There came a husky little moan out of its depths, as he whispered, “Daughter!” He groped his way to her, and sitting down on a trunk, folded her into his bearskin coat.

“Now tell father all about it,” he said.  And it all came out with many sobs—­the nights and dawns with Minna, the Latin, the sleighing, Esther’s party, breakfast, the weariness, the headache; and last the waffles, which had moved the one unbearable thing.

“And it is so mean of me, so mean of me!” sobbed Peggy.  “But, oh, daddy, I do want a vacation!”

“And you shall have one,” he answered.

He carried her straight into her own room, laid her down on her own bed, and tumbled Hazen’s things into the hall.  Then he went downstairs and talked to his family.

Presently the mother came stealing in. bearing a glass of medicine the doctor-father had sent.  Then she undressed Peggy and put her to bed as if she had been a baby, and sat by, smoothing her hair, until she fell asleep.

It seemed to Peggy that she had slept a long, long time.  The sun was shining bright.  Her door opened a crack and Arna peeped in, and seeing her awake, came to the bed and kissed her good morning.

“I’m so sorry, little sister!” she said.

“Sorry for what?” asked the wondering Peggy.

“Because I didn’t see,” said Arna.  “But now I’m going to bring up your breakfast.”

“Oh, no!” cried Peggy, sitting up.

“Oh, yes!” said Arna, with quiet authority.  It was as dainty cooking as Peggy’s own, and Arna sat by to watch her eat.

“You’re so good to me, Arna!” said Peggy.

“Not very,” answered Arna, dryly.  “When you’ve finished this you must lie up here away from the children and read.”

“But who will take care of Minna?” questioned Peggy.

“Minna’s mamma,” answered a voice from the next room, where Mabel was pounding pillows.  She came to the door to look in on Peggy in all her luxury of orange marmalade to eat, Christmas books to read, and Arna to wait upon her.

“I think mothers, not aunts, were meant to look after babies,” said Mabel.  “I’m so sorry, dear!”

“Oh, I wish you two wouldn’t talk like that!” cried Peggy.  “I’m so ashamed.”

“All right, we’ll stop talking,” said Mabel quickly, “but we’ll remember.”

They would not let Peggy lift her hand to any of the work that day.  Mabel managed the babies masterfully.  Arna moved quietly about, accomplishing wonders.

“But aren’t you tired, Arna?” queried Peggy.

“Not a bit of it, and I’ll have time to help you with your Caesar before—­”

“Before what?” asked Peggy, but got no answer.  They had been translating famously, when, in the late afternoon, there came a ring of the doorbell.  Peggy found Hazen bowing low, and craving “Mistress Peggy’s company.”  A sleigh and two prancing horses stood at the gate.

It was a glorious drive.  Peggy’s eyes danced and her laugh rang out at Hazen’s drolleries.  The world stretched white all about them, and their horses flew on and on like the wind.  They rode till dark, then turned back to the village, twinkling with lights.