigh. The last day Peggy was home, at the
table, they were chaffing Aunt Elizabeth about him, the way grown-ups
do, instead of talking about the facts of life and different kinds of
horse-feed, which is important in the winter. And I heard mother say in
a "sort-of-vochy" tone to Peggy:

"They really seem to be fond of each other. Perhaps there may be an
engagement to write you about, Peggy."

I thought to myself that mother didn't know that Dr. Denbigh was
prejudiced to being engaged, but I didn't say anything--it's wise not to
say anything to your family beyond the necessary jargon of living. Peggy
seemed to think the same, for she didn't answer a syllabus, but after
dropping her glass of water into the fried potatoes which Lena was
kindly handing to her, she jumped and scooted. A few minutes later
I wanted her to sew a sail on a boat, so I tried her door and it was
locked, and then I knocked and she took an awfully long time simply to
open that door, and when she did her eyes were red and she was shivering
as if she was cold.

"Oh, Billy, Billy!" she said, and then, of all things, she grabbed me
and kissed me.

I wriggled loose, and I said: "Sew up this sail for me, will you?
Hustle!"

But she didn't pay attention. "Oh, Billy, be a little good to me!" she
said. "I'm so wretched, and nobody knows but you. Oh, Billy--he likes
somebody better than me!"

"Who does?" I asked. "Father?"

She half laughed, a sort of sickly laugh. "No, Billy. Not
father--he--Jack--Dr. Denbigh. Oh, you know. Billy! You heard what
mother said."

"O--o--oh!" I answered her, in a contemplating slowness. "Oh--that's so!
Do you mind if he gets engaged to Aunt Elizabeth?"

"Do--I--MIND?" said Peggy, as if she was astonished. "Mind? Billy, I'll
love him till I die. It would break my heart."

"Oh no, it wouldn't," I told her, because I thought I'd sort of comfort
her. "That's truck. You can't break muscles just by loving. But I know
how you feel, because that's the way I felt when father gave that Irish
setter to the Tracys."

She went on chattering her teeth as if she was cold, so I put the
table-cover around her. "You dear Billy," she said. But that was stuff.

"I wouldn't bother," I said. "Likely he's forgotten about you. I often
forget things myself." That didn't seem to comfort her, for she began to
sob out loud. "Oh, now. Peg, don't cry," I observed to her. "He probably
likes Aunt