day when I'm old and grown-up I will see in a
newspaper the name of a distinguished naturalist and discoverer, and
say, `I used to know him once. He was not at all proud. He used to
pull my hair like any ordinary mortal.'

"Some day I shall enter a ballroom, and see a little lady sitting by the
door waving her hands in the air, and using words a mile long, and shall
say to myself, `Do my eyes deceive me? Is it indeed the Peggy Pickle of
the Past?' and my host will say, `My good sir, that is the world-famous
authoress, Mariquita de Ponsonby Plantagenet Saville!' Stevenson, I
assure you, is not in it for flow of language, and she is so proud of
herself that she won't speak to anyone under a belted earl."

"That sounds nice!" said Peggy approvingly. "I should like that; but it
wouldn't be a ball, you silly boy--it would be a conversazione, where
all the clever and celebrated people of London were gathered together,
`To have the honour of meeting Miss Saville.' There would be quite a
number of people whom we knew among the Lions. A very grand Lady
Somebody or other, the beauty of the season--Rosalind, of
course--all sparkling with diamonds, and leaning on the arm of a
distinguished-looking gentleman with orders on his breast. That's
Arthur. I'm determined that he shall have orders. It's the only thing
that could reconcile me to the loss of the Victoria Cross, and a
dress-coat is so uninteresting without trimmings! A fat lady would be
sitting in a corner prattling about half a dozen subjects all in one
moment--that's Mellicent; and a tall, lean lady in spectacles would be
imparting useful information to a dandy with an eyeglass stuck in one
eye--that's Esther and Oswald! Oh dear, I wonder--I wonder--I wonder!
It's like a story-book, Rob, and we are at the end of the first volume.
How much shall we have to do with each other in the second and third;
and what is going to happen next, and how, and when?"

"We--we have to part, that's the next thing," said Rob sadly. "Here
comes the carriage, and Arthur is shouting for us to stop. It's
good-bye, for the present, Mariquita; there's no help for it!"

"At the crossroads!" said Peggy slowly, her eye wandering to the
sign-board which marked the paths branching north, south, east, and
west. She stopped short and stood gazing into his face, her eyes big
and solemn, the wind blowing her hair into loose little curls beneath
her scarlet cap, her dramatic mind seizing ea