“Jes’ a gurl!  Jes’ a gurl,” sputtered Jerome.  “Kyant yo’ just give her a hint dat yo’s a yo’ng lady and we-all’s mistiss?”

“’Fraid not, Jerome.  She will have to learn that when she comes out here to see Silver Star, if she really comes.  I’d let her have Columbine if she were not sold.  If that girl, who ever she is, could not ride Columbine she would fall out of a rocking chair.  But Star is a darling and never cuts pranks unless Shashai sets him a bad example.  I fear Shashai will never forget his colt tricks,” and Shashai’s mistress wagged her pretty head doubtfully.

“Shas’ee’s all right, Miss Peggy.  Don’ yo’ go fer ter ’line him.  When I sees yo’ two a kitin’ way over de fiel’s an’ de fences, I says ter ma sef, Gawd-a-mighty, Je’ome, yo’s got one pintedly hansome yo’ng mistess an’ she kin ride for fair.”

“And that same young mistress is in a fair way to be spoiled by your flattery that is pretty certain,” laughed Peggy, rising from the breakfast table and gathering up the pile of letters she had been reading.

“Huh, Huh.  Spiled nothin’,” protested Jerome as she disappeared into the adjoining library.

Seating herself at her very business-like desk she wrote in a clear, angular hand: 

Severndale, Round Bay Station. 
October 20, 19—­

Mrs. G. F. Harold,
Wilmot Hall,
Annapolis, Md.

Dear Madam: 

Your favor of October eighteenth has been duly received and contents noted.  In reply would say that I shall be very glad to have you call and inspect our stock.

We have one colt, a four-year old, sired by the Emperor, dam the Empress, which I shall be glad to show you.  There are also others, but I am considering pedigree, disposition and gait since you state that you wish a horse for an inexperienced rider.

Would suggest that you run out to Round Bay Station, via B. A. Short Line R. R. on Saturday, October the twenty-