olding at arm's
length a disgraceful looking mongrel, went out, almost on the verge of
tears.

Peg looked down and found Alaric sitting at a desk near the door
staring at her in disgust.

He was such a funny looking little fellow to Peg that she could not
feel any resentment toward him. His sleek well-brushed hair; his
carefully creased and admirably-cut clothes; his self-sufficiency; and
above all his absolute assurance that whatever he did was right, amused
Peg immensely. He was an entirely new type of young man to her and she
was interested. She smiled at him now in a friendly way and said: "Ye
must know 'Michael' is simply crazy about mutton. He LOVES mutton."

Alaric turned indignantly away from her. Peg followed him up. He had
begun to fascinate her. She looked at his baby-collar with a well-tied
bow gleaming from the centre; at his pointed shoes; his curious,
little, querulous look. He was going to be good fun for Peg. She wanted
to begin at once. And she would have too, not the icy accents of Mrs.
Chichester interrupted Peg's plans for the moment.

"Come here," called Mrs. Chichester.

Peg walked over to her and when she got almost beside the old lady she
turned to have another glimpse at Alaric and gave him a little,
chuckling, good-natured laugh.

"Look at ME!" commanded Mrs. Chichester sternly.

"Yes, ma'am," replied Peg, with a little curtsey. Mrs. Chichester
closed her eyes for a moment. What was to be done with this barbarian?
Why should this affliction be thrust upon her? Then she thought of the
thousand pounds a year. She opened her eyes and looked severely at Peg.

"Don't call me 'ma'am'!" she said.

"No, ma'am," replied Peg nervously, then instantly corrected herself:
"No, ANT! No, ANT!"

"AUNT!" said Mrs. Chichester haughtily. "AUNT. Not ANT."

Alaric commented to Ethel:

"ANT! Like some little crawly insect."

Peg heard him, looked at him and laughed. He certainly was odd. Then
she looked at Ethel, then at Mr. Hawkes, then all round the room as if
she missed someone. Finally she faced Mrs. Chichester again.

"Are you me Uncle Nat's widdy?"

"No, I am not," contradicted the old lady sharply.

"Then how are you me--AUNT?" demanded Peg.

"I am your mother's sister," replied Mrs. Chichester.

"Oh!" cried Peg. "Then your name's Monica?"

"It is."

"What do ye think of that?" said Peg under her breath. She
surreptitiously opened out the miniature and looked at it, then she
scruti