Later Minervy and her "nine haid ob chillern" betook themselves into the town of Annapolis where matrimonial opportunities were greater, and, sure enough, before two months were gone by she presented herself to Peggy, smiling and coy, to ask:

"Please, ma'am, is yo' got any ol' white stuff wha' I could use fer a bridal veil?"

"A BRIDAL veil?" repeated Peggy, horrified at this new development.

"Yas'm, dat's what I askin' fer. Yo' see, Miss Peggy, dat haid waiter man at de Central Hotel, he done fall in love wid ma nine haid o' po' orphanless chillern an' crave fer ter be a daddy to 'em. An' Miss Peggy, honey, Johanna she gwine be ma bride's maid, an' does yo' reckon yo's got any ole finery what yo' kin giv' her? She's jist 'bout yo' size, ma'am."

Johanna was Minervy's eldest daughter.

"Yes. I'll get exactly what you want," cried Peggy, her lips set and her eyes snapping, for her patience was exhausted.

Going to her storeroom Peggy brought to light about three yards of white cotton net and a pistachio green mull gown, long since discarded. It was made with short white lace sleeves and low cut neck.

"Here you are," she said, handing them to Minervy who was thrown into a state of ecstacy. "But wait a moment; it lacks completeness," and she ran to her room for a huge pink satin bow. "There, tell Johanna to pin THAT on her head and the harlequin ice will be complete."

But her sarcasm missed its mark. Then Peggy went to her greenhouses and gathering a bunch of Killarney roses walked out to the little burial lot where the Severndale help slept and laying them upon Joshua's grave said softly:

"YOU were good and true and faithful, and followed your light."

[Footnote: NOTE—The author would like to state that this episode actually did take place upon the estate of a friend.]



CHAPTER XI

PLAYING GOOD SAMARITAN

February had passed and March was again rushing upon Severndale. A cold, wild March, too. Perhaps because it was coming in like a lion it would go out like a lamb. It is nearly a year since we first saw Peggy Stewart seated in the crotch of the snake-fence talking with Shashai and Tzaritza, and in that year her whole outlook upon life has changed. True it was then later in the month and spring filled the air, but a few weeks make vast changes in a Maryland springtide. And Daddy Neil was coming home soon! Coming in time for an alumni meeting during June week at the Academy, and Mr. Harold was coming also. These facts threw every one at Severndale, as well as Mrs. Harold and Polly into a flutter of anticipation. But several weeks—yes, three whole months in fact—must elapse before they would arrive, for the ships were only just leaving Guantanamo for Hampton Roads and then would follow target practice off the Virginia Capes.

Mrs. Harold and Polly were going to run down to Hampton Roads for a week, to meet Mr. Harold, but Commander Stewart's cruiser would not be there. He was ordered to Nicaragua where one of the periodical insurrections was taking place and Uncle Sam's sailor boys' presence would probably prove salutary. At any rate, Neil Stewart could not be at Hampton Roads, and consequently Peggy decided not to go down with her friends, though urged to join them. Meanwhile she worked away with Compadre and as March slipped by acquired for Severndale a most valuable addition to its paddock.

It all came about in a very simple manner, as such things usually do.

All through Maryland are many small farms, some prosperous, some so slack and forlorn that one wonders how the owners subsist at all. It often depends upon the energy and industry of the individual. These farmers drive into Annapolis with their produce, and when one sees the animals driven, and vehicles to which they are harnessed, one often wonders how the poor beasts have had strength to make the journey even if the vehicle has managed to hold together. Often there is a lively "swapping" of horses at the market-place and a horse may change owners three or four times in the course of a morning.

It so happened that Peggy had driven into Annapolis upon one of these market days, and having driven down to the dock to make inquiry for some delayed freight, was on her way back when she noticed a pair of flea- bitten gray horses harnessed to a ramshackle farm wagon. The wagon wheels were inches thick with dry mud, for the wagon had probably never been washed since it had become its present owner's property. The harness was tied in a dozen places with bits of twine, and the horses were so thin and apparently half-starved that Peggy's heart ached to see them. Pulling up her own span she said to Jess:

"Oh, Jess, how CAN any one treat them so? They seem almost too weak to stand, but they have splendid points. Those horses have seen better days or I'm much mistaken and they come of good stock too."

"Dey sho' does, missie," answered Jess, pleased as Punch to see his young mistress' quick eye for fine horseflesh, though it must be admitted that the fine qualities of these horses were well disguised, and only a connoisseur could have detected them.

As they stood looking at the horses the owner came up accompanied by another man. They were in earnest conversation, the owner evidently protesting and his companion expostulating. Something impelled Peggy to tarry, and without seeming to do so, to listen. She soon grasped the situation: The horses' owner owed the other man some money which he was unable to pay. The argument grew heated. Peggy was unheeded. The upshot was the transfer of ownership of one of the span of horses to the other man, the new owner helping unharness the one chosen, its mate looking on with surprised, questioning eyes, as though asking why he, too, was not being unharnessed. The new owner did not seem over-pleased with his bargain either (he lacked Peggy's discernment) and vented his ill-temper upon the poor horse. Presently he led him away, the mate whinnying and calling after his companion in a manner truly pathetic.

"Quick, Jess," ordered Peggy, "go and find out who that man is and where he is taking that horse, but don't let him suspect why."

Jess scrambled out of the surrey, saying: "Yo' count on ME, Miss Peggy. I's wise, I is; I ketches on all right."

Peggy continued to watch. The man sat down upon an upturned box near his wagon, buried his face in his hands and seemed oblivious of all taking place around him. Presently the horse turned toward him and nickered questioningly. The man looked up and reaching out a work-hardened hand, stroked the poor beast's nose, saying:

"'Taint no use, Pepper; he's done gone fer good. Everythin's gone, and I wisht ter Gawd I was done gone too, fer 'taint no use. The fight's too hard for us."

Just then he caught the eye of the young girl watching him. There was something in her expression which seemed to spell hope: he felt utterly hopeless. She smiled and beckoned to him. She was so used to being obeyed that his response was as a matter of course to her. He moved slowly toward the surrey, resting his hand upon the wheel and looking up at her with listless eyes. "You want me, miss?" he asked.

Peggy said gently:

"I couldn't help seeing what happened; I was right here. Please don't think me inquisitive, but would you mind telling me something about your horses? I love them so, and—and—and—I think yours have good blood."

The furrowed, weatherbeaten face seemed transformed as he answered:

"Some of the best in the land, miss. Some of the best. How did ye guess it?"

"I did not guess it; I knew it. I raise horses."

"Then you're Miss Stewart from Severndale, ain't ye?"

"Yes, and you?"

"I'm jist Jim Bolivar. I live 'bout five mile this side of Severndale. Lived there nigh on ter twenty year, but YO' wouldn't never know me, o' course, though I sometimes drives over to yo' place."

"But how do you expect to drive back all that distance with only one horse? Did you sell the other, or only lend him?"

For a moment the man hesitated. Then looking into the clear, tender eyes he said:

"He had ter go, miss. Everything's gone ag'in me for over a year; I owed Steinberger fifty dollars; I couldn't pay him; I'd given Salt fer s'curity."

"Salt?" repeated Peggy in perplexity.

"Yes'm, Pepper's mate. I named 'em Pepper 'n Salt when they was young colts," and a faint smile curved the speaker's lips. Peggy nodded and said:

"Oh, I see. That was clever. They DO look like pepper and salt."

"Did," corrected the man. "There ain't but one now. But Salt were worth more 'n fifty dollars; yes, he were."

"He certainly was," acquiesced Peggy. "Do you want to sell Pepper too?"

"I'd sell my HEART, miss, if I could get things fer Nell."

"Who is Nell?"

"My girl, miss. Nigh 'bout yo' age, I reckons, but not big an' healthy an' spry like yo'. She's ailin' most o' the time, but we's mighty po,' miss, mighty po'. We ain't allers been, but things have gone agin us pretty steady. Last year the hail spoilt the crops, an' oh well, yo' don't want ter hear 'bout my troubles."

"I want to hear about any one's troubles if I can help them. How shall you get back to your place?"

"Reckon I'll have ter onhitch an' ride Pepper back, on'y I jist natchelly hate ter see Nell's face when I get thar 'thout Salt. She set sich store by them horses, an' they'd foiler her anywheres. I sort ter hate ter start, miss."

"Listen to me," said Peggy. "What does Nell most need?"

"Huh! MOST need? Most need? Well if I started in fer ter tell what she MOST needs I reckon you'd be scart nigh ter death. She needs everythin' an' seems like I can't git nothin'."

"Well what did you hope to get for her?" asked Peggy, making a random shot.

"Why she needs some shoes pretty bad, an' the doctor said she ought ter have nourishin' things ter eat, but, somehow, we can't seem ter git many extras."

"Will you go into the market and get what you'd like from Mr. Bodwell? Here, give him this and tell him Miss Stewart sent you," and hastily taking a card from her case, Peggy wrote upon it:

"Please give bearer what is needed," and signed her name. "Get a good thick steak and anything else Nell would like."

The man hesitated. "But I ain't askin' charity, miss."

"This is for NELL, and maybe I'll buy Pepper—if SHE will sell him," flashed Peggy, with a radiant smile.

