and, which was already covered with blood;
glancing up, she saw that Rita was pale as death, and trembling
violently.

"What is it?" cried Margaret. "Are you hurt,--ill? hold her, then, and I
will run."

"No,--no!" said Rita, shuddering. "It is--the blood! I cannot bear the
sight. I will go--I will send Elizabeth. Is she dead, Margaret? It is
too terrible!"

"Dead? no!" said Margaret vehemently.

"She is only stunned a little, and has cut her head. If I had some
water, I could manage perfectly. Do go, Rita!"

Rita seemed hardly able to move. She was ghastly white; her eyes sought,
yet avoided, the red stream which Margaret was checking with steady
hand. She did, however, move toward the house; and at the same moment
Margaret had the satisfaction of feeling Peggy move slightly. The blue
eyes opened part way; the mouth twitched,--was Peggy giggling, even
before she regained consciousness? Margaret bent over her anxiously,
afraid of some shock to the brain. But now the eyes opened again, and it
was Peggy's own self that was looking at her, and--yes! undoubtedly
laughing.

"Don't be scared, Margaret," she said, speaking faintly, but with
perfect command of her senses. "It isn't the first 'cropper' I have
come; I shouldn't have minded at all, only for my head. But--I say,
Margaret, didn't I hear Rita going on about blood, and asking if I was
dead?"

"Yes, dear; she is evidently one of those people who faint at the sight
of blood. And you do look rather dreadful, dear, though I don't mind you
a bit. And you must not talk now; you truly must not!"

"Rubbish! I'm going to get up in a minute, as soon as the water comes.
But--I say, Margaret, how about the Cuban war? Do you suppose--the rest
of them--feel the same way about blood? because--"

"Peggy, I am surprised at you!" said Margaret. "Hush this moment, or I
will let your head drop!"

CHAPTER XIII.

IN THE NIGHT.

"Quand on conspire, sans frayeur
Il faut se faire conspirateur;
Pour tout le monde il faut avoir
Perruque blonde, et collet noir!"

Peggy's injury proved to be slight, as she herself had declared, but the
jar had been considerable, and her head ached so that she was glad to be
put to bed and nursed by Margaret. Rita hovered about, still very pale,
and apparently much more disturbed by the accident than the actual
sufferer. She put many questions: Would Peggy be well to-morrow?
Probably still weak? Would it be necessary