"Don't go for a minnit. Won't ye make friends with me?"

"We've nothing in common," replied Ethel.

"Sure, that doesn't prevent us bein' dacent to each other, does it?"

"DECENT?" cried Ethel in disgust.

"I'll meet ye three quarthers o' the way if ye'll show just one little generous feelin' toward me." She paused as she looked pleadingly at Ethel: "Ye would if ye knew what was in me mind."

Ethel came down to the last step of the stairs and stood there looking down searchingly at Peg. Finally she said:

"You're a strange creature."

"Not at all. It's you people here who are strange--I'm just what I am.

I don't pretend or want to be anythin' else. But you--all of you--seem to be trying to be somethin' different to what ye are."

"What do you mean?" asked Ethel suspiciously.

"Oh, I watch ye and listen to ye," went on Peg eagerly. "Ye turn yer face to the wurrld as much as to say, 'Look at me! aren't I the beautiful, quiet, well-bred, aisy-goin', sweet-tempered young lady?'

An' yer nothin' o' the kind, are ye?"

Ethel went slowly over to Peg and looked into her eyes:

"What am I?"

"Sure ye've got the breedin' all right, an' the nice-looks, an' the beautiful manners--but down in yer heart an' up in yer brain ye're worryin' yer little soul all the time, aren't ye?" And Peg paused.

Ethel looked down. Peg after a moment continued: "An' ye've got a temper just as bad as mine. It's a beautiful temper ye have, Ethel.

It's a shame not to let a temper like that out in the daylight now and again. But ye kape it out o' sight because it isn't good form to show it. An' with all yer fine advantages ye're not a bit happy, are ye? Are ye, Ethel?"

Ethel, moved in spite of herself, admitted involuntarily: "No. I'm not!"

Peg went on quietly: "Nor am I--in this house. Couldn't we try and comfort each other?" There was a look of genuine sympathy with Ethel in Peg's big blue eyes and a note of tender entreaty in her tone.

"Comfort? YOU--comfort ME?" cried Ethel, in disdain.

"Yes, Ethel dear, ME comfort YOU, They say 'a beautiful thought makes a beautiful face'; an' by the same token, sure a kind action gives ye a warm feelin' around the heart. An' ye might have that if ye'd only be a little kind to me--sometime."

Peg's honest sincerity and depth of feeling had suddenly a marked effect on the, apparently, callous Ethel. She turned to Peg and there was a different expression entirely in her look and tone as she said:

"I'm afraid I have been a little inconsiderate."

"Ye have, sure," said Peg.

"What would you like me to do?"

"I'd like ye to spake to me sometimes as though I were a human bein'

an' not a clod o' earth."

"Very well, Margaret, I will. Good night." And feeling the matter was closed, Ethel again turned away to leave the room.

"Will ye give me another minnit--NOW--PLEASE," called Peg, after her, excitedly.

Ethel looked at the letter in her hand, hesitated, then re-entered the room and went down to Peg and said gently:

"All right"

"Only just a minnit," repeated Peg, breathlessly.

"What do you want, Margaret?"

"I want ye to tell me somethin'."

"What is it?"

Peg paused--looked at Ethel bashfully--dropped her eyes to the ground--took a deep breath--then said as fast as she could speak:

"Do ye know anything about--about LOVE?"

"Love?" echoed Ethel, very much astonished.

"Yes," said Peg. "Have ye ever been in love?" and she wanted expectantly for Ethel's answer.

Ethel put the letter she had just written to Mr. Brent slowly behind her back and answered coldly:

"No. I have not."

"Have ye ever THOUGHT about it?"

"Yes."

"WHAT do ye think about it?" questioned Peg eagerly.

"Rot!" replied Ethel, decidedly.

"ROT? ROT?" cried Peg, unable to believe her ears.

"Sentimental nonsense that only exists in novels."

"Ye're wrong!" insisted the anxious Peg; "ye're wrong. It's the most wondherful thing in the wurrld!"

Ethel brought the letter up to her eyes and read the superscription.

"Think so?" she asked calmly.

"I do," cried Peg hotly. "I do. It's the most wondherful thing in the whole wurrld. To love a good man, who loves you. A man that made ye hot and cold by turns: burnin' like fire one minnit an' freezin' like ice the next. Who made yer heart leap with happiness when he came near ye, an' ache with sorrow when he went away from ye. Haven't ye ever felt like that, Ethel?"

"Never!" replied Ethel, positively.

Peg went on: "Oh! it's mighty disturbin', I'm tellin' ye. Sometimes ye walk on air, an' at others yer feet are like lead. An' at one time the wurrld's all beautiful flowers and sweet music and grand poetry--an' at another it's all coffins, an' corpses, an' shrouds." She shook her head seriously: "Oh! I tell ye it's mighty disturbin'."