"I'll do as yo' tell me, miss. Mebbe it's Providence. Nell always says: 'The good Lord'll tell us how, Dad,' an' mebbe she's right, mebbe she is," and worn, weary, discouraged Jim Bolivar went toward the market. During his absence Jess returned.

"Dat man's a no' 'count dead beat, Miss Peggy. Yas'm, he is fer a fac', an' he gwine treat dat hawse scan'lous."

Peggy's eyes grew dark. "We'll see," was all she said, but Jess chuckled. Most of the help at Severndale knew that look. "Jess, unharness that horse and tie him behind the surrey," was her next astonishing order.

"Fo' de Lawd's sake, Miss Peggy, what yo' bown' fer ter do? Yo' gwine start hawsestealin'?" Jess didn't know whether to laugh or take it seriously. When Jim Bolivar returned Pepper was trying to reason out the wherefor of being hitched behind such a handsome vehicle as Peggy's surrey, and Jess was protesting:

"But—but—butter," stammered Jess, "Miss Peggy, yo' am' never in de roun' worl' gwine ter drive from de town an' clar out ter Severndale wid dat disrep'u'ble ol' hawse towin' 'long behime WE ALL?"

"I certainly am, and what is more, Jim Bolivar is going to sit on the back seat and hold the leader. He has got to get HOME and he can't without help. Mr. Bolivar, please do as I say," Peggy's voice held a merry note but her little nod of authority meant "business."

"But look at me, miss," protested Bolivar. "I ain't fit ter ride with yo', no how."

"I am not afraid of criticism," replied Peggy, with the little up- tilting of the head which told of her Stewart ancestry. "When I know a thing is right I DO it. Steady, Comet. Quiet, Meteor," for the horses had been standing some time and seemed inclined to proceed upon two legs instead of four. "We'll stop at Brooks' for the shoes, then we'll go around to Dove's; I've a little commission for him."

"Yas'm, yas'm," nodded Jess.

The shoes were bought, Peggy selecting them and giving them to Bolivar with the words: "It will soon be Easter and this is my Easter gift to Nellie, with my love," she added with a smile which made the shoes a hundred-fold more valuable.

Then off to the livery stable.

"Mr. Dove, do you know a man named Steinberger?"

"I know an old skinflint by that name," corrected Dove.

"Well, you are to buy a horse from him. Seventy-five dollars OUGHT to be the price, but a hundred is available if necessary. But do your best. The horse's name is Salt—yes—that is right," as Dove looked incredulous, "and he is a flea-bitten gray—mate to this one behind us. Steinberger bought him today, and I want you to beat him at his own game if you can, for he has certainly beaten a better man."

"You count on me, Miss Stewart, you count on me. Whatever YOU say goes with me."

"Thank you, I'll wait and see what happens."

Their homeward progress was slower than usual, for poor half-starved Pepper could not keep pace with Comet and Meteor. About four miles from Annapolis Bolivar directed them into a by-road which led to an isolated farm, as poor, forlorn a specimen as one could find. But in spite of its disrepair there was something of home in its atmosphere and the dooryard was carefully brushed. Turkey red curtains at the lower windows gave an air of cheeriness to the lonely place. As they drew near a hound came bounding out to greet them with a deep-throated bark, and a moment later a girl about Peggy's age appeared at the door. Peggy thought she had never seen a sweeter or a sadder face. She was fair to transparency with great questioning blue eyes, masses of golden hair waving softly back from her face and gathered into a thick braid. She walked with a slight limp, and looked in surprise at the strange visitors, and her big blue eyes were full of a vague doubt.

"It's all right, honey. It's all right," called Bolivar. "'Aint nothin' but Providence a-workin' out, I reckon, jist like yo' say.

"We have brought your father and Pepper home. Salt is all right, Nelly. You will see him again pretty soon."

"Oh, has anything happened to Salt, Dad?" asked the girl quickly.

"Well, not anything, so-to-speak. Jist let Miss Stewart, here, run it and it'll come out all right. I'm bankin' on that, judgin' from the way she's done so far. She's got a head a mile long, honey, she has, an' has mine beat ter a frazzle. Mine's kind o' wore out I reckon, an' no 'count, no more. Come long out an' say howdy."

Nelly Bolivar came to the surrey and smiling up into Peggy's face, said:

"Of course I know who you are, everybody does, but I never expected to really, truly know you, and I'm a right proud girl to shake hands with you," and a thin hand, showing marks of toil, was held to Peggy. There was a sweet dignity in the act and words.

Peggy took it in her gloved one, saying:

"I didn't suspect I was so well known. For a quiet girl I'm beginning to know a lot of people. But I must go now, it is getting very late. Your father is going to bring Pepper over to see me soon and maybe he will bring you, too. He has such a lot to tell you that I'll not delay it a bit longer. Good-bye, and remember a lot of pleasant things are going to happen," and with the smile which won all who knew her, Peggy drove away.

If people's right ears burn when others are speaking kindly of them, Peggy's should have burned hard that evening, for Nelly Bolivar listened eagerly as her father told of the afternoon's experiences and Peggy's part in them.

Two days later Salt was delivered at Severndale. Dove had been as good as his word. Shelby gave him one glance and said:

"Well, if some men knew a HOSS as quick as that thar girl does, there'd be fewer no 'count beasts in the world. Put him in a stall and tell Jim Jarvis I want him to take care of him as if he was the Emperor. I know what I'm sayin', an' Miss Peggy knows what she's a-doin', an' that's more 'n I kin say for MOST women-folks."

So Salt found himself in the lap of luxury and one week of it so transformed him that at the end of it poor Pepper would hardly have known his mate. Yet with all the care bestowed upon him the poor horse grieved for his mate, and never did hoof-beat fall upon the ground without his questioning neigh.

Peggy visited him every day and was touched by his response to her petting; it showed what Nelly had done for him. But she was quick to understand the poor creature's nervous watching for his lost mate, and evident loneliness. At length she had him turned into the paddock with the other horses, but even this failed to console him. He stood at the paling looking down the road, again and again neighing his call for the companion which failed to answer. Peggy began to wonder what had become of Jim Bolivar. Two more weeks passed. Mrs. Harold and Polly had returned from Old Point and upon a beautiful April afternoon Polly and Peggy were out on the little training track where Polly, mounted upon Silver Star, was taking her first lesson in hurdles; a branch of her equestrian education which thus far had not been taken up.

Star was beautifully trained, and took the low hurdles like a lapwing, though it must be confessed that Polly felt as though her head had snapped off short the first time he rose and landed.

"My gracious, Peggy, do you nearly break your neck every time you take a fence?" she cried, settling her hat which had flopped down over her face.

"Not quite," laughed Peggy, skimming over a five-barred hurdle as though it were five inches. "But, oh, Polly, look at Salt! Look at him! He acts as though he'd gone crazy," she cried, for the horse had come to the fence which divided his field from the track and was neighing and pawing in the most excited manner, now and again making feints of springing over.

"Why I believe he would jump if he only knew how," answered Polly eagerly.

"And I believe he DOES know how already," and Peggy slipped from Shashai to go to the fence. Just then, however, the sound of an approaching vehicle caught her ears, and the next instant Salt was tearing away across the field like a wild thing, neighing loudly with every bound, and from the roadway came the answering neigh for which he had waited so long, and Pepper came plodding along, striving his best to hasten toward the call he knew and loved. But Pepper had not been full-fed with oats, corn and bran-mashes, doctored by a skilled hand, or groomed by Jim Jarvis, as Salt had been for nearly four blissful weeks, and an empty stomach is a poor spur. But he could come to the fence and rub noses with Salt, and Peggy and Polly nearly fell into each other's arms with delight.

"Oh, doesn't it make you just want to cry to see them?" said Polly, half tearfully.

"They shan't be separated again," was Peggy's positive assertion. "How do you do, Mr. Bolivar? Why, Nelly, have you been ill?" for the girl looked almost too sick to sit up.

"Yes, Miss Peggy, that's why Dad couldn't come sooner. He had to take care of me. He has fretted terribly over it too, because—"

"Now, now! Tut, tut, honey. Never mind, Miss Peggy don't want to hear nothin' 'bout—"

"Yes she does, too, and Nelly will tell us, She is coming right up to the house with us—this is my friend Miss Polly Howland, Nelly—Nelly Bolivar, Polly—and while you go find Shelby, Mr. Bolivar, and tell him I say to take—oh, here you are, Shelby. This is Mr. Bolivar. Please take him up to your cottage and take GOOD care of him, and give Pepper the very best feed he ever had. Then turn him out in the pasture with Salt. "We will be back again in an hour to talk horse just as fast as we can, and DON'T FORGET WHAT I TOLD YOU ABOUT PEPPER'S POINTS."

"I won't, Miss Peggy, but I ain't got to open more'n HALF an eye no how."

Peggy laughed, then slipping her arm through Nelly's, said:

"Come up to the house with us. Mammy will know what you need to make you feel stronger, and you are going to be Polly's and my girl this afternoon."

Quick to understand, Polly slipped to Nelly's other side, and the two strong, robust girls, upon whom fortune and Nature had smiled so kindly, led their less fortunate little sister to the great house.



