"Well, in all reverence, I wish He'd show it before I leave, for I tell
you I don't like the idea of going away and leaving that little girl
utterly unprotected."

"I should call her very well protected," said Dr. Llewellyn mildly.

"Oh, yes, in a way. You are here off and on, and the servants all the
time, but look at the life she leads, man. Not a girl friend. Nothing
that other girls have. I tell you it's bad navigating and she'll run
afoul rocks or shoals. It isn't natural. For the Lord's sake DO
something. If I could be here a month longer I'd start something or
burst everything wide open. It's simply got to be changed." And Neil
Stewart got up from his big East India chair to pace impatiently up and
down the broad piazza, now and again giving an absent-minded kick to a
hassock, or picking up a sofa pillow to heave it upon a settee, as
though clearing the deck for action. He was deeply perturbed.

Peggy glanced toward him, and quick to notice signs of mental
disturbance, left her charge to Tzaritza's care and came running toward
the piazza. As she ran up the four steps giving upon the lawn she asked
half laughingly, half seriously:

"Heavy weather, Daddy Neil? Barometer falling?"

Neil Stewart paused, looked at her a moment and asked abruptly:

"Peggy, how would you like to go to a boarding school?"

"To boarding school!" exclaimed Peggy in amazement. "Leave Severndale
and all this and go away to a SCHOOL?" The emphasis upon the last word