rself
with Neil Stewart that she had been invited to spend September at
Severndale? And, little as Peggy suspected it, with the full
determination of spending the remainder of her days there could she
contrive to do so. Madam Stewart had blocked out her campaign most
completely, only "the best laid plans," etc., and Madam had quite
forgotten to take Mrs. Glenn Harold, Peggy's stanchest champion and
ally, into consideration. Mrs. Harold had been Peggy's "guide,
philosopher and friend" for one round year, and Mrs. Harold's niece,
Polly Howland, was Peggy's chum and crony.

Mrs. Stewart felt a peculiar sensation pass over her as she met the
girl's clear, steady gaze. Very much the sensation that one experiences
upon looking into a clear pool whose depth it is impossible to guess
from merely looking, though one feels instinctively that it is much
deeper, and may prove more dangerous than a casual glance would lead one
to believe. Peggy's reply was:

"Of course if you wish it, Aunt Katherine, Tzaritza shall not come into
the house during your visit here. I do not wish you to be annoyed, but
on the contrary, quite happy, and, Jerome, please see that Sultana is
taken to Mammy, and ask her to keep her in her quarters while Mrs.
Stewart remains at Severndale. Are you ready for your breakfast, Aunt
Katherine?"

"Quite ready," answered Mrs. Stewart, taking her seat at the table.
Peggy waited until she had settled herself with the injured poodle in
her lap, then took her own seat. Jerome had summoned one of the maids
and given Sultana into her charge, while Tzaritza was bidden "Guard"
upon the piazza. Never in all her royal life had Tzaritza been elsewhere
than upon the rug before the fireplace while her mistress' breakfast was
being served, and it seemed as though the splendid wolfhound, with a
pedigree unrivalled in the world, stood as the very incarnation of
outraged dignity, and a protest against insult. Perhaps some vague sense
of having overstepped the bounds of good judgment, if not good breeding,
was beginning to impress itself upon Mrs. Peyton Stewart. Certainly she
had not so thoroughly ingratiated herself in the favor of her niece, or
her niece's friends during that visit in New London the previous summer,
as to feel entirely sure of a cordial welcome at Severndale, and to make
a false start at the very outset of her carefully formed plans was a far
cry from diplomatic, to say the least. During those weeks at New
Lon