Three Margarets

by Laura Elizabeth Howe Richards

  CHAPTER V.

  THE PEAT-BOG.

  It was a great relief to Margaret to carry her perplexities to AuntFaith and talk them over. Mrs. Cheriton's mind and sympathies were asquick and alert as if she were still a young woman, instead of beingnear the rounding of the completed century. She listened with kindlyinterest, and her wise and tender words cleared away many of the cobwebsof anxiety that beset Margaret's sky.

  "Let patience have her perfect work!" she was fond of saying. "Neitherof these children is to be led by precept, I think. Make your own ways,ways of pleasantness as well as paths of peace, and soon or late theywill fall into them. You cannot expect to do much in a week, or twoweeks, or three weeks. Or it may be," she would add, "that you are notto do it after all; it may be that other things and persons will becalled in. The ordering is wise, but we cannot often understand it, forit is written in cipher. Do you only the best you can, my child, andkeep your own head steady, and you will find the others settling intoharness before long."

  "It distresses me," Margaret said, "to have Rita so rude to theservants. I cannot speak to her about that, I suppose; but it is reallytoo bad. Elizabeth is so sensible, I am sure she understands how it allis; but--well, the gardener, Aunt Faith! John Strong! Why, any one cansee that he is an uncommon man; not the least an ordinary labouring man.Do you know how much he knows?"

  Mrs. Cheriton nodded. "John Strong is a very remarkable man," she said;"you are right there, Margaret. And Rita is uncivil to him? Do you know,I should not trouble myself about that if I were you. If Elizabeth canunderstand that Rita has been brought up without learning any respectfor the dignity of labour, John Strong will understand it twice as well,for he has more than twice the intelligence."

  "Thank you, Aunt Faith! You are so comforting! He--he has been here along time, has he not? I should think my uncle must have greatconfidence in him; and he has such beautiful manners!"

  "His manners," said Mrs. Cheriton emphatically, "are perfect." Then shesaid, changing the subject rather hastily, "And where are the two othergirls to-day, my dear? They do not incline to come to me often, Iperceive. It is not strange; many very young people dislike the sight ofextreme age; you have been taught differently, my dear,--Roger Montfortwas always a thoughtful, sensible lad, like John. No, I do not blamethem in the least for keeping away, but I like to know what they aredoing."

  "I--I don't really know, just now," and Margaret hung her head a little;"Peggy wanted me to go to walk with her an hour or so ago, but I wasjust reading a book that Papa had always told me about,--'The Fool ofQuality,' you know it?--and I did not want to leave it. I ought to havegone; I will go now, and see where they both are. Dear Aunt Faith, thankyou so much for letting me come and talk to you; you can't think what arelief it is when I am puzzled."

  The old lady's sweet smile lingered like a benediction with Margaret, asshe went back to the main house, carefully closing the door that shutoff the white rooms. Surely she had been selfish to stay indoors with abook, instead of going out with her cousin; but oh, the book understoodher so much better, and was so much more companionable! Now, however,she would be good, and would go and see what both the cousins weredoing. They were not together, of course; Rita was very likely asleep atthis hour; but Peggy, what had Peggy been doing?

  What had Peggy been doing?

  She had sauntered out rather disconsolately, on Margaret's refusing toaccompany her. She was so used to being one of a large, shouting,struggling family, that she felt, perhaps more than any of the threegirls, the retirement and quiet of Fernley. She wanted to run and screamand make a noise, but there was no fun in doing it alone. If Jean wereonly here!

  She went through the garden, and found some consolation in a talk withJohn Strong, who, always the pink of courtesy, leaned on his hoe, andtold her many valuable things concerning the late planting. Herquestions were shrewd and intelligent, for Peggy had not lived on a farmfor nothing, and she already knew more about the possibilities ofFernley than Margaret or Rita would learn in a year.

  "Where shall I go for a walk?" she asked, when John Strong showed signsof thinking about his work again. "I hate to go alone, but no one wouldcome with me. I have been over the hill and into the oak woods. What isanother nice way to go, where there will be strawberries?"

  John Strong considered. "About two miles from here, miss, you'll find avery pretty strawberry patch. Go through the oak woods and along besidethe bog; but be careful not to step into the bog itself, for it is atreacherous bit."

  "What kind of a bog? Why don't you drain it?" asked Peggy.

