the result of the long
hours' work stolen from sleep, and a dead weight of depression had
settled on her spirits. It seemed of a sudden that all this work and
effort was waste of time; that the chances of being successful were
infinitesimally small; that even if it were gained, the prize was of
little value; that if Robert's absence for four days made such a
difference in the life at the vicarage, it would become altogether
unbearable when he said good-bye at the beginning of the year and went
up to Oxford; that she was a desperately unfortunate little unit, thrust
into the midst of a family which was complete in itself, and had only a
kindly toleration to offer to a stranger; that, in all probability,
there would shortly be a war in India, when her father would be killed,
her mother die of a broken heart, and Arthur be called out to join the
ranks of the recruits. She conjured up a touching picture of herself,
swathed in crape, bidding good-bye to her brother at the railway
station, and watching the scarlet coat disappear in the distance, as the
train steamed away. It was all most miserable and picturesque, and
outside the fog gathered, and the rain poured down in a fine, persistent
drizzle. It was one of those typical November days when it seems as if
the earth itself is in the blues, and that it becomes everyone living on
its surface to follow its example.

When afternoon came Peggy curled herself in an arm-chair in the corner
of the study, and stared gloomily at the fire. It was four o'clock. In
another hour the postman would call for the letters, and she would
deliver the precious packet into his hands. She had made it up in the
dinner-hour, with some faint idea of carrying it to the village; but she
was tired, the rain poured, and Rob had said that the afternoon post
would do. She had given up the idea of going out, and taken a nap
instead on the top of her bed. And now it was four o'clock. Mellicent
called out that she was dying for tea-time to come; it had seemed such a
long, long day; they really ought to have tea earlier on these dreary,
murky afternoons. "_I want my tea_!" she chanted, in shrill,
penetrating tones, and instantly the refrain was taken up by the other
voices, and repeated over and over again with ever-increasing volume,
until the mistress of the house rushed in to discover the reason of the
clamour.

"Bless your hearts, you shall have it at once!" she cried. "I'll ring
and have it