CHAPTER XII

THE SPICE OF PEPPER AND SALT

About an hour later the girls were back at the paddock, Nelly's face alight with joy, for it had not taken good old Mammy long to see that the chief cause of Nelly's lack of strength was lack of proper nourishment, and her skilled old hands were soon busy with sherry and raw eggs as a preliminary, to be followed by one of Aunt Cynthia's dainty little luncheons; a luncheon composed of what Mammy hinted "mus' be somethin' wha' gwine fer ter stick ter dat po' chile's ribs, 'case she jist nachelly half-starved."

Consequently, the half-hour spent in partaking of it did more to put new life in little Nelly Bolivar than many days had done before, and there was physical strength and mental spirit also to sustain her.

The old carryall still stood near the training track and saying:

"Now you sit in there and rest while Polly and I do stunts for your amusement," Peggy helped Nelly into the seat.

"I feel just like a real company lady," said Nelly happily, as she settled herself to watch the girls whom she admired with all the ardor of her starved little soul.

"You ARE a real company lady," answered Peggy and Polly, "and we are going to entertain you with a sure-enough circus. All you've got to do is to applaud vigorously no matter how poor the show. Come on, Polly," and springing upon their horses, which had mean-time been patiently waiting in the care of Bud, off they raced around the track, Nelly watching with fascinated gaze.

Meanwhile Pepper and Salt had been rejoicing in their reunion, Salt full of spirit and pranks as the result of his good care, and poor Pepper, for once full-fed, wonderfully "chirkered" up in consequence, though in sharp contrast to his mate.

As Peggy and Polly cavorted around the track, racing, jumping and cutting all manner of pranks, Salt's attention to his mate seemed to be diverted. The antics of Star and Shashai, unhampered, happy and free as wild things, seemed to excite him past control. Again and again he ran snorting toward the paling, turning to whinny an invitation to Pepper, but, even with his poor, half-starved stomach for once well-filled, Pepper could not enthuse as his mate did; ONE square meal a year cannot compensate for so many others missed, and bring about miracles.

Around and around the track swept the girls, taking hurdles, and cutting a dozen antics. At length Peggy, who had been watching Salt, stopped, and saying to Polly:

"I'm going to try an experiment," she slipped from Shashai's back. Going to the fence she vaulted the four-foot barrier as easily as Shashai would have skimmed over six. Salt came to her at once, but Pepper hesitated. It was only momentary, for soon both heads were nestling confidingly to her. She was never without her little bag of sugar and a lump or two were eagerly accepted. Then going to Salt's side she crooned into his ear some of her mysterious "nightmare talk," as Shelby called it. It was a curious power the girl exercised over animals—almost hypnotic. Salt nozzled and fussed over her. Then saying:

"Steady, boy. Steady." She gave one of her sudden springs and landed astride his back, saddleless and halterless. He gave a startled snort and tore away around the paddock. Polly was now used to any new departure, but Nelly gave a little shriek and clasped her hands. "She is all right, don't be frightened," smiled Polly. "She can do anything with a horse; I sometimes think she must have been a horse herself once upon a time." Nelly looked puzzled, but Polly laughed. Meanwhile Peggy was talking to her unusual mount. He seemed a trifle bewildered, but presently struck into a long, sweeping run—the perfect stride of the racer. Peggy gave a quick little nod of understanding as she felt the long, gliding motion she knew so well. As she came around to her friends she reached forward and laying hold of a strand of the silvery mane, said softly: "Who—ooa. Steady." What was it in the girl's voice which commanded obedience? Salt stopped close to his mate and began to rub noses with him as though confiding a secret.

"Bud," commanded Peggy, "go to the stable and fetch me a snaffle bridle." The bridle was brought and carefully adjusted.

"Come, Salt, NOW we will put it to the test; those flank muscles mean something unless I'm mistaken."

During all this Shelby and Bolivar had come up to the paddock and stood watching the girl.

"Ain't she jist one fair clipper?" asked Shelby, proudly. "Lord, but that girl's worth about a dozen of your ornery kind. She's a thoroughbred all through, she is."

"Well, I ain't never seen nothin' like that, fer a fact, I ain't. I knowed them was good horses, but, well, I didn't know they was SADDLE horses."

"They've more'n SADDLE horses, man, an' I'm bettin' a month's wages your eyes'll fair pop out inside five minutes. I know HER ways. I larned 'em to her, some on 'em, at least—but most was born in her. They HAS ter be. There's some things can't be L'ARNT, man."

Once more Peggy started, this time her mount showing greater confidence in her. At first they loped lightly around the paddock, poor old Pepper alternately following, then stopping to look at his mate, apparently trying to reason it all out. Gradually the pace increased until once more Salt swept along in the stride which from time immemorial has distinguished racing blood. The fifth time around the broad field, Peggy turned him suddenly and making straight for the paling, cried in a ringing voice:

"On! On! Up—Over!"

The horse quivered, his muscles grew tense, then there was a gathering together of the best in him and the fence was taken as only running blood takes an obstacle.

Then HER surprise came:

Pepper meantime seemed to have lost his wits. As Salt neared the fence, the mate who for years had plodded beside him began to tear around and around the field, snorting, whinnying and giving way to the wildest excitement. As Salt skimmed over the fence Pepper's decorum fled, and with a loud neigh he tore after him, made a wild leap and cleared the barrier by a foot, then startled and shaken from his unwonted exertion, he stood with legs wide apart, trembling and quivering.

In an instant Peggy had wheeled her mount and was beside the poor frightened creature; frightened because his blood had asserted itself and he had literally outdone himself. Slipping from Salt's back she tossed her bridle to Shelby who had hurried toward her, and taking Pepper's head in her arms petted and caressed him as she would have petted and caressed a child which had made a superhuman effort to perform some seemingly impossible act.

"Nelly, Nelly, come here. Come. He will know your voice so much better than mine," she called, and Nelly scrambled out of the wagon as quickly as possible, crying:

"Why, Miss Stewart, HOW did you do it. Why we never knew they were so wonderful. Oh, Dad, did you know they could jump and run like that?"

"I knew they come o' stock that HAD run, an' jumped like that, but I didn't know all that ginger was in 'em. No I did NOT. It took Miss Stewart fer ter find THAT out, an' she sure has found it. Why, Pepper, old hoss," he added, stroking the horse's neck, "you've sartin' done yo'self proud this day."

Pepper nozzled and nickered over him, evidently trying to tell him that the act had been partly inspired by the call of the blood, and partly by his love for his mate. Perhaps Bolivar did not interpret it just that way, but PEGGY DID.

"Mr. Bolivar, I know Nelly loves Pepper and Salt, but I'd like to make you an offer for those horses just the same. I knew when I first saw them that they had splendid possibilities and only needed half a chance. You need two strong, able work-horses for your farm—these horses are both too high-bred for such work, that you know as well as I do—so I propose that we make a sensible bargain right now. We have a span of bays; good, stout fellows six years old, which we have used on the estate. They shall be yours for this pair with one hundred and twenty- five dollars to boot. Salt and Pepper are worth six hundred dollars right now, and in a little while, and under proper care and training, will be worth a good deal more. Shelby will bear me out in that, won't you?"

"I'd be a plumb fool if I didn't, miss," was Shelby's reply, and Peggy nodded and resumed: "I have paid seventy-five dollars for Salt, adding to that the one-twenty-five and the span, which I value at four hundred, would make it a square deal, don't you think so?"

Bolivar looked at the girl as though he thought she had taken leave of her wits. "One hundred and twenty-five dollars, and a span worth four hundred for a pair of horses which a month before he would have found it hard to sell for seventy-five each?—well, Miss Stewart must certainly be crazy." Peggy laughed at his bewilderment.

"I'm perfectly serious, Mr. Bolivar," she said.

"Yas'm, yas'm, but, my Lord, miss, I ain't seen THAT much money in two year, and your horses—I ain't seen 'em, and I don't want ter; if YOU say they're worth it that goes, but—but—well, well, things has been sort o' tough—sort o' tough," and poor, tired, discouraged Jim Bolivar leaned upon the fence and wept from sheer bodily weakness and nervous exhaustion.

Nelly ran to his side to clasp her arms about him and cry:

"Dad! Dad! Poor Dad. Don't! Don't! It's all right, Dad. We won't worry about things. God has taken care of us so far and He isn't going to stop."

"That ain't it, honey. That ain't it," said poor Bolivar, slipping a trembling arm about her. "It's—it's—oh, I can't jist rightly say what 'tis."

"Wall by all that's great, I know, then," exclaimed Shelby, clapping him on the shoulder. "I know, 'cause I've BEEN there: It's bein' jist down, out an' discouraged with everythin' and not a blame soul fer ter give a man a boost when he needs it. I lived all through that kind o' thing afore I came ter Severndale, an' 'taint a picter I like fer ter dwell upon. No it ain't, an' we're goin' ter bust yours ter smithereens right now. You don't want fer ter look at it no longer."

"No I don't, I don't fer a fact," answered Bolivar, striving manfully to pull himself together and dashing from his eyes the tears which he felt had disgraced him.

Peggy drew near. Her eyes were soft and tender as a doe's, and the pretty lips quivered as she said:

"Mr. Bolivar, please don't try to go home tonight. Shelby can put you up, and Nelly shall stay with me. You are tired and worn out and the change will do you good. Then you can see the horses and talk it all over with Shelby, and by tomorrow things will look a lot brighter. And Nelly and I will have a little talk together too."

