came out to meet her, and gripped her hand in welcome.

"You have come! I knew you would. I am so thankful to see you. The
doctor has come, and will stay all night. He has sent for a nurse--"

"And--my Peggy?"

Lady Darcy's lips quivered.

"Very, very ill--much worse than Rosalind! Her poor little arms! I was
so wicked, I thought it was her fault, and I had no pity, and now it
seems that she has saved my darling's life. They can't tell us about it
yet, but it was she who wrapped the curtain round Rosalind, and burned
herself in pressing out the flames. Rosalind kept crying, `Peggy!
Peggy!' and we thought she meant that it was Peggy's fault. We had
heard so much of her mischievous tricks. My husband found her lying on
the floor. She was unconscious; but she came round when they were
dressing her arms. I think she will know you--"

"Take me to her, please!" Mrs Asplin said quickly. She had to wait
several moments before she could control her voice sufficiently to add,
"And Rosalind, how is she?"

"There is no danger. Her neck is scarred, and her hair singed and
burned. She is suffering from the shock, but the doctor says it is not
serious. Peggy--"

She paused, and the other walked on resolutely, not daring to ask for
the termination of that sentence. She crept into the little room, bent
over the bed, and looked down on Peggy's face through a mist of tears.
It was drawn and haggard with pain, and the eyes met hers without a ray
of light in their hollow depths. That she recognised was evident, but
the pain which she was suffering was too intense to leave room for any
other feeling. She lay motionless, with her bandaged arms stretched
before her, and her face looked so small and white against the pillow
that Mrs Asplin trembled to think how little strength was there to
fight against the terrible shock and strain. Only once in all that long
night did Peggy show any consciousness of her surroundings, but then her
eyes lit up with a gleam of remembrance, her lips moved, and Mrs Asplin
bent down to catch the faintly whispered words--

"The twenty-sixth--next Monday! Don't tell Arthur!"

"`The twenty-sixth!' What is that, darling? Ah, I remember--Arthur's
examination! You mean if he knew you were ill, it would upset him for
his work?"

An infinitesimal movement of the head answered "Yes," and she gave the
promise in trembling tones--

"No, my precious, we won't tell him. He could not help,