"We had fine romps together, you
and I. You danced me off my feet one night, and gave me my death of
cold putting up a snow man the next day. I have never forgotten Peggy
Saville, but you have changed so much that I did not recognise you, and
I did not see your name."

"I noticed yours in the list of passengers, and then I looked out for
you, and recognised you at once. There was a Darcy look about the back
of your head which could not be mistaken! I meant to ask father to
introduce you to me after lunch, but the book has taken his place. So
you think I have changed! I have `growed,' of course, and the pigtail
has disappeared; but in other respects there is not so much alteration
as could be desired. My father tells me, on an average three times a
day, that I shall remain the same `Peggy-Pickle' all my life."

"That sounds bad! So far as my remembrance goes, you used to be a
mischievous little person, always getting into scrapes and frightening
the wits out of your companions."

"Ah!" sighed Miss Saville dolorously. "Ah-h!" She shook her head with
a broken-hearted air, and looked so overwhelmed with compunction for her
misdeeds, that if it had not been for a treacherous dimple that defied
her control, the major would have felt remorseful at awakening a painful
memory. As it was he laughed heartily, and cried aloud:

"When you look like that, I can see you again with the pigtail and the
white frock, just as you looked that Christmas half-a-dozen years ago!
Your father is right--you have not changed a bit from the little Peggy I
used to know!"

"I'm a full-fledged young lady now, Major Darcy, and have been `out' for
three whole years. I've grown into `Miss Saville,' or at the very least
into `Mariquita.'"

"But not to me. I'm part of the old times; Rosalind's brother--Rob's
brother--you cannot treat me like a stranger. Peggy you have been, and
Peggy you must be, so far as I am concerned, for I could not recognise
you by another name. Sit down and tell me all about yourself. How long
have you been in India, and where are you bound for now?"

"I came out three years ago, when I was eighteen, and now we are going
home for good. I'm so glad, for though I've enjoyed India immensely,
there is no place like the old country. Mother is not strong, so we are
going to stay on the Continent until it is warm enough to return safely.
We shall land at Marseilles, stay a month in the Riviera, and gradually
work