"I can't thank ye, miss. No, I can't. There ain't no words big nor grand enough fer ter do that. I ain't never seen nothin' like it, an' yo've made a kind o' heaven fer Nelly. Yes, go 'long with Miss Peggy, honey. Ye ain't never been so looked after since yo' ma went on ter Kingdom Come." He kissed the delicate little face and turning to Shelby, said:

"Now come on an' I'll quit actin' like a fool."

"There's other kinds o' fools in this world," was Shelby's cryptic reply. "Jim," he called, "look after them horses," indicating Pepper and Salt, and once more united, the two were led away to the big stable where their future was destined to bring fame to Severndale.

Bolivar went with Shelby to his quarters, and their interest in riding having given way to the greater one in Nelly, the girls told Bud to take their horses back to the stable. From that moment, Nelly Bolivar's life was transformed. The following day she and her father went back to the little farm behind the well conditioned span from Severndale, and a good supply of provisions for all, for Shelby had insisted upon giving them what he called, "a good send off" on his own account, and enough oats and corn went with Tom and Jerry, as the new horses were named, to keep them well provisioned for many a day.

"Jist give 'em half a show an' they'll earn their keep," advised Shelby. "I'll stop over before long and lend a hand gettin' things ship-shape. I know they're boun' ter get out o' kilter when yo' don't have anybody ter help. One pair o' hands kin only do jist so much no matter how hard they work. Good luck."

From that hour Nelly was Peggy's protege. The little motherless girl living so close to Severndale, her home, her circumstances in such contrast to her own, wakened in Peggy an understanding of what lay almost at her door, and so many trips were made to the little farm-house that spring that Shashai and Tzaritza often started in that direction of their own accord when Peggy set forth upon one of her outings.

And meanwhile, over in the hospital, Dunmore was growing weaker and weaker as the advancing springtide was bringing to Nelly Bolivar renewed health and strength, so strangely are things ordered in this world, and with Easter the brave spirit took its flight, leaving many to mourn the lad whom all had so loved. For some time the shadow of his passing lay upon the Academy, then spring athletics absorbed every one's interest and Ralph made the crew, to Polly's intense delight. In May he rowed on the plebe crew against a high school crew and beat them "to a standstill." Then came rehearsal for the show to be given by the Masqueraders, the midshipmen's dramatic association, and at this occurred something which would have been pronounced utterly impossible had the world's opinion been asked. The show was to be given the last week in May.

Mr. Harold and Mr. Stewart would arrive a few days before, each on a month's leave. As Happy was one of the moving spirits of the show, he was up to his eyes in business. Clever in everything he undertook, he was especially talented in music, playing well and composing in no mediocre manner. He had written practically all the score of the musical comedy to be given by the Masqueraders, and among other features, a whistling chorus.

Now if there was one thing Polly could do it was whistle. Indeed, she insisted that it was her only accomplishment and many a happy little impromptu concert was given in Middies' Haven with Happy's guitar, Shortie's mandolin and Durand's violin.

Of course, all the characters in the play were taken by the boys, many of them making perfectly fascinating girls, but when the whistling chorus was written by Happy, Polly was no small aid to him, and again and again this chorus was rehearsed in Middies' Haven, sometimes by a few of the number who would compose it, and again by the entire number; the star performer being a little chap from Ralph's class whose voice still held its boyish treble and whose whistle was like a bird's notes. Naturally, Polly had learned the entire score, for one afternoon during the past autumn while the girls were riding through the beautiful woodlands near Severndale, Polly had whistled an answer to a bob-white's call. So perfect had been her mimicry that the bird had been completely deceived and answering repeatedly, had walked almost up to Silver Star's feet. Peggy was enraptured, and then learned that Polly could mimic many bird calls, and whistle as sweetly as the birds themselves. Peggy had lost no time in making this known to the boys, much to Polly's embarrassment, but the outcome had been the delightful little concerts, and Happy had made the various bird notes the theme of his bird chorus. It was a wonderfully pretty thing and bound to make a big hit, so all agreed. Consequently, little Van Nostrand had been drilled until he declared he woke himself up in the night whistling, and so the days sped away. Mr. Harold and Daddy Neil had arrived and the morning of the Masqueraders' show dawned. In less than twelve hours the bird chorus would be on the stage whistling Polly's bird notes. Then Wharton Van Nostrand fell ill with tonsilitis and was packed off to the hospital!

Happy was desperate. Who under the sun would take his part? There was not another man whose voice was like Wharton's. Happy flew about like a distracted hen, at length rushing to Mrs. Harold and begging her to give him just TEN minutes private interview.

"Why, what under the sun do you want, Happy?" she asked, going into her own room and debarring all the others whose curiosity was at the snapping point. When they emerged Happy's face was brimful of glee, but Mrs. Harold warned:

"Mind the promise is only conditional: If Polly says 'yes' well and good, but if you let the secret out you and I will be enemies forevermore."



CHAPTER XIII

THE MASQUERADERS' SHOW

It was the night of the Masqueraders' Show. The auditorium was packed, for Annapolis was thronged with the relatives of the graduating class as well as hundreds of visitors.

Among others were Polly Howland's mother, her married sister Constance, and her brother-in-law, Harry Hunter, now an ensign. They had been married at Polly's home in Montgentian, N.J., almost a year ago. Harry Hunter had graduated from the Academy the year Happy and his class were plebes, and had been the two-striper of the company of which Wheedles was now the two-striper. His return to Annapolis with his lovely young wife was the signal for all manner of festive doings, and it need hardly be added that Mrs. Harold's party had a row of seats which commanded every corner of the stage. Mr. Stewart and Peggy were of the party, of course, and anything radiating more perfect happiness than Peggy's face that night it would have been hard to find. Was not Daddy Neil beside her, and in her private opinion the finest looking officer present? Again and again as she sat next him she slipped her hand into his to give it a rapturous little squeeze. Nor was "Daddy Neil" lacking in appreciation of the favors of the gods. The young girl sitting at his side, in spite of her modesty and utter lack of self-consciousness, was quite charming enough to make any parent's heart thrill with pride. With her exceptional tact, Mrs. Harold had won Harrison's favor, Harrison pronouncing her: "A real, born lady, more like your own ma than any one you've met up with since you lost her; SHE was one perfect lady if one ever lived."

It had been rather a delicate position for Mrs. Harold to assume, that of unauthorized guardian and counsellor to this young girl who had come into her life by such an odd chance, but Mrs. Harold seemed to be born to mother all the world, and subtly Harrison recognized the fact that Peggy was growing beyond her care and guidance, and the thousand little amenities of the social world in which she would so soon move and have her being. For more than a year this knowledge had been a source of disquietude to the good soul who for eight years had guarded her little charge so faithfully, and she had often confided to Mammy Lucy:

"That child is getting clear beyond ME. She's growin' up that fast it fair takes my breath away, and she knows more right now in five minutes than I ever knew in my whole life, though 'twouldn't never in this world do to let her suspicion it."

Consequently, once having sized up Mrs. Harold, and fully decided as the months rolled by that she "weren't no meddlesome busybody, a-trying to run things," she was only too glad to ask her advice in many instances, and Peggy's toilet this evening was one of them. Poor old Harrison had begun to find the intricacies of a young girl's toilet a trifle too complex for her, and had gone to Mrs. Harold for advice. The manner in which it was given removed any lingering vestige of doubt remaining in Harrison's soul, and tonight Peggy was a vision of girlish loveliness in a soft pink crepe meteor made with a baby waist, the round neck frilled with the softest lace, the little puffed sleeves edged with it, and a "Madam Butterfly" sash and bow of the crepe encircling her lithe waist. Her hair was drawn loosely back and tied a la pompadour with a bow of pink satin ribbon, another gathering in the rich, soft abundance of it just below the neck.

By chance she sat between Mrs. Howland and her father, Mrs. Harold was next Mrs. Howland, with Mr. Harold, Constance and Snap just beyond, and Polly at the very end of the seat, though why she had slipped there Mrs. Howland could not understand.

Peggy had instantly been attracted to Mrs. Howland and had fallen in love with Constance as only a young girl can give way to her admiration for another several years her senior. But there was nothing of the foolish "crush" in her attitude: it was the wholesome admiration of a normal girl, and Constance was quick to feel it. Mrs. Howland was smaller and daintier than Mrs. Harold, though in other ways there was a striking resemblance between these two sisters. Mrs. Harold, largely as the result of having lived among people in the service, was prompt, decisive of action, and rather commanding in manner, though possessing a most tender, sympathetic heart. Mrs. Howland, whose whole life had been spent in her home, with the exception of the trips taken with her husband and children when they were young, for she had been a widow many years, had a rather retiring manner, gentle and lovable, and, as Peggy thought, altogether adorable, for her manner with Polly was tenderness itself, and Polly's love for her mother was constantly manifested in a thousand little affectionate acts. She had a little trick of running up to her and half crying, half crooning:

"Let me play cooney-kitten and get close," and then nestling her sunny head into her mother's neck, where the darker head invariably snuggled down against it and a caressing hand stroked the spun gold as a gentle voice said:

"Mother's sun-child. The little daughter who helps fill her world with light." Polly loved to hear those words and Peggy thought how dear it must be to have some claim to such a tender love and know that one meant so much to the joy and happiness of another.

