Anne shook her head.

“Daddy, how did you know me before I was born?”

“Peggy, you’re a little tease.”

“You brought it on yourself, my dear.  Peggy, if you’ll leave off teasing daddy, I’ll tell you a story.”

“Oh!—­”

“Once upon a time” (Anne’s voice was very low) “mummy had a dream.  She dreamed she was in this wood, walking along that little path—­just there—­not thinking of Peggy.  And when she came to this tree she saw an angel, with big white wings.  He was lying under this very tree, on this very bit of grass, just there, where daddy’s sitting.  And one of his wings was stretched out on the grass, and it was hollow like a cradle.  It was all lined with little feathers, like the inside of a swan’s wing, as soft as soft.  And the other wing was stretched over it like the top of a cradle.  And inside, all among the soft little feathers, there was a little baby girl lying, just like Peggy.”

“Oh, mummy, was it me?”

“Sh—­sh—­sh!  Whoever it was, the angel saw that mummy loved it, and wanted it very much—­”

“The little baby girl?”

“Yes.  And so he took the baby and gave it to mummy, to be her own little girl.  That’s how Peggy came to mummy.”

“And did he give it to daddy, too, to be his little girl?”

“Yes,” said Majendie, “I was wondering where I came in.”

“Yes.  He gave it to daddy to be his little girl, too.”

“I’m glad he gave me to daddy.  The angel brought me to you in the night, like daddy brought me my big dolly.  You did bring my big dolly, and put her on my bed, didn’t you, daddy?  Last night?”

Majendie was silent.

“Daddy wasn’t at home last night, Peggy.”

“Oh, daddy, where were you?”

Majendie felt his forehead getting damp again.

“Daddy was away on business.”

“Oh, mummy, don’t you wish he’d never go away?”

“I think it’s time for lunch,” said Majendie.

They ate their lunch; and when it was ended, Majendie went to the cottage to find water, for Peggy was thirsty.  He returned, carrying water in a pitcher, and followed by a red-cheeked, rosy little girl who brought milk in a cup for Peggy.

Anne remembered the cup.  It was the same cup that she had drunk from after her husband.  And the child was the same child whom he had found sitting in the grass, whom he had shown to her and taken from her arms, whose little body, held close to hers, had unsealed in her the first springs of her maternal passion.  It all came back to her.

The little girl beamed on Peggy with a face like a small red sun, and Peggy conceived a sudden yearning for her companionship.  It seemed that, at the cottage, there were rabbits, and a new baby, and a litter of puppies three days old.  And all these wonders the little girl offered to show to Peggy, if Peggy would go with her.

Peggy begged, and went through the wood, hand in hand with the little beaming girl.  Majendie and Anne watched them out of sight.