little wonder. I'll miss you
terribly--really I will."

Peg whispered:

"Did ye know about that five thousand pounds when I'm twenty-one?"

"'Course I did. That was why I proposed. To save the roof." Alaric was
nothing if not honest.

"Ye'd have sacrificed yeself by marryin' ME?" quizzed Peg.

"Like a shot."

"There's somethin' of the hero about you, Alaric!"

"Oh, I mustn't boast," he replied modestly. "It's all in the family."

"Well, I'm glad ye didn't have to do it," Peg remarked positively.

"So am I. Jolly good of you to say 'No.' All the luck in the world to
you. Drop me a line or a picture-card from New York. Look you up on my
way to Canada--if I ever really go. 'Bye!" The young man walked over to
the door calling over his shoulder to Jerry: "See ye lurchin' about
somewhere, old dear!" and he too went out of Peg's life.

She looked at Ethel and half entreated, half commanded Jerry:

"Plaze look out of the window for a minnit. I want to spake to me
cousin." Jerry sauntered over to the window and stood looking at the
gathering storm.

"Is that all over?" whispered Peg.

"Yes," replied Ethel, in a low tone.

"Ye'll never see him again?"

"Never. I'll write him that. What must you think of me?"

"I thought of you all last night," said Peg eagerly. "Ye seem like some
one who's been lookin' for happiness in the dark with yer eyes shut.
Open them wide, dear, and look at the beautiful things in the daylight
and then you'll be happy."

Ethel shook her head sadly:

"I feel to-day that I'll never know happiness again."

"Sure, I've felt like that many a time since I've been here. Ye know
three meals a day, a soft bed to slape in an' everythin' ye want
besides, makes ye mighty discontented. If ye'd go down among the poor
once in a while an' see what they have to live on, an' thry and help
them, ye might find comfort and peace in doin' it."

Ethel put both of her hands affectionately on Peg's shoulders.

"Last night you saved me from myself--and then; you shielded me from my
family."

"Faith I'd do THAT for any poor girl, much less me own cousin."

"Don't think too hardly of me, Margaret. Please!" she entreated.

"I don't, dear. It wasn't yer fault. It was yer mother's."

"My mother's?"

"That's what I said. It's all in the way, we're brought up what we
become aftherwards. Yer mother, raised ye in a hot house instead of
thrustin' ye out into the cold winds of the wurrld when ye were young
a