Mrs. Harold had written a great deal of Peggy's history to this sister, so Mrs. Howland felt by no means a stranger to the young girl beside her, and her heart was full of sympathy when she thought of her lonely life in spite of all this world had given her of worldly goods.

Meantime the little opera opened with a dashing chorus, a ballet composed, apparently, of about fifty fetching young girls, gowned in the most up-to-date costumes, wearing large picture hats which were the envy of many a real feminine heart in the audience, and carrying green parsols with long sticks and fascinating tassles. Oh, the costumer knew his business and those dainty high-heeled French slippers seemed at least five sizes smaller than they really were as they tripped so lightly through the mazes of the ballet. But alack! the illusion was just a TRIFLE dispelled when the ballet-girls broke into a rollicking chorus, for some of those voices boomed across the auditorium with an undoubtable masculine power.

Nevertheless, the ballet was encored until the poor dancers were mopping rouge-tinged perspiration from their faces. One scene followed another in rapid order, all going off without a hitch until the curtain fell upon the first act, and during the interval and general bustle of friend greeting friend Polly and Mrs. Harold disappeared. At first, Mrs. Howland was not aware of their absence, then becoming alive to it she asked:

"Connie, dear, what has become of Aunt Janet and Polly?"

"I am sure I don't know, mother. They were here only a moment ago," answered Constance.

"I saw them go off with Happy, beating it for all they were worth toward the wings, Carissima," answered Snap, using for Mrs. Howland the name he had given her when he first met her, for this splendid big son-in-law loved her as though she were his own mother, and that love was returned in full.

"Peggy, dear, can you enlighten us?" asked Mrs. Howland looking at the girl beside her, for her lips were twitching and her eyes a-twinkle.

Peggy laughed outright, then cried contritely:

"Oh, I beg your pardon, Mrs. Howland, I did not mean to be rude, but it is a secret, and such a funny one, too; I'd tell if I dared but I've promised not to breathe it."

"Run out an extra cable then, daughter," laughed Commander Stewart.

"I think this one will hold," was Mrs. Howland's prompt answer, with a little pat upon Peggy's soft arm. "She's a staunch little craft, I fancy. I won't ask a single question if I must not." A moment later the lights were lowered and the curtains were rung back. The scene drew instant applause. It was a pretty woodland with a stream flowing in the background. Grouped upon the stage in picturesque attitudes were about forty figures costumed to represent various birds, and in their midst was a charming little maiden, evidently the only human being in this bird-world, and presently it was disclosed to the audience that she was held as a hostage to these bird-beings, until the prince of their enchanted world should be released from bondage in the land of human beings and restored to them.

"Why who in this world can that little chap be?"

"I didn't know there was such a tiny midshipman in the whole brigade."

"Doesn't he make a perfectly darling girl, though?"

"Perfectly lovable, hugable and adorable," were the laughing comments.

In the dim light Peggy buried her head in Daddy Neil's lap, trying to smother her laughter.

"You—you little conspirator," he whispered. "I believe I've caught on."

"Oh, don't whisper it. Don't!" instantly begged Peggy. "Polly would never forgive me for letting out the secret."

"You haven't. I just did a little Yankee guessing, and I reckon I'm not far from the mark."

"Hush, and listen. Isn't it pretty?"

It was, indeed, pretty. The captive princess, captured because she had learned the secret of the bird language, began a little plaintive whistling call, soft, sweet, musical as a flute; the perfect notes of the hermit thrush. This was evidently the theme to be elaborated upon and the chorus took it up, led so easily, so harmoniously and so faultlessly by the dainty little figure with its bird-like notes. From the hermit-thrush's note to the liquid call of the wood-thrush, the wood-peewee, the cardinal's cheery song, the whip-poor-will's insistent questioning, on through the gamut of cat-birds, warblers, bob-whites and a dozen others, ran the pretty chorus, with its variations, the little princess' and her jailor birds' dancing and whistling completing the clever theme. When it ended the house went mad clapping, calling, shouting: "Encore! Encore!"

And before it could be satisfied the obliging actors had given their chorus and ballet five times, and the whistlers' throats were dry as powder. As they left the stage for the last time the little princess flung HERself into Mrs. Harold's arms, gasping.

"I know my whistle is smashed, destroyed, and mined beyond repair, Aunt Janet, but oh, wasn't it perfectly splendid to do it for the boys and hear that house applaud them."

"Them?" cried a feathered creature coming up to give Polly a clap upon the back as he would have given a classmate. "Them! And where the mischief do YOU come in on this show-down? There listen to that. Do you know what it means? It means come out there in front of that curtain and get what's coming to you. Come on."

"Oh, I can't! I can't! They'd recognize me and I wouldn't have them for worlds. Not for worlds! It would be perfectly awful," and Polly shrank back abashed.

"Recognized! Awful nothing! You've got to come out. It's part of the performance," and hand in hand with Happy and Wheedles the abashed little princess was led before the foot-lights to receive an ovation and enough American beauty roses to hide her in a good-sized bower. As she started back she let fall some of her posies. Instantly, Wheedles was upon his knees, his hand pressed to his heart, and his eyes dancing with fun, as he handed her the roses. Shouts and renewed applause went up from the auditorium.

"I KNOW that is a girl. I am positive of it. But WHO can she be?" was the comment of one of the ladies behind Mrs. Howland.

"Well I have an idea I might tell her name if I chose," said Mrs. Howland under her breath to Peggy.

"Didn't she do it beautifully?" whispered Peggy, squeezing Mrs. Howland's hand in a rapture. "But please don't tell. Please don't."

Mrs. Howland smiled down upon the eager face upraised to hers. "Do you think I am likely to?" she asked.

Peggy nodded her head in negative, but before she could say more Polly and another girl came walking down the aisle. Even Peggy looked in surprise at the newcomer, then she gave a little gasp. The girl was much taller than Polly, and rather broad shouldered for a girl, but strange to relate, looked enough like Peggy to be her twin. Mr. Stewart gave a startled exclamation and seemed about to rise from his seat. Peggy laid a detaining hand upon his and whispered: "Don't." Her father looked at her as though he did not know whether his wits or hers were departing. The play was again in progress so Polly and her companion took their seats next Mrs. Harold who had returned some minutes before. Polly was doing her best to control her laughter, but the girl with her was the very personification of decorum.

"In heaven's name who IS that girl?" Peggy's father asked in a low voice.

"He's—he's—" and Peggy broke down.

"What?"

"Yes—I'll tell you later, but isn't it too funny for words?"

"Why child she—he-ahem—that PERSON is enough like you to be your sister. Who—" and poor puzzled Neil Stewart was too bewildered to complete his sentence or follow the play.

"Yes; I've known that from the first and it is perfectly absurd," answered Peggy, "but I never realized HOW like me until this minute. But he will catch the very mischief if he is found out. But WHERE did he get those clothes? They aren't a part of the costumes so far as I know."

But there is just where Peggy's calculations fell down, for the dainty lingerie gown, with its exquisite Charlotte Corday hat had been added to the costumes to substitute others which had been ordered but could not be supplied. Consequently Peggy had not happened to see it.

And the handsome girl? Well she certainly WAS a beauty with her dark hair, perfect eyebrows, flashing dark eyes and faultless teeth. Her skin was dark but the cheeks were mantled with a wonderful color. As the play was still in progress, she could not, of course, enter into conversation with Polly's friends, but her smile was fascinating to a rare degree.

At length the second act ended, and Neil Stewart could stand it no longer.

"Peggy, introduce me to that girl right off. Why—-why, she might be you," and Peggy's father fairly mopped his brow in perturbation.

Peggy beckoned to the new arrival who managed to slip around the aisle and come to her end of the seat. If she minced with a rather affected step it was not commented upon. Most people were too fascinated by her beauty to criticise her walk. The look which the two exchanged puzzled Mr. Stewart more than ever. Peggy's lips were quivering as she said:

"Miss—er, Miss Leroux, I want you to know Mrs. Howland and my father."

"So delighted to," replied "Miss" Leroux, but at the words Mrs. Rowland gave a little gasp and Mr. Stewart who had risen to meet Peggy's friend, started as though some one had struck him, for the voice, even with Durand's best attempts to disguise it to a feminine pitch, held a quality which no girl's voice ever held.

"Well I'll be—I'll be—why you unqualified scamp, who ARE you, and what do you mean by looking so exactly like my girl here that I don't know whether I've one daughter or two?" Then Durand fled, laughing as only Durand could—with eyes, lips and an indescribable expression which made both the laugh and himself absolutely irresistible.

The following week sped away and before any one quite knew where it had gone the great June ball was a thing of the past and the morning had come which would mean the dividing of the ways for many.

Happy, Wheedles, and Shortie had graduated and would have a month's leave. Durand was now a second-classman, Ralph a youngster, and about to start upon the summer practice cruise.

The ships were to run down to Hampton Roads and then up to New London, where Mrs. Harold and all her party were to meet them, she and Mrs. Howland having taken rooms at the Griswold for the period the ships would be at New London.

They had asked Peggy to go with them and when "Daddy Neil" arrived he was included in the invitation.

But Daddy Neil had a plan or two of his own, and these plans he was not long in turning over with Mr. Harold to the satisfaction of all concerned, and they all decided that they "beat the first ones out of sight."

