“I’ve been thinking _deeply_ on the situation here on the farm,” pursued Miss Cottle. “I do not feel that I am doing _right_ to remain here longer, _under the circumstances_.”
Peg fumbled the rampant locks behind his left ear, in a fashion he had when perplexed.
“Under the circumstances,” he repeated dubiously. “The circumstances is all right; ain’t they?”
“I appear to have dropped into the position of hired girl to Barbara Preston,” pursued the spinster acidly. “She did her own work previous to my coming; now I do most of it. But that isn’t all; I was engaged as housekeeper and caretaker for that boy. She was to go away and _stay_ for five years.”
“Mebbe she’ll go soon now,” hazarded Peg. He shook his head slowly. “Kind o’ funny ’bout that business,” he murmured. “I dunno who in creation bid her in.”
“I shouldn’t mind that so much,” pursued Miss Cottle, “but——”
She paused dramatically to allow the full force of her remark to fall on the unsuspecting man.
“There’s been considerable talk in the village lately—_about you and me_. It’s come to me straight.”
“No!” exclaimed Peg, hastily gaining his legs and feeling for his pipe in his rear breeches pocket with agitated haste.
“Can you deny,” intoned Miss Cottle strongly, “that the subject of your attentions to me was brought up and discussed in Hewett’s grocery store less than a week ago?”
“I said it wa’n’t so, ma’am; I told ’em the’ wa’n’t nothin’ in it.”
“_You_ told them, Peleg Morrison? _You_ denied that you intended to marry me? How could you?”
“You should, at least, have afforded _me_ the opportunity of denying the report—if it was to be denied.”
Miss Cottle buried her face in her hands.
“I supposed,” she went on, in a smothered voice, “that you had more regard for the sacred feelings of a good woman. I thought, Peleg, you—cared—a little—for me.”
“Oh, my! Gosh—goll—durn—what—in—thunder——”
Miss Cottle’s strong, determined hand shot out and fastened tentacle-like upon the unfortunate Peleg’s sleeve.
“I shall leave this very day—_never_ to return,” she said, in a hollow voice, “unless you and I come to an understanding. I cannot endure it longer.”
“I _love_ that _dear_ little boy as if he was my _own_,” pursued Miss Cottle sentimentally, “and I _feel_ that my _duty_ calls me to remain and care for him; but——”