ation, "I know of a most excellent school
in New York, indeed, it is conducted by a very dear friend of mine,
where you would meet only girls of the wealthiest families" (Mrs.
Stewart did not add that the majority had little beside their wealth to
stand as a bulwark for them; they were the daughters of New York City's
newly rich whose ancestry would hardly court inspection) "and even
during your school days you would get a taste of New York's social
advantages; a thing utterly impossible in this dull--ahem!--this remote
place. I shall strongly advise dear Neal to consider this. You simply
cannot remain buried here. _I shall_, of course, since I feel it my duty
to do so, but I can have someone pass the winter with me, and can make
frequent trips to Washington."
Mrs. Stewart paused for breath. Peggy did not speak one word, but with a
final dazed look at her aunt, turned and entered the house.
CHAPTER IV
HOSTILITIES RESUMED
As Peggy left the piazza her aunt's eyes followed her with an expression
which held little promise for the girl's future happiness should it be
given into Mrs. Stewart's keeping. A more calculating, triumphant one,
or one more devoid of any vestige of affection for Peggy it would have
been hard to picture. As her niece disappeared Mrs. Stewart's lips
formed just two words, "little fool," but never had she so utterly
miscalculated. She was sadly lacking in a discrimination of values.
Peggy had chosen one of two evils; that of losing her temper and saying
something which would have outraged her conception of the obligations of
a hostess, or of getting away by herself without a moment's delay. She
felt as though she were strangling, or that some horrible calamity
threatened her. Hurrying to her own room she flung herself upon her
couch and did that which Peggy Stewart was rarely known to do: buried
her head in the cushions and sobbed. Not the sobs of a thwarted, peevish
girl, but the deeper grief of one who feels hopeless, lonely and
wretched. Never in her life had she felt like this. What was the meaning
of it?
Those who were older and more experienced, would have answered at once:
Here is a girl, not yet sixteen years of age, who has led a lonely life
upon a great estate, remote from companions of her own age, though
adored by the servants who have been upon it as long as she can
remember. She has been regarded as their mistress whose word must be law
because her mother's was. Her educ
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