As Daddy Neil was a man of prompt action he was not long in carrying them into effect, and they were nothing more nor less than a big house party in New London rather than the hotel life which had been planned. So telegraph wires were kept busy, and in no time one of the Griswold cottages was at the disposal of the entire party.



CHAPTER XIV

OFF FOR NEW LONDON

"Now I'm going to run THIS show, Harold, and you may just as well pipe down," rumbled Neil Stewart in his deep, wholesome voice. "Besides, I'm your ranking officer and here's where I prove it," he added, forcing Mr. Harold into his pet Morris chair and towering above him, his genial laugh filling the room.

It was the Sunday afternoon following graduation. Many, indeed the greater portion of the graduates, had left for their homes, or to pay visits to friends before joining their ships at the end of their month's leave, though some still lingered, their plans as yet unformed.

Wilmot Hall was practically deserted, for the scattering which takes place after graduation is hard to understand unless one is upon the scene to witness it.

Mr. and Mrs. Harold, with Mr. Stewart, Peggy, Mrs. Howland, Constance, Snap, Polly, Shortie, Wheedles and Happy were gathered in Middies' Haven, and Neil Stewart had the floor. Since his return to Severndale he had spent more than half the time at Wilmot where his lodestar, Peggy, was staying with those she had grown to love so dearly, and where she was so entirely happy. Mr. Stewart had taken a room for June week in order to be near her, feeling reluctant to take her away from the friends who had done so much for her; more, a vast deal, he felt, than he could ever repay. It did not take him long to see the change which nine months had made in this little girl of his.

Always lovable and exceptionally capable, there was now the added charm which association with a girl of her own age had developed in spontaneity, and her attitude toward Mrs. Harold—the pretty little affectionate demonstrations so unconsciously made—revealed to her father what Peggy had lacked for nearly nine years, and he began to waken to the fact to which Mrs. Harold had been alive for some time: that without meaning to be selfish in his sorrow for Peggy's mother, he had been wholly self-absorbed, leaving Peggy to live her life in a little world of her own creation.

During the past two weeks HE had been put through a pretty severe scrutiny by Mrs. Harold, and in spite of her prejudices she began to see how circumstances had conspired to evolve the unusual order of things for both father and daughter, and her heart softened toward the big man who, while so complete a master of every situation on board his own ship, was so helpless to cope with this domestic problem. Nor could she see her way clear to remedy it further than she had already done. It seemed to be one of life's handicaps. But we can not understand the "why" of all things in this world, and must leave a great deal of it to the Father of all. Just now it seemed as though Neil Stewart was the instrument of that ordering.

Mr. Harold looked up at him and joined in the laugh.

"Maybe you think I'm going to give these fellows a demonstration of insubordination the very first clip. Not on your life. Fire away. You have the deck."

"Well, I've got my cottage up there in New London—a good one too, if I can judge by all the hot air that has escaped concerning it. Jerome and Mammy are packed off to open it up and make it habitable against our arrival, and everything's all skee and shipshape so far as THAT part of the plan is blocked out. The ship's in commission but now comes the question of her personnel. You, Harold, and your wife have been good enough to act as second and third in command but we must have junior officers. Thus far the detail foots up only five; just a trifle shy on numbers, and I want it to number, let me see, at least eleven," and he nodded toward the others seated about the room. Some looked at him in doubt. Then Happy said:

"But, Mr. Stewart. I'm afraid I've got to beat it for home, sir."

"Where is home?"

"Up the Hudson, sir."

"That's all right. And yours?" indicating Shortie.

"Vermont, sir."

"And yours?"

"Near Philadelphia, sir," said Wheedles.

"All within twelve hours of New London, aren't they?"

"Yes sir."

"Very well; that settles it. You give us ten days at least, and we'll do the Regatta at New London and any other old thing worth doing. Will you wire your people that you're going with us? 'Orders from your superior officer.' Who knows but you may all hit my ship and in that case you may as well fall in at once."

"Well you better believe there'll be no kick—I beg your pardon sir—I mean, I'll be delighted," stammered Happy.

"That Western Union wire is going to fuse, sir," was Wheedles' characteristic response.

"I said last time I was up at New London that I'd be singed and sizzled if I ever went again, sir, and that just goes to show 'what fools we mortals be'," was Shortie's quizzical answer.

"Orders received and promptly obeyed. So far so good," was the hearty response. "Now to the next. Mrs. Howland, what about you and your plans! We've got this little girl in tow all tight and fast, but you haven't put out a signal."

"It all sounds most enticing, but do you know I have another girl to think about? She is up at Smith College and will graduate in one week. I must be there for THAT if I never do another thing. It is an event in her life and mine."

"Hum; yes; I see; of course. We've got to get around that, haven't we? And I dare say YOU two think you've got to be on deck also," he added, nodding at Constance and Snap, who in return nodded their reply in a very positive manner.

"Are you going to jump ship too, little captain?" he asked, turning suddenly to Polly.

"Oh please don't. We need you so much," pleaded Peggy.

"I'd like to see Gail graduate, but oh, I do want to go to New London just dreadfully," cried Polly.

"You would better go, dear," said Mrs. Howland, deciding the question for her. "You would have but three days at Northampton and they would hardly mean as much to you as the same number at New London. Constance, Snap and I will go up, and then perhaps we will come on to New London. I must first learn Gail's plans."

"You will ALL come up. Every last one of you, Gail too; and if Gail bears even a passing resemblance to the rest of her family she isn't going to disgrace it."

"She's perfectly lovely, Mr. Stewart," was Polly's emphatic praise of her pretty, twenty-year-old sister.

"Your word goes, captain," answered Mr. Stewart, crossing the room to where the girls sat upon the couch. "Gangway, please," he said, motioning them apart and seating himself between them. "My, but these are pretty snug quarters," he added, placing an arm around each and drawing them close to him. Peggy promptly nestled her head upon his shoulder.

"My other shoulder feels lonesome," said Mr. Stewart, smiling into Polly's face. The next second the bronze head was cuddled down also. "That's pretty nice. Best game of rouge et noir ever invented," nodded Neil Stewart, a happy smile upon his strong face. "Now to proceed: There are, thus far, eleven of us. When we capture Gail we shall have twelve. A round dozen. Good! Now how to get up there is the next question. I've hit it! Let's make an auto trip of it.''

"An auto trip," chorused the others.

"Sure thing! Why not? Look here, people, this is my holiday. Such a holiday as I haven't had in years, and at the end of it is something else for me. Harold knows, but he's been too wise to give it away. I didn't know it myself until I came through Washington, but—well—it's pretty good news. I didn't mean to blurt it out, but this is sort of a family conclave and I needn't ask you all to keep it in the family; but up there in the Boston Navy Yard is an old fighting machine of which I am to be captain when I get back in harness—"

"What! Oh, Daddy! Daddy! How splendid!" cried Peggy. "Oh, I've just got to hug you hard,'' and she smothered him in a regular bear hug.

"That's better than the promotion," he said, his eyes shining, and his thoughts harking back to another impulsive young girl who had clasped her arms about him when he received his commission as lieutenant. How like her Peggy was growing. It would have meant a good deal to her could she have lived to see him attain his captaincy. He always recalled her as a young girl. It was almost impossible for him to realize that were she now alive she would be Mrs. Harold's age, though she was considerably younger than himself when they had married.

And so it was settled. Neil Stewart was to engage a couple of large touring cars for a month and in these the party was to make the trip to New London. A man of prompt action, he lost no time in putting his plan into effect, and the following Wednesday a merry party set out from Wilmot Hall. Each car carried six comfortably in addition to the chauffeur.

Each was provided with everything necessary for the long trip which they calculated would take about three days, and the pairing off was arranged to every one's satisfaction, an arrangement known to have exceptions. Mr. and Mrs. Harold, Happy, Shortie and Polly and Peggy were in one car, Mr. Stewart, Mrs. Howland, Snap, Constance and Wheedles in the other, the extra seat, Mr. Stewart said was to be held in reserve for Gail when Mrs. Howland should bring her to New London.

None of the party ever forgot that auto ride through Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, New York and Connecticut. The weather was ideal, and for the men just ashore after months of sea-duty, and the midshipmen, just emancipated from four years of the strictest discipline and a most limited horizon, it was a most wonderful world of green things, and an endless panorama of beauty.

One night was spent in Philadelphia where all stopped at the Aldine and went to see "The Balkan Princess." Another night in New York at the Astor with "Excuse Me" to throw every one into hysterics of laughter.

And what a revelation it all was to Peggy. What a new world she had entered.

"I didn't know there could be anything like it," she confided to Polly, "and oh, isn't it splendid. But HOW I wish I could just share it with everybody."

"It seems to me you are sharing it with a good many bodies, Peggy Stewart. What do you call ten people besides yourself?"

"Oh, I mean people who never have or see anything like it. Like Nelly, for instance, and—and—oh just dozens of people who seem to go all their lives and never have any of the things which so many other people have. I wonder why it IS so, Polly? It doesn't seem just right, does it?"

"I wonder if you know how many people you make happy in the course of a year, Peggy Stewart. I don't believe you have the least idea, but it's a pity a few of them couldn't lift up their voices and make it known."

"Well, I'm right thankful they can't. It would be awful."

