“Oh, Tom, the masther would like ye to clane out the boat for’m when ye can find the time.”
“Did he say so, Peggy?”
“Sure, he tould me not to tell ye, wid all the extra work ye’ve got; but he only wished it could be done.”
“Then I’ll set to work this minute.”
“An’ ye won’t be tellin’ ’m I tould ye?”
“No, I’ll take all the credit if you like,” said Tom, in a voice and with a face which he took no pains to discipline for Peggy’s benefit. Both supported her theory and hardened her in her plot. And as he reached the boat-shed she was knocking at Miss Harding’s door.
“Askin’ yer pardon, miss, I think I know what would be betther for you than lyin’ down up here!”
“What is that?”
“Lyin’ in a hammock by the say.”
“It sounds pleasant. Thank you very much; but I think I’ll stay where I am.”
“Sure, ye’d find one in the boat-shed, an’ it’s all the good the air would do ye!”
“You are very kind,” said Claire wearily; “but who would put the hammock up?”
“Masther’s gone to Sydney,” said Peggy reflectively, “and he won’t have me meddlin’ wid such things. Wait till I tell ye, miss! Go this minute, an’ you’ll find Thomas in the boat-shed clanin’ the boat; he’ll have ’t up in a twinkle!”
“Well, I’ll see.”
Claire had coloured.
“Will I tell ’m, miss?”
“No! I’ll see. I think I would rather be where I am.”
