and readjusted her cap, which wasdrooping coquettishly over one ear.
"Lor'!" she said. "What a fright it give me; it most a turned me insideout."
Diogenes, thoroughly subdued, wagged a tentative tail at her. He ratherliked Martha. But when Eliza, still weeping, sat down on the table and,with an unconscious display of thin legs, descended on the far side, heshowed a tendency to become restive, and strained at the unaccustomedleash. Peggy cuffed him vigorously, whereupon he subsided and affectedto sulk again.
"However could that animal 'ave got in?" exclaimed Martha, at whichsimple question Peggy felt guilty. She felt more guilty still whenMartha added acrimoniously to the weeping Eliza, "That's your fault,Lizer. You must 'ave left the gate open."
"No," said Peggy bravely, conscious of her glowing cheeks, and wishingfrom the depths of her being that she had faced the bulls rather thantrespass on Mr Musgrave's property; "I opened the gate. I wanted towalk through the garden because of the bulls. And then Diogenes saw thecat and escaped from me."
Martha looked amazed, only imperfectly understanding this none too lucidexplanation; and Eliza, who had been too upset to know whether she hadleft the gate open or not, discovering that she was not responsible forthe mischance, stared resentfully at the intruder.
"This is private property," she announced in the haughty manner of aperson who feels herself by virtue of her residence thereon joint ownerof the premises. "You can't walk through private grounds."
What Peggy would have replied, or if she would have replied at all,remained indeterminate. At that moment Martha straightened her cap anewand Eliza started to sniff more loudly and Diogenes ventured on a barkas the kitchen door opened and John Musgrave, with gravely astonishedface, stood framed in the aperture, gazing upon the scene.
To Peggy's consternation the displeased glance of the master of thehouse fell immediately upon the broken china which strewed the floor--hecould not possibly overlook it, since it lay almost at his feet--andthen lifted and rested accusingly, it seemed to her, upon her blushingface. Her presence in his kitchen was an event which called for someexplanation. Peggy proceeded to explain, and to express her regret forthe accident. She hoped, despite a desire to punish her, which from hisexpression she was positive he was experiencing, he would eject her bythe front gate instead of the back. It would be horrible if after allthese nerve-shattering happenings she would still be obliged to face thebulls.
"Diogenes only chased the cat for fun," she finished, loyally excusingthe delinquent, who by no means deserved to have his conduct defended."He would not have hurt it really. He's rather partial to cats."
"Indeed!" said Mr Musgrave, and stared up at the cat, who glared backat him defiantly from her position of security. The cat was suffered,not as a pet, but because cats in a house were of use in keeping downthe mice. "I think," added Mr Musgrave, "that the cat would feelhappier if Diogenes were removed."
"Please," pleaded Peggy humbly, "let us go by the front gate. I amreally afraid to cross the fields again. Diogenes chases the bulls."
"'Orrid brute!" muttered Eliza with a sniff so loud that it drew MrMusgrave's eyes in her direction.
"You had better," he observed drily, "clear away this--rubbish."
He indicated the broken crockery. Then he stood away from the door andlooked at Peggy.
"If you will come with me, Miss Annersley, I will take you through thegarden. Kindly keep the dog on the lead."
Peggy preceded him from the kitchen in a chastened mood, feeling verylike a small girl about to be reprimanded. She resented Mr Musgrave'sair of elderly superiority. He might have assured her, before theservants at least, that it did not matter, and told her not to distressherself. She had a conviction that he felt it was only proper sheshould distress herself, for which reason she determined not to beoverwhelmingly contrite. It was his cat that had effected the damage;Diogenes had not scrambled over the furniture.
Mr Musgrave led her through a passage and into the hall, which was wideand spacious, and had a comfortable fire glowing on the low hearth. Itwas a very nice hall. Peggy looked about her with interested curiosity.It was a nice house altogether; and Mr Musgrave, as he paused andlooked down at her a little uncertainly, did not appear so forbidding ashe had looked in the kitchen. After all, considering the amount ofdamage she and Diogenes were responsible for between them, he had shownadmirable control. Peggy was relenting. She experienced the desire tomore adequately express her regret.