  "It is a peat-bog," returned the gardener. "It would be a very costlymatter to drain it, but I believe Mr. Montfort is thinking of it, miss.A short way beyond the woods you'll come upon the strawberry meadow; itis the best I know of hereabouts. Good morning, miss."

  Off went Peggy, swinging her hat by the ribbon, a loop of which wascoming off, and thinking of home and of Jean, her most intimate sister.She loved Margaret dearly already, but one had always to be on one'sgood behaviour with her, she was so good herself. Oh, how delightful itwould be to have Jean here, and to have a race through the woods, andthen a good, jolly romp, and perhaps a "spat," before they settled downto the business of strawberry-picking! She could have spats enough withthat horrid, spiteful Cuban girl, but there was no fun in those; justcold, sneering hatefulness. Thinking of her cousin Rita, Peggy gave herhat a twist and a fling, and sent it flying across the green meadow onwhich she was now entering.

  "There!" she said, "I just wish that was you, Miss Rita,--I do! Iwouldn't help you up, either."

  Then, rather ashamed of her outburst, she went to pick up the hat again;but, setting foot on the edge of the green meadow, she drew it backhastily.

  "Aha!" said Peggy. "The peat-bog! _Now_ I've been and gone and done it!"

  She whistled, a long, clear whistle that would have done credit to anyone of her brothers, and gazed ruefully at the hat, which lay out ofreach, resting quietly on the smooth emerald velvet of the quaking bog.

  "Oh, bother! Now I suppose I shall have to fish the old thing out. Itwill never look fit to be seen again, and Margaret retrimmed it only theother day. Well, here goes!"

  Looking about carefully, Peggy pulled a long bulrush from a clump thatgrew at the side of the bog. Then she walked along the edge, skirtingwith care the deceitful green that looked so fair and lovely, till shecame to where a slender birch hung its long drooping branches out overthe bog. Clinging to one of these branches, Peggy leaned forward as faras she dared, and began to angle for her hat. "He rises well," shemuttered, "but he doesn't bite worth a cent."

  Twice she succeeded in working the end of the bulrush through the loopof ribbon that perked cheerfully on the top of the hat; twice the loopslipped off as she raised it, and the hat dropped back. The third time,however, was successful, and the skilful angler had the satisfaction ofdrawing the hat toward her, and finally rescuing it from its perilousposition. Not all of it, however; the flower, the yellow rose, oncePeggy's pride and joy, had become loosened during the variousunaccustomed motions of its parent hat, and now lay, lonely and lovely,a golden spot on the bright green grass. Peggy fished again, but thistime in vain; and finally she was obliged to give it up, and go offflowerless in search of her strawberries.

  Meanwhile, Margaret had been searching high and low for Peggy. JohnStrong could have told her where she was, but he had gone to a distantpart of the farm, and no one had seen the two talking together.

  "A search for Calibana?" said Rita, when her cousin inquired for thewanderer. "My faith, why? If she can remain hidden for a time,Marguerite, consider the boon it would be!"

  PEGGY AT THE BOG.]

  But Margaret turned from her impatiently, seeing which, Rita wasjealous, and said, "I had hoped you would take a walk with me, _macousine_. I perish for air! I cannot go alone through these places,--Imight meet a dog."

  Margaret could not help laughing.

  "I think you might," she said. "And what the
n?"

  "I should die!" said Rita simply. Then, linking her arm in her cousin'swith her most caressing gesture, she said, "Come with me, _alma mia_. Wewalk,--very likely we find La Calibana on our way. She cannot havestrayed far, it is too near dinner-time; and she has a clock inside her;you know it well, Marguerite."

  Margaret could not refuse the offered company, and they set out in thesame direction that Peggy had taken. Margaret had been in the oak woodsseveral times with Peggy, and thought she might very likely find herthere; but no one answered her call; only the trees rustled, and thehermit-thrush called in answer, deep in some thicket far away.Presently, as they walked, there shot through the dark oak branches asunny gleam, a flash of green and gold. They pressed forward, and inanother moment stood on the edge of the quaking bog. But they had notbeen warned; neither had they Peggy's practised eye, which would havetold her even without the warning that this was no safe place.

  "Oh, what a lovely meadow!" cried Margaret. "I always wondered what laybeyond these woods, but have never come so far before. Shall we crossit, Rita? or does it look a little damp, do you think?"