It was a glorious June afternoon when the two big touring cars swept under the porte-cochere of the Griswold Hotel at New London, and attendants hurried out to assist the new arrivals from them. Mr. Stewart waved them aside and saying to his guests:

"Wait here until I find out where that shack of ours is located and then we'll go right over to it and get fixed tip as soon as possible," he disappeared into the hotel to return a moment later with a clerk.

"This man will direct us," and presently the cars were rolling down toward the shore road. In five minutes they had stopped before a large bungalow situated far out on one of the rocky points commanding the entire sweep of the bay, and before them riding at anchor was the practice squadron, the good old flagship Olympia, on which Commodore Dewey had fought the battle of Manila Bay, standing bravely out from among her sister ships the Chicago, the Tonopah and the old frigate Hartford anchored along the roadstead.

"Oh, Peggy! Peggy! See them! See them! Don't you love them, every inch of them, from the fighting top to the very anchor chains? I do."

"I ought to," assented Peggy, "for Dad! loves his ship next to me I believe."

"How could he help it?"

They were now hurrying into the cottage where Jerome and Mammy were waiting to welcome them. A couple of servants had been sent over from the Griswold to complete the menage with Mammy and Jerome as commanders-in-chief.

It was a pretty cottage with a broad veranda running around three sides of it and built far out over the water on the front; an ideal spot for a month's outing.

Launches were darting to and from the ships with liberty parties, often with two or three cutters in tow filled with laughing, skylarking midshipmen. On the opposite shore where the old Pequoit House had once stood, was another landing at which many of the ships' boats, or shore boats, were also making landings with parties which had been out to visit the ships. The ships wore a festive air with awnings stretched above their quarter-decks and altogether it was an enchanting picture.

Mammy welcomed her family with enthusiasm, and Jerome with the ceremony he never omitted, and in less time than seemed possible all were settled in their spacious, airy rooms. Mr. and Mrs. Harold had a room looking out over the river, with the two girls next them, while Mrs. Howland, Mr. Stewart, Snap and Constance had rooms just beyond, the three boys being quartered on the floor above.

"Oh, Peggy, isn't it the dearest place you ever saw?" cried Polly, running out on the balcony upon which their room gave. "And there's the dear old flat-iron," the "flat-iron" being the name bestowed by the boys upon the monitor Tonopah because she set so low in the water and was shaped not unlike one, her turrets sticking up like bumpy handles.

"Look, Polly! Look! Some one is wigwagging on the bridge of the Olympia. Oh, Daddy Neil, Daddy Neil, come quickly and tell us what they are saying," she called into the next room.

Neil Stewart hurried out to the balcony, slightly lowering his eyelids as he would have done at sea, a little trick acquired by most men who look across the water.

"Why they are signalling US," he exclaimed. "That's Boynton on the bridge," mentioning an officer whom he knew, "and the chap signalling is—YOU—no, no I don't mean that, I mean it's the chap who ought to be you, that Devon, Deroux, no—Leroux—isn't that his name? The fellow who rigged up in girl's clothes and fooled me to a frazzle. He's saying— what's that? Hold on—Yes! 'Welcome to New London' and—'Coming on board.' THAT means that a whole bunch will descend upon us tonight I'll bet all I'm worth. Well, let 'em come! Let 'em come! The more the merrier for there's nothing amiss with the commissary department. Here, Happy, Happy, come and answer that signal out yonder. I'm rusty, but you ought to have it down pat."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Happy, appearing at the window overhead and by some miraculous means scrambling through it and letting himself drop to the balcony where Mr. Stewart and the girls were standing.

"Give me a towel, quick, Peggy."

Peggy rushed for a towel and a moment later the funny wigwag was answering:

"Come along. Delighted."

And that night the bungalow was filled to overflowing, for not only did the boys come, but several officers who had known Mr. Stewart and Mr. Harold for years were eager to renew their acquaintance, and talk over old days.

"And you've come just in time for the regatta. Going to be a big race this year. The men are up at Gales ferry now and look fit to a finish. How are you planning to see it?" asked the captain of the Olympia.

"Haven't planned a thing yet. Why we've only just struck our holding ground, man."

"Good, I'm glad of it. That fixes it all right. You are all to be my guests that day—yes—no protests. Rockhill has gone to Europe and left his launch at my service and she's a jim-dandy, let me tell you. She's a sixty-footer and goes through the water like a knife blade. You'll all come with me and we'll see the show from a private box."

"Can you carry ALL OF US?" asked Peggy incredulously.

"Every last one, little girl, and a dozen more if you like. So fly to the east and fly to the west and then invite the very one whom you love best," answered Captain Boynton, pinching Peggy's velvety cheek.

"Oh, there are so many we love best," she laughed, "that we'd never dare ask them all, would we, Polly?"

"Let's ask all who are here tonight," was Polly's diplomatic answer, "then no one can feel hurt."

"Hoopla!" rose from the other end of the porch where Durand, Ralph, and three of the other boys from the ships were sitting around a big bamboo table drinking lemonade.

And so the party was then and there arranged for New London's big day.



CHAPTER XV

REGATTA DAY

Peggy and Polly scrambled out of bed the morning of the Yale-Harvard crew race, to find all the world sparkling and cool with a stiff breeze from the Sound. It was a wonderful day and already the sight presented in the bay was enough to thrill the dullest soul. During the five days in which "Navy Bungalow," as it had been promptly named by the young people, had been occupied by the congenial party from Annapolis, old friendships had strengthened and new ones ripened, and a happier gathering of people beneath one roof it would have been hard to find. Perfect freedom was accorded every one, and the boys who had just graduated soon found their places with the older officers, for the transition, once the diploma is won, is a swift one. As passed midshipmen and "sure enough" junior officers, they had an established position impossible during their student days in the Academy.

The boys on the practice cruise also felt a greater degree of liberty, and the fact that they were the proteges of Commander Harold and Captain Stewart gave them an entree everywhere.

To Durand the experience was not a new one, for he had the faculty of winning an entree almost anywhere, but to Ralph and his roommate, Jean Paul Nicholas, as bright, merry a chap as ever looked frankly into one's face with a pair of the clearest, snappiest blue eyes ever seen, the world was an entirely new one and fairly overflowing with delightful experiences. Then, too, they were now youngsters instead of plebes, and this fact alone would have been almost enough to fill their cups with joy. The other boys who came from the ships had been second-classmen during the past year, but were now in all the glory of first-classmen, and doing their best to make good during the cruise in order to carry off some of the stripes waiting to be bestowed upon the efficient ones during the coming October.

In the two weeks spent with Mrs. Harold at Annapolis, Mrs. Howland had learned to love Peggy Stewart very dearly and Mrs. Harold said:

"Madeline, you have won more from Peggy Stewart than you realize. She has a rarely sweet character, though I am forced to admit that she seems to have been navigating uncharted waters. I have never known a girl of her age to live such an extraordinary life and why she is half as lovable, charming and possessed of so much character, is a problem I have been trying all winter to solve. But I rather dread the next few years for her unless some one both wise and affectionate takes that little clipper ship's helm. She is entirely beyond Harrison and Mammy now, and her father hasn't even a passing acquaintance with his only child. He THINKS he has, and he loves her devotedly, but there's more to Peggy Stewart in one hour than Neil Stewart will discover in years at the rate of two months out of twelve spent with her. I think the world of the child, but Polly is MY girl, and has slipped into Constance's place. I want you to let her stay with me, too. I have been so happy this winter, and she with me, but I wish there was someone to be in Peggy's home, or she could be sent to a good school for a year or two. Sometimes I think that would be the best arrangement in the long run."

Meanwhile Peggy was entirely unaware of the manner in which her future was being discussed and she and Polly were looking forward to regatta day with the liveliest anticipation.

As Peggy and Polly looked out over the bay and up the river that perfect morning Peggy cried:

"Oh, Polly COULD anything be lovelier than this day? The sky is like a blue canopy, not a cloud to be seen, the air just sets one nearly crazy, and that blue, sparkling water makes me long to dive head-first into it."

"Well, why not?" asked Polly. "It is only half past six and loads of time for a dip before breakfast. Let's get into our bathing suits, bang on the ceiling to wake up Happy, Shortie and Wheedles and make them stick their heads out of the window."

It did not take five minutes to carry the suggestion into effect and a golf stick thumping "reveille" under Wheedles' bed effectually brought him back from dreams of Annapolis. Rousing out the other two he stuck a tousled head out of his window to be hailed by two bonny little figures prancing excitedly upon the balcony beneath him.

"Hello, great god Sumnus," cried Polly, "Wake up! Oh, but you do look sleepy. Stir up the others. Peggy and I are going down for a dip before breakfast and to judge by your eyes they need the sand washed out of them."

"Awh! Whow! Oh," yawned Wheedles, striving vainly to keep his mouth closed and to get his eyes opened. Just then two other heads appeared.

"What's doing? House afire?" they asked.

"No, it's the other element—water," laughed Peggy. "Come and get into it. That's what we are going to do. You may think those pink and blue JACKETS you're wearing are the prettiest things in the world—WE know they are part of your graduation "trousseau," but bathing suits are in order just now. So put them on and hurry down."

"Bet your life," was chorused as the three tousled heads vanished.

The average midshipman's "shift" requires as a rule, about two minutes, and passed-middies are no exception. Before it seemed possible three bath-robed figures joined the girls, who had put their raincoats over their bathing suits, and all slipped down to the little beach in front of the cottage and struck out for the float anchored about fifty feet off shore.

