"Will ye give me another minnit--NOW--PLEASE," called Peg, after her,
excitedly.

Ethel looked at the letter in her hand, hesitated, then re-entered the
room and went down to Peg and said gently:

"All right"

"Only just a minnit," repeated Peg, breathlessly.

"What do you want, Margaret?"

"I want ye to tell me somethin'."

"What is it?"

Peg paused--looked at Ethel bashfully--dropped her eyes to the
ground--took a deep breath--then said as fast as she could speak:

"Do ye know anything about--about LOVE?"

"Love?" echoed Ethel, very much astonished.

"Yes," said Peg. "Have ye ever been in love?" and she wanted
expectantly for Ethel's answer.

Ethel put the letter she had just written to Mr. Brent slowly behind
her back and answered coldly:

"No. I have not."

"Have ye ever THOUGHT about it?"

"Yes."

"WHAT do ye think about it?" questioned Peg eagerly.

"Rot!" replied Ethel, decidedly.

"ROT? ROT?" cried Peg, unable to believe her ears.

"Sentimental nonsense that only exists in novels."

"Ye're wrong!" insisted the anxious Peg; "ye're wrong. It's the most
wondherful thing in the wurrld!"

Ethel brought the letter up to her eyes and read the superscription.
"Think so?" she asked calmly.

"I do," cried Peg hotly. "I do. It's the most wondherful thing in the
whole wurrld. To love a good man, who loves you. A man that made ye hot
and cold by turns: burnin' like fire one minnit an' freezin' like ice
the next. Who made yer heart leap with happiness when he came near ye,
an' ache with sorrow when he went away from ye. Haven't ye ever felt
like that, Ethel?"

"Never!" replied Ethel, positively.

Peg went on: "Oh! it's mighty disturbin', I'm tellin' ye. Sometimes ye
walk on air, an' at others yer feet are like lead. An' at one time the
wurrld's all beautiful flowers and sweet music and grand poetry--an' at
another it's all coffins, an' corpses, an' shrouds." She shook her head
seriously: "Oh! I tell ye it's mighty disturbin'."

Ethel looked at her inquiringly:

"How do you know this?"

Peg grew confused, then answered hurriedly:

"I've been readin' about it--in a book. It's wondherful--that's what it
is."

"When you're a little older you will think differently," corrected
Ethel, severely. "You will realise then that it is all very primitive."

"PRIMITIVE?" asked Peg, disappointedly.

"Of the earth--earthy," answered Ethel.

Peg thought a moment: "Sure I suppose _I_ am then." She lo