"I did."

"I will, too," she said.

"WILL you?"

She nodded vigorously:

"I will--INDEED I will. From now on I'll do everythin' they tell me an'
learn everythin' they teach me, if it kills me!"

"I wish you would," he said seriously.

"An' when I pass everybody else, an' know more than anyone EVER
knew--will ye be very proud of me?"

"Yes, Peg. Even more than I am now."

"Are ye NOW?"

"I am. Proud to think you are my friend."

"Ye'd ha' won yer wager. We ARE friends, aren't we?"

"I am YOURS."

"Sure, I'm YOURS ALL RIGHT."

She looked at him, laughed shyly and pressed her cheeks. He was
watching her closely.

"What are you laughing at?" he asked.

"Do ye know what Tom Moore wrote about Friendship?"

"No."

"Shall I tell ye?" excitedly.

"Do."

"See if anywan's comin' first." As he looked around the room and
outside the door to detect the advent of an intruder Peg sat at the
piano and played very softly the prelude to an old Irish song.

As Jerry walked back he said surprisedly: "Oh! so you play?"

Peg nodded laughingly.

"Afther a fashion. Me father taught me. Me aunt can't bear it. An' the
teacher in the house said it was DREADFUL and that I must play scales
for two years more before I thry a tune. She said I had no ear."

Jerry laughed as he replied: "I think they're very pretty."

"DO ye? Well watch THEM an' mebbe ye won't mind me singin' so much. An'
afther all ye're only a farmer, aren't ye?"

"Hardly that," and Jerry laughed again.

Her fingers played lightly over the keys for a moment.

"This is called 'A Temple to Friendship,'" she explained.

"Indeed?"

"And it's about a girl who built a shrine and she thought she wanted to
put 'Friendship' into it. She THOUGHT she wanted 'Friendship.' Afther a
while she found out her mistake. Listen:" And Peg sang, in a pure,
tremulous little voice that vibrated with feeling the following:

"'A temple to Friendship,' said Laura enchanted,
'I'll build in this garden: the thought is divine!'
Her temple was built and she now only wanted
An Image of Friendship to place on the shrine.

She flew to a sculptor who set down before her
A Friendship the fairest his art could invent!
But so cold and so dull that the Youthful adorer
Saw plainly this was not the idol she meant.

'Oh! never,' she cried, 'could I think of enshrining
An image whose looks are so joyless and dim--
But yon li