Then
she looked poor Felicity over critically. "You're good-looking
but proud. And your complexion won't wear. It'll be like your
ma's yet--too much red in it."
"Well, that's better than being the colour of mud," muttered
Peter, who wasn't going to hear his lady traduced, even by a
witch. All the thanks he got was a furious look from Felicity,
but Peg had not heard him and now she turned her attention to
Cecily.
"You look delicate. I daresay you'll never live to grow up."
Cecily's lip trembled and Dan's face turned crimson.
"Shut up," he said to Peg. "You've no business to say such things
to people."
I think my jaw dropped. I know Peter's and Felix's did. Felicity
broke in wildly.
"Oh, don't mind him, Miss Bowen. He's got SUCH a temper--that's
just the way he talks to us all at home. PLEASE excuse him."
"Bless you, I don't mind him," said Peg, from whom the unexpected
seemed to be the thing to expect. "I like a lad of spurrit. And
so your father run away, did he, Peter? He used to be a beau of
mine--he seen me home three times from singing school when we was
young. Some folks said he did it for a dare. There's such a lot
of jealousy in the world, ain't there? Do you know where he is
now?"
"No," said Peter.
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