Excerpt
THE ARRIVAL
"Oh, Peggy, I am afraid!"
"Why, Margaret!"
"Yes, I am. I feel very shy and queer, going among strangers. You see, I have never really been away in my life; never in this way, I mean. I was always with father; and then—afterward—I went to Fernley; and though so many people have come into my life, dear, delightful people, I have never somehow gone into theirs. And now, to go into a whole great big family, only two of whom—I mean which—oh, dear me! I don't know what I mean, but I have only seen two of them, you know, and it is formidable, you will admit, Peggy."
"Well, I feel just a scrap queer myself," said Peggy; "but I never thought you would. And anyhow, we needn't; we both know the boys so well, and though you have not actually seen the Snowy, you really know her very well. Darling thing! Oh, I cannot wait till we get there! Do you think we ever shall get there, Margaret? This is the longest journey I ever made in my life."
"How about the journey from Ohio?"
"Oh, that is different. I know all the places along the road, and they slip by before one can think. Besides, a long journey always seems shorter, because you know it is long. Well, you needn't laugh, you know perfectly well what I mean. Oh, Margaret, I saw a glimpse of blue behind the trees. Do you suppose that is the lake? do you think we are nearly there? Oh! I am so excited! Is my hat on straight?"
Margaret Montfort, by way of reply, straightened her cousin's hat, and then proceeded to administer sundry coaxing pats to her hair and her ribbons.
"You are a trifle flyaway, dear!" she said. "There! now, when you have taken the black smut off your nose, you will be as trim as possible. Am I all right?"
"You!" said Peggy, with a despairing look, as she rubbed away at her nose; "as if you ever had a pin or an eyelash out of place! Margaret, how do you do it? Why does dust avoid you, and cling to me as if I were its last refuge? How do you make your collar stay like that? I don't see why I was born a Misfit Puzzle. Oh—ee! there is the lake! just look, how blue it is! Oh! Margaret, I must scream!"
"You must not scream!" said Margaret with quiet decision, pulling Peggy down into the seat beside her. "You must be good, and sit still. See! that old gentleman is watching us, Peggy. He will be scandalized if you carry on so."
"He doesn't look a bit scandalized; he looks awfully jolly."
"Peggy!"
"Well, he does, Margaret. Do you suppose Mr. Merryweather is anything like that? Margaret!"
"What is it, Peggy? please don't speak so loud!"
"Perhaps it is Mr. Merryweather. I think—I am almost perfectly sure it must be. Why, he is positively staring at us. It must be Mr. Merryweather!"
"Is Mr. Merryweather specially addicted to staring? I should not suppose so. This gentleman is not in the least my idea of Mr. Merryweather; and if he does stare,—there! he is looking away now,—it is because he sees a great big girl dancing and jumping in her seat as if she were Polly Peppercorn."
"Next station Merryweather!" chanted the brakeman....