a whisper, yet he had
never in his life heard anything so thrilling as its intense and
yearning tenderness. "Oh, my Peggy!" it said. "My little Peggy!" And
then, as in reply, came a low moaning sound, a feeble bleat like that of
a little lamb torn from its mother's side. Robert charged back into the
cloak-room, and kicked savagely at the boots and shoes which were
scattered about the floor, his lips pressed together, and his brows
meeting in a straight black line across his forehead. Another minute,
and the carriage rolled away. He peeped out of the door in time to see
a little figure fly out into the rain, and walking slowly towards the
schoolroom came face to face with Mrs Asplin.

"Gone?" she inquired sadly. "Well, I'm thankful it is over. Poor
little dear, where is she? Flown up to her room, I suppose. We'll
leave her alone until tea-time. It will be the truest kindness."

"Yes," said Robert vaguely. He was afraid that the good lady would not
be so willing to leave Peggy undisturbed if she knew her real
whereabouts, and was determined to say nothing to undeceive her. He
felt sure that the girl had hidden herself in the summer-house at the
bottom of the garden, and a nice, damp, mouldy retreat it would be this
afternoon, with the rain driving in through the open window, and the
creepers dripping on the walls. Just the place in which to sit and
break your heart, and catch rheumatic fever with the greatest possible
ease. And yet Robert said no word of warning to Mrs Asplin. He had an
inward conviction that if anyone were to go to the rescue, that person
should be himself, and that he, more than anyone else, would be able to
comfort Peggy in her affliction. He sauntered up and down the hall
until the coast was clear, then dashed once more into the cloak-room,
took an Inverness coat from a nail, a pair of goloshes from the floor,
and sped rapidly down the garden-path. In less than two minutes he had
reached the summer-house, and was peeping cautiously in at the door.
Yes; he was right. There sat Peggy, with her arms stretched out before
her on the rickety table, her shoulders heaving with long, gasping sobs.
Her fingers clenched and unclenched themselves spasmodically, and the
smooth little head rolled to and fro in an abandonment of grief. Robert
stood looking on in silent misery. He had a boy's natural hatred of
tears, and his first impulse was to turn tail, go back to the house, and
send someone