What a sight the bay and river presented that morning. Hundreds of beautiful yachts, foregathered from every part of the world, for New London makes a wonderful showing Regatta week, and flying the flags of innumerable yacht clubs, were crowding the roadstead. A more inspiring sight it would be difficult to imagine. Just beyond the float, and lying between the Olympia and Navy Bungalow, the pretty little naptha launch on which Captain Stewart's party were to be Captain Boynton's guests, rode lightly at anchor, her bright work reflecting the sunlight, her awning a-flutter, her signal pennant waving bravely.

"I've GOT to play I'm a porpoise. I've simply GOT to. Come on, Wheedles, nothing else will work off my pent-up excitement," cried Polly, diving off the float to tumble and turn over and over in the water very like the fish she named, for Polly's training with Captain Pennell during the winter had made her almost as much at home in the water as on land and Peggy swam equally well.

While the young people were splashing about Mrs. Harold and Mrs. Howland came out on the piazza to enjoy the sight.

For half an hour the five splashed, dove, and gamboled as carefree as five young seals, and with as much freedom, then all hurried into the bathhouses where Mammy and Jerome had already anticipated their needs by hurrying down with a supply of necessary wearing apparel; a trifling matter quite overlooked by the bathers themselves.

A gayer, heartier, more glowing group of young people than those gathered at the breakfast table could not have been found in New London or anywhere else; certainly not at the Griswold where the majority of them were either satiated society girls whose winters had been spent in a mad social whirl, or the blase city youths who at nineteen had already found life "such a beastly bore."

"Gad," cried Neil Stewart, slapping Shortie's broad shoulders, "but it's refreshing to find fellows of your age who can still show up such a glow in their cheeks, and such a light in their eyes, and an enthusiasm so infectious that it sets a-tingle every drop of blood in an old kerfoozalem like me. Hang fast to it like grim death, for you'll never get it back if you once lose it. That old school down there turns out chaps who can get more out of the simple life than any bunch I know of. It may be the simple life in some respects, but it's got a confounded lot of hard work in it all the same, and when you've finished that you're ready to take your fun, and you take it just as hard as you take your work, and I don't want to see a better bunch of men than that system shows. I was over at the hotel last night, talking with four or five chaps, younger than you fellows here, and I swear it made me sick: Bored to extinction doing nothing. I'd like to take 'em on board for just about one month and if they didn't find something doing in a watch or two I'd know why. Keep right on having your fun, you and the girls— yes, GIRLS, not a lot of kids playing at being nerve-racked society women."

"Hear! Hear!" cried Glenn Harold. "What's stirred you up, old man?"

"That bunch over yonder. Keep a little girl as long as you can Peggy, and you, Polly, hold your present course. Who ever charted it for you knew navigation all right."

"I guess mother began it and then turned the job over to Aunt Janet, sir," answered Polly.

"Well, she knew her business all right. I'm mighty sorry she can't be here today to see the race, but when she comes back from Northampton she'll bring that other girl I'm so anxious to know too. By George, the Rowland crowd puts up a good showing, and they seem to know how to choose their messmates too, if I can judge by Hunter."

"Isn't he the dearest brother a girl ever had?" asked Polly enthusiastically, for her love for her brother-in-law was a subject of pleasurable comment to all who knew her.

"One of the best ever, as I hear on all sides," was Captain Stewart's satisfactory answer. "But here comes Boynton. Ahoy! Olympia Ahoy!" he shouted, hurrying out upon the piazza as a launch from the Olympia came boiling "four bells" toward Navy Bungalow's dock, the white clad Jackies looking particularly festive and Captain Boynton of the Olympia with Commander Star of the Chicago sitting aft. They waved their caps gaily and shouted in return.

"Glorious day! Great, isn't it?" as the launch ran alongside the dock and friends hurried down to meet friends.

"We came over to see how early you could be ready. We must get up the course in good season this afternoon in order to secure a vantage point. Mrs. Boynton wants you all—yes—the whole bunch, to come over to the Griswold for an early luncheon. Mrs. Star will be with her and we'll shove off right afterward. Now NO protests," as Captain Stewart seemed inclined to demur.

"All right. Your word goes. "We'll report for duty. What's the hour?"

"Twelve sharp. There's going to be an all-fired jam in that hotel but Mrs. B. has a private dining-room ready for us and has bribed the head waiter to a degree that has nearly proved my ruin. But never mind. We can't see the Yale-Harvard race every day, and a month hence we'll be up in Maine with all this fun behind us."

That luncheon was a jolly one. Captain Boynton had a daughter a little younger than Peggy and Mr. Star a little girl of eight.

Promptly at two the party went down to the Griswold dock, gay with excitement and a holiday crowd embarking in every sort of craft, all bound for the course up the river. The naptha launch had been run alongside the long Griswold pier and it did not take long for Captain Boynton's party to scramble aboard. Captain Boynton, Captain Stewart and the girls went forward, some of the boys making for the bow where the outlook was enough to stir older and far more staid souls than any the Frolic carried that day.

They cast off, and soon were making their fussy way in and out among the hundreds of launches, yachts and craft of every known description.

The crew of the Frolic was a picked one, the coxswain, an experienced hand, as was certainly required THAT day. The pretty launch was dressed in all her bunting, and flying the flag of her club.

Through the mass of festive shipping the launch worked her way, guided by the steady hand of the man at her wheel, his gray eyes alert for every move on port or starboard.

Peggy and Polly were close beside him. Captain Stewart and Captain Boynton stood a little behind watching the girls, whose eager eyes noted every turn of the wheel. An odd light came into Captain Boynton's eyes as he watched them. Presently he asked Peggy:

"Do you think you could handle a launch, little girl?"

"Why—perhaps I could—a little," answered Peggy modestly.

"Why, Peggy Stewart, there isn't a girl in Annapolis who can handle a launch or a sailboat as YOU do," cried Polly, aroused to emphatic protest.

Peggy blushed, and laughingly replied: "Only Polly Howland, the Annapolis Co-Ed."

"Eh? What's that?" asked Captain Boynton.

"Oh, Polly has had a regular course in seamanship, Captain Boynton, and knows just everything."

"Any more than YOU do, miss?" demanded Polly.

"Yes, lots," insisted Peggy.

"Well, I'll wager anything you could take this launch up the river as easily as the coxswain is doing it," was Polly's excited statement.

"How's that, Stewart? Have you been teaching your girl navigation?"

"I hadn't a thing to do with it. It's all due to the good friends who have been looking after her while I'VE been shooting up targets. But Polly's right. She CAN handle a craft and so can this little redhead," laughed Captain Stewart, pulling a lock of Polly's hair which the frolicsome wind had loosened.

"By Jove, let's test it. Not many girls can do that trick. Coxswain, turn over the wheel to this young lady, but stand by in case you're needed."

The coxswain looked a little doubtful, but answered: "Aye, aye, sir."

"Oh, ought I?" asked Peggy.

"Get busy, messmate," said Captain Boynton.

The next second the girl was transformed. Tossing her big hat aside and giving her hair a quick brush, she laid firm hold upon the wheel and instantly forgot all else. Her eyes narrowed to a focus which nothing escaped, and Stewart gave a little nod of gratified pride and stepped back a trifle to watch her. Captain Boynton's face showed his appreciation and Polly's was radiant. The old coxswain muttered: "Well, well, you get on to the trick of that, lassie. You might have served on a man-o-war."

They were now well out in the river and making straight for the railway bridge. Peggy alert and absorbed was watching the current as it swirled beneath the arches. "How does the tide set in that middle arch, coxswain?" she asked.

"Keep well to starboard, miss," he answered.

Peggy nodded, and gave an impatient little gesture as a lumbering power boat, outward bound seemed inclined to cut across her course. "What ails that blunderbuss? I have the right of way. Why doesn't he head inshore?" and she signalled sharply on her siren to the landlubber evidently bent upon running down everything in sight, and wrecking the tub he was navigating. Then with a quick motion she flicked over her wheel and rushed by, making as pretty a circle around him as the coxswain himself could have made. "Holy smoke, but ye have given him the go-by in better shape than I could myself. Whoever taught ye?"

"A navy captain down at Annapolis," answered Peggy, as she shot the launch beneath the bridge.

"Well, he did the job all right, all right, and I may as well go back and sit down. Faith, I thought we were as good as stove in when I handed over the wheel to ye, but I'm thinking I can learn a fancy touch or two myself."

"Oh, no, don't go. I don't know the river, you know, though I want to do my best just to make Daddy proud of me," answered Peggy modestly.

"Well then he should be a-yellin' like them crazy loons yonder on the observation train—that's what he should," nodded the coxswain.

Neil Stewart was not yelling, but he wasn't missing a thing, and presently Peggy ran the launch into a clear bit of water near the three- mile flag.

Bringing her around, she issued her orders, her mind too intent upon the business in hand to be conscious that all on the launch had been watching her with absorbing interest. Anchors were thrown over fore and aft in order to hold the launch steady against the current, then turning the wheel over to the admiring coxswain, Peggy wiped her hands upon her handkerchief and holding out her right one to Captain Boynton, said:

"Thank you so much for letting me try. It was perfectly glorious to feel her respond to every touch and thread her way through all that ruck."