"Now, Daddy," cried Peggy happily when luncheon ended, "come out to the stables and paddock; I've a hundred things to show you."

"A stable and a paddock for an old salt like me," laughed her father. "I wonder if I shall know a horse's hock from his withers? Yet it DOES seem good to see them, and smell the gra.s.s and woods and know it's all mine and that YOU are mine," he cried, slipping his arm through hers and pacing off with her. "Some day," he added, "I am coming here to settle down with you to enjoy it all, and when I do I mean to let four legs carry me whenever there is the least excuse for so doing. My own have done enough pacing of the quarter-deck to have earned that indulgence."

"And won't it be just--paradise," cried Peggy rapturously.

They were now nearing the paddock. To one side was a long row of little cottages occupied by the stable hands' families. Mr. Stewart paused and smiled, for out of each popped a funny little black woolly head to catch a glimpse of "Ma.s.sa Captain," as all the darkies on the place called him.

"Good Lord, where DO they all come from, Peggy? Have they all been born since my last visit? There were not so many here then."

"Not quite all," answered Peggy laughing. "Most of them were here before that, though there are some new arrivals either in the course of nature or new help. You see the business is growing, Daddy, and I've had to take on new hands."

Neil Stewart started. "Was this little person who talked in such a matter-of-fact way about "taking on new hands" his little Peggy?

"Yes, yes--I dare say," he answered in a sort of daze.

Peggy seemed unaware of anything the least unusual and continued:

"I want you to see THIS family. It is Joshua Jozadak Jubal Jones'. They might all be of an age, but they are not--quite. Come here, boys, and see Master Captain," called Peggy to the three piccaninnies who were peeping around the corner of the cottage. Three black, grinning little faces, topped by the kinkiest of woolly heads, came slowly at her bidding, each one glancing half-proudly, yet more or less panic- stricken, at the big man in white flannels.

"h.e.l.lo, boys. Whose sons are you? Miss Peggy tells me you are brothers."

"Yas, sir. We is. We's Joshua Jozadak Jubal Jones's boys. I'se Gus--de ol'es. Der's nine haid o' us, but we's de oniest boys. De yethers ain'

nothin' but gurls."

"And how old are you!"

"I'se nine I reckons."

"And what is your name?"

"My name Gus, sah."

"That's only HALF a name. Your whole name is really Augustus remember."

The "Ma.s.sa Captain's" voice boomed with the sound of the sea. Augustus and his brothers were duly impressed. If Gus really meant Augustus, why Augustus he would be henceforth. The Ma.s.sa Captain had said it and what the Ma.s.sa Captain said--went, especially when he gave a bright new dime to enforce the order.

"And YOUR name?" continued the questioner, pointing at number two.

"I'se jist Jule, sah," was the shy reply.

"That's a nickname too. I can't have such slipshod, no-account names for my hands' children. It isn't dignified. It isn't respectful. It's a disgrace to Miss Peggy. Do you hear?"

"Yas--yas--sir. We--we hears," answered the little darkies in chorus, the whites of their eyes rolling and their knees fairly smiting together. How could they have been guilty of thus slighting their adored young mistress?

"Please, sah, wha's his name ef taint Jule?" Augustus plucked up heart of grace to ask.

"He is Julius, JUL-I-US, do you understand?"

"Yas--sir. Yas--sir." Another dime helped the memory box.

"And YOUR name?" asked the Ma.s.sa Captain of quaking number three.

There was a long, significant pause, then contortions as though number three were suffering from a violent attack of colic. At length, after two or three futile attempts he blurted out:

"I'se--I'se Billyus, sah!"

There was a terrific explosion, then Neil Stewart tossed the redoubtable Billyus a quarter, crying: "You win," and walked away with Peggy, his laughter now and again borne back to his beneficiaries.

Peggy never knew where that month slipped to with its long rides on Shashai, Daddy Neil riding the Emperor, the magnificent sire of all the small fry upon the place, from those who had already gone, or were about to be sent out into the great world beyond the limits of Severndale, to Roy, the latest arrival. Neil Stewart wondered and marveled more and more as each day slipped by.