  "It may be damp," said Rita indifferently. "I care not for damp, _treschere_. Let us cross, by all means. And look! see the golden flower;what can it be?"

  "I don't know, I am sure!" said Margaret, gazing innocently at theyellow muslin rose which had been under her hands only the day before."It looks--I don't know what it looks like, Rita. But I am afraid thegrass is very wet. Don't you see the wet shining through?"

  "Pouf!" said Rita. "Wait thou here, faint heart, while I bring theflower; that, at least, I must do, even if we go no further."

  She stepped over the grass so lightly and quickly that she had gone somesteps before her feet began to sink in the black, oozy bog. Margaretsaw the water bubbling up behind her, and cried to her in alarm to comeback; and Rita, finding the earth plucking at her feet, turned willinglytoward the solid ground; but return was impossible. She tried to lifther feet, but the bog held them fast, and with the effort, she feltherself sinking, slowly but surely.

  "Ah," she cried, "it is bad ground! It is a pit, Marguerite! Do notmove, do not come near me! Run and get help!" For Margaret was alreadystepping forward with outstretched hands.

  "Stop where you are!" cried Rita imperiously. "Do you not see that ifyou come in, we are both lost? I tell you there is no ground here, nobottom! I sink, I feel it sucking me down, down! Ah, _Madre_! go,Marguerite, fly for help!"

  Poor Margaret turned in distraction. Whither should she fly? They weremore than a mile from home. How could she leave her cousin in thisdreadful plight? Before help could come, she might be lost indeed, drawnbodily under by the treacherous ooze. She turned away, but came runningback suddenly, for she heard a sound coming from the opposite direction,a cheerful whistle.

  "Oh, Rita!" she cried; "help is near. I hear some one whistling, a boyor a man. Oh, help! help! Come this way, please!"

  The whistle changed to a cry of surprise, uttered in a familiar voice.The next minute, Peggy came running through the wood, her hands and facered with strawberry juice.

  Margaret could only gasp, and point to Rita, for her heart seemed to diewithin her when she saw that the newcomer was only a girl likeherself,--only poor, awkward Peggy.

  They were no better off than before, save that now one could go forhelp, while the other could stay to cheer poor Rita. Rita was now deadlywhite; she had ceased to call. The black ooze had crept to her knees,and she no longer made any effort to extricate herself. Margaret wasturning to run again, but Peggy stopped her. "Stand still!" she said."I'll get her out."

  Ah, poor, awkward, ill-dressed Peggy, your hour has come now! Not fornothing were you brought up on a prairie, your eyes trained toquickness, your arms strong as steel, your wits ever on the alert wherethere is danger! Poor Peggy, this is your hour, and the haughty beautyand the gentle student must own you their superior.

  Peggy cast a keen glance around; she was looking for something. Spying astout stake that had been broken off and was lying on the ground, shecaught it up, and the next moment had thrown herself flat on her face.Lying flat, she began slowly and cautiously to wriggle out across thesurface of the quaking bog. The black water seethed and bubbled underher; but her weight, evenly distributed, did not bear on any one spotheavily enough to press her down. Slowly, carefully, she worked her wayout, while the other girls held their breath and dared not speak. Once,indeed, Rita moaned, and cried, "No, no, one is enough! Go back! Icannot let you come!"

  But Margaret had seen that in Peggy's eyes and mien which kept hersilent. She stood trembling, with clasped hands, praying for both. Shecould do no more.

  "Lie down now, Rita!" Peggy commanded. "Lie flat, just as I am! Stretchout your arms,--so! Now, catch hold!"

  Rita obeyed to the point. It was terrible to lie down in that awfulblack slough that was to be her grave, perhaps, but she obeyed without aword. Stretching her arms as far as they would go, she touched the endof the stake,--touched, grasped, held fast; and now Peggy, still holdingfast to her end, began to wriggle back, slowly, cautiously, moving byinches.

  "Kneel down on the edge, Margaret!" she said; "don't come over, butreach out and give us a haul in when you can touch. It's getting prettydeep here!"

  Margaret knelt and reached out her arms; could she touch them? Peggy wassinking now, but she still moved backward, dragging Rita with her; theywere close by,--she had hold of Peggy's skirt. The stout gathersheld,--which was a miracle, Peggy said afterward,--and the next momentall three girls were sitting on the safe, dry ground, crying and holdingeach other tight.