"'The ass upon the pivot of his skull Turned round a long left ear!'
There is no other quotation in the English language that would have fitted the case so perfectly."
"You and Grace seem to know Hugh about a hundred times as well as Peggy and I do," said Jean, pouting a little.
"Because they are clever, my dear, and we are not," said Peggy, cheerfully. "If you would learn things, Jean, English literature and all that, you might be able to talk to Hugh. As it is--"
"Well, I think Phil and Gerald are ever so much more fun, anyhow!" said Jean, saucily. "Hugh is poky!"
Seeing an elder-sisterly cloud gathering on Peggy's brow, Margaret hastened to interfere. "Girls," she said, "I have a confession to make. I was just going to make it, when the quotations turned me off the track. You know what Peggy was saying, about our all getting to know each other so well from staying in the house together. That reminded me of something, something I am very much ashamed of; and I think it would be good for my soul to confess it. But you must promise never to tell."
"We promise! We promise!" cried all the girls.
"Margaret," said Grace, "I have been looking for your sins ever since I came, but you were too clever for me; now I shall learn."
"Not my fault," said Margaret, merrily, "if you are a bat as well as a dozen other animals, my dear. Well, girls--oh, I am ashamed, and it really is most astonishingly virtuous of me to tell you about it. Peggy, just before you came, I was very blue; deeply, darkly, most unbeautifully blue!"
"Hear Peggy making rhymes! Yes, I, blue. You see, the children were gone, and I did miss them so, I hardly knew how to bear it. It is impossible for any one to have any idea, girls, how children, children that are little enough to need one's care, you know, and--and watching, and thinking about, and all--how they get inside your heart and just live there, all curled up in it, bless them! and these particular children are the very dearest ones that ever lived, I do believe. Well, so they were gone, and my heart seemed empty; wickedly and abominably empty, for there was my own dearest uncle, and there were you, my own Peggy, coming to spend the whole summer with me, and as if that were not joy enough for three people, let alone one, I made all kinds of plans, about studying, and teaching you housekeeping, and embroidery, and all kinds of things. We were going to read so many hours a day, and work so many hours,--my poor Peggy! you would have had an unmerciful kind of time!--and everything was going to be quiet and regular and cheerful; I never got beyond cheerfulness in my brightest dreams of the summer. But even the cheerfulness was far ahead, and just then--before you came--I really had difficulty sometimes in keeping a cheerful face for Uncle John when he came in. Why--must I tell the whole?"