bottle, tilted some of the contents into a tumbler in which there was a
small portion of water, without troubling to measure it out, and gulped
it down without delay. Her description of the feelings which ensued was
a really clever piece of word-painting, but behind the pretence of
horror at her own carelessness there rang a hardly concealed note of
pride, as though, in thus risking her life, she had done something quite
clever and distinguished.

Mrs Asplin exhausted herself in "Ohs!" and "Ahs!" of sympathy, and had
nothing harsher to say than--

"Well now, dearie, you'll be more careful another time, won't you?" But
the vicar's long face grew longer than ever as he listened, and the
lines deepened in his forehead. Peggy was inexperienced in
danger-signals, but Esther and Mellicent recognised the well-known
signs, and were at no loss to understand the meaning of that quiet, "A
word with you in the study, Mariquita, if you please!" with which he
rose from the breakfast-table next morning.

Peggy's throat was still sore, and she fondly imagined that anxiety on
its behalf was the cause of the summons, but she was speedily
undeceived, for the vicar motioned towards a chair, and said, in short
grave sentences, as his manner was when annoyed--

"I wish to speak to you about the event of last night; I am afraid that
you hardly realise the matter in its true light. I was not at all
pleased with the manner in which you gave your explanation. You
appeared to imagine that you had done something clever and amusing. I
take a very different view. You showed a reprehensible carelessness in
trifling with medicines in the dark; it might have caused you your life,
or, at best, a serious injury. As it was, you brought pain upon
yourself, and gave us all a serious alarm. I see nothing amusing in
such behaviour, but consider it stupid, and careless to an almost
criminal extent."

Peggy stood motionless, eyes cast down, hands clasped before her--a
picture of injured innocence. She did not say a word in self-defence,
but her feelings were so plainly written on her face that the vicar's
eyes flashed with impatience.

"Well, what have you to say?"

Peggy sighed in dolorous fashion.

"I am sorry; I know it was careless. I am always doing things like
that. So is Arthur. So was father when he was a boy. It's in the
family. It's unfortunate, but--"

"Mariquita," said the vicar sternly, "you are _not_ sorry! If I had
s