Peggy Stewart: Navy Girl at Home
Jackson, Gabrielle E.
English
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PEGGY STEWART
NAVY GIRL
AT HOME
BY
GABRIELLE E. JACKSON
AUTHOR OF "SILVER HEELS," "THREE GRACES"
SERIES, "CAPT. POLLY" SERIES, ETC.
WITH FRONTISPIECE BY
NORMAN ROCKWELL
1920
THIS LITTLE STORY OF ANNAPOLIS IS
MOST AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED TO
H.W.H.
WHOSE SUNNY SOUL AND CHEERY
VOICE HELPED TO MAKE MANY AN
HOUR HAPPY FOR THE ONE HE CALLED
"LITTLE MOTHER"
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. SPRINGTIDE
II. THE EMPRESS
III. "DADDY NEIL"
IV. IN OCTOBER'S DAYS
V. POLLY HOWLAND
VI. A FRIENDSHIP BEGINS
VII. PEGGY STEWART: CHATELAINE
VIII. A SHOCKING DEMONSTRATION OF INTEMPERANCE
IX. DUNMORE'S LAST CHRISTMAS
X. A DOMESTIC EPISODE
XI. PLAYING GOOD SAMARITAN
XII. THE SPICE OF PEPPER AND SALT
XIII. THE MASQUERADERS' SHOW
XIV. OFF FOR NEW LONDON
XV. REGATTA DAY
XVI. THE RACE
XVII. SHADOWS CAST BEFORE
XVIII. YOU'VE SPOILED THEIR TEA PARTY
XIX. BACK AT SEVERNDALE
CHAPTER I
SPRINGTIDE
"Peggy, Maggie, Mag, Margaret, Marguerite, Muggins. Hum! Half a dozen of
them. Wonder if there are any more? Yes, there's Peggoty and Peg, to say
nothing of Margaretta, Gretchen, Meta, Margarita, Keta, Madge. My
goodness! Is there any end to my nicknames? I mistrust I'm a very
commonplace mortal. I wonder if other girls' names can be twisted around
into as many picture puzzles as mine can? What do YOU think about it
Shashai!" [Footnote: Shashai. Hebrew for noble, pronounced Shash'a-ai.]
and the girl reached up both arms to draw down into their embrace the
silky head of a superb young colt which stood close beside her; a
creature which would have made any horse-lover stop stock-still and
exclaim at sight of him. He was a magnificent two-year-old Kentuckian,
faultless as to his points, with a head to set an artist rhapsodizing
and a-tingle to put it upon his canvas. His coat, mane and tail were
black as midnight and glossy as satin. The great, lustrous eyes held a
living fire, the delicate nostrils were a-quiver every moment, the
faultlessly curved ears alert as a wild creature's. And he WAS half
wild, for never had saddle rested upon his back, girth encircled him or
bit fretted the sensitive mouth. A halter thus far in his career had
been his only badge of bondage and the girl caressing him had been the
one to put it upon him. It would have been a bad quarter of an hour for
any other person attempting it. But she was his "familiar," though far
from being his evil genius. On the contrary, she was his presiding
spirit of good.
Just now, as the splendid head nestled confidingly in her circling arms,
she was whispering softly into one velvety ear, oh, so velvety! as it
rested against her ripe, red lips, so soft, so perfect in their molding.
The ear moved slightly back and forth, speaking its silent language. The
nostrils emitted the faintest bubbling acknowledgment of the whispered
words. The beautiful eyes were so expressive in their intelligent
comprehension.
"Too many cooks spoil the broth, Shashai. Too many grooms can spoil a
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