Then, too, were the delightful paddles far up the Severn in Peggy's canoe, exploring unsuspected little creeks, with now and again a bag in the wild, lonely reaches of the river, followed by a delicious little supper of broiled birds, done to a turn by Aunt Cynthia. There were, too, moonlight sails in Peggy's little half-rater, which she handled with a master hand. As a rule, one of the boys accompanied her, for the mainsail and centerboard were pretty heavy for her to handle unaided, but with Daddy Neil on board--well, not much was left to be desired.

During that month Peggy learned "how lightly falls the foot of time which only treads on flowers," and was appalled when she realized that only five more days remained of her father's leave.

Neil Stewart, upon his part, was sorely perplexed, for it had come to him with an overwhelming force that Peggy was almost a young lady, and to live much longer as she had been living was simply out of the question. Yet how solve the problem? He and Dr. Llewellyn talked long and earnestly upon the subject when Peggy was not near, and fully concurred in their view-point; a change must be made, and made right speedily. Should Peggy be sent to school? If so, where? Much depended upon the choice in her case. Her whole life had been so entirely unlike the average girl's. Why she scarcely knew the meaning of companions of her own age of either s.e.x. Neil Stewart actually groaned aloud as he thought of this.

Dr. Llewellyn suggested a companion for the young girl.

Mr. Stewart groaned again. Whom should he choose? So far as he knew there was not a relative, near or remote, to whom he could turn, and a hit-or-miss choice among strangers appalled him.

"I give you my word, Llewellyn, I'm aground--hard and fast. I can't navigate that little cruiser out yonder," and he nodded toward the lawn where Peggy was giving his first lessons to Roy in submitting to a halter. It was a pretty picture, too, and one deeply imprinted upon Neil Stewart's memory.

"We will do our best for her and leave the rest to the dear Lord,"

answered the good Doctor, his cameo-like face turned toward the lawn to watch the girl whom he loved as a daughter. "He will show us the way. He has never yet failed to."

"Well, in all reverence, I wish He'd show it before I leave, for I tell you I don't like the idea of going away and leaving that little girl utterly unprotected."

"I should call her very well protected," said Dr. Llewellyn mildly.

"Oh, yes, in a way. You are here off and on, and the servants all the time, but look at the life she leads, man. Not a girl friend. Nothing that other girls have. I tell you it's bad navigating and she'll run afoul rocks or shoals. It isn't natural. For the Lord's sake DO something. If I could be here a month longer I'd start something or burst everything wide open. It's simply got to be changed." And Neil Stewart got up from his big East India chair to pace impatiently up and down the broad piazza, now and again giving an absent-minded kick to a ha.s.sock, or picking up a sofa pillow to heave it upon a settee, as though clearing the deck for action. He was deeply perturbed.

Peggy glanced toward him, and quick to notice signs of mental disturbance, left her charge to Tzaritza's care and came running toward the piazza. As she ran up the four steps giving upon the lawn she asked half laughingly, half seriously:

"Heavy weather, Daddy Neil? Barometer falling?"

Neil Stewart paused, looked at her a moment and asked abruptly:

"Peggy, how would you like to go to a boarding school?"

"To boarding school!" exclaimed Peggy in amazement. "Leave Severndale and all this and go away to a SCHOOL?" The emphasis upon the last word held whole volumes.

Her father nodded.

"I think I'd die," she said, dropping upon a settee as though the very suggestion had deprived her of strength.

Her father's forehead puckered into a perplexed frown. If Peggy were sent to boarding school the choice of one would be a nice question.

"Well, what SHALL I do with you?" demanded the poor man in desperation.

"Leave me right where I am. Compadre will see that I'm not quite an ignoramus, Harrison keeps me decently clad and properly lectured, and Mammy looks to my feeding when I'm well and dosing when I'm not, which, thank goodness, isn't often. Why Daddy, I'm so happy. So perfectly happy. Please, please don't spoil it," and Peggy rose to slip her arm within her father's and "pace the deck" as he called it.