"Would you like to--rest a little while?" Mr Musgrave asked.
The question was so unexpected that Peggy wanted to laugh. She realisedthat courtesy alone dragged the reluctant suggestion from her unwillinghost, and was aware that acceptance of the invitation by increasing hisembarrassment would aggravate her former offence. Mischief promptedassent; but the new feeling of kindliness towards him overruled theteasing instinct, and to Mr Musgrave's relief she declined.
"I think," she said, "you have seen enough of us for one day. When Icome again I will leave Diogenes behind."
She put out a hand and laid it with girlish impulsiveness on his sleeve.
"I'm so sorry," she said.
Mr Musgrave looked down at the small hand as he might have looked atsomething that had alighted on his sleeve by accident, which could notbe brushed off, but must be allowed to remove itself at its ownconvenience. It was a strong little hand, roughened with labour, andungloved, because its owner had removed her glove the better to chastiseDiogenes; but it was quite a nicely-shaped woman's hand, and would havebeen fine and white had it been allowed to become so. Then he lookedstraight into the upturned face.
"Please don't think any more about it," he said, and meeting the greyeyes fully, smiled.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN.
When Peggy Annersley parted from John Musgrave at his gate and set offdown the road accompanied by the joyous Diogenes, now freed from thelead, Mr Musgrave turned about and slowly retraced his steps along thegravelled path he had traversed at Peggy's side. His mind, despite theearly prejudice which the sight of the young lady immodestly attired hadexcited, and the later annoyance of her unfortunate trespass, whichanyone might well have resented, harboured no unkindly thought. He waseven conscious of a faint amusement as he recalled the astonishingpicture of her unexpected presence in his kitchen, and his own amazementat finding her there. She stimulated alike his interest and hiscuriosity. It is impossible to experience interest in another humanbeing and remain altogether indifferent in feeling, particularly whenthat interest is centred in a member of the opposite sex. John Musgravewas not given to self-analysis, nor did he disturb his mind withproblems of this nature. Had it occurred to him that a mild interest ina prepossessing young woman held possibilities of unexpected developmenthe would promptly have banished the captivating Peggy from the place sheengaged in his thoughts. At that stage in their acquaintance this wouldhave been quite simple of accomplishment. John Musgrave would havethought so, at least. But the mind is an odd store-room, and manythings dwell in it which the owner is powerless to eject--small,persistent, elusive thoughts which hide behind the lumber ofinconsequent things.
As Mr Musgrave slowly paced the gravel walk, lost in a not unpleasingreverie, he became suddenly aware of an insignificant object lying inhis path, and, stooping to examine this object at closer range,discovered that it was a woman's glove. Since only one woman had usedthat path recently, since, too, the glove had assuredly not been therewhen he had accompanied Peggy to the gate, the inference pointedconclusively to the glove being Peggy's property.
John Musgrave picked it up, and held it between his fingers. Then heplaced it across the palm of one hand and examined it with curiosity,after the manner of a collector who has discovered some new object ofinterest. It was a small glove, absurdly small it seemed to JohnMusgrave as it lay across his large palm, and it was obviously new. HadMr Musgrave been more experienced in the matter of women's dress hewould have realised from the fact of its newness that t
he owner wouldmake some effort to recover her property, an odd glove being useless,and no woman caring to sacrifice a new pair. But Mr Musgrave did notconsider this point. He was for the time absorbed in contemplation ofthe absurd thing.
Having examined it on the one side, he reversed it on his palm andexamined it on the other. Then he took it up, and idly, in abstractedmood, thrust his fingers into it and began pulling it over his hand.The futility of attempting to fit a larger object into a smaller wasimmediately demonstrated; the kid split obligingly at the seams toaccommodate the hand that was never intended to fill it, and JohnMusgrave, gazing at the mischief he had wrought, beheld his largeknuckles bursting through the tear. The new glove was no longer a thingof any value.
At the moment