"
"Very well, Margaret, I will. Good night." And feeling the matter
was closed, Ethel again turned away to leave the room.
"Will ye give me another minnit--NOW--PLEASE," called Peg, after
her, excitedly.
Ethel looked at the letter in her hand, hesitated, then re-entered
the room and went down to Peg and said gently:
"All right"
"Only just a minnit," repeated Peg, breathlessly.
"What do you want, Margaret?"
"I want ye to tell me somethin'."
"What is it?"
Peg paused--looked at Ethel bashfully--dropped her eyes to the
ground--took a deep breath--then said as fast as she could speak:
"Do ye know anything about--about LOVE?"
"Love?" echoed Ethel, very much astonished.
"Yes," said Peg. "Have ye ever been in love?" and she wanted
expectantly for Ethel's answer.
Ethel put the letter she had just written to Mr. Brent slowly behind
her back and answered coldly:
"No. I have not."
"Have ye ever THOUGHT about it?"
"Yes."
"WHAT do ye think about it?" questioned Peg eagerly.
"Rot!" replied Ethel, decidedly.
"ROT? ROT?" cried Peg, unable to believe her ears.
"Sentimental nonsense that only exists in novels."
"Ye're wrong!" insisted the anxious Peg; "ye're wrong. It's the most
wondherful thing in the wurrld!"
Ethel brought the letter up to her eyes and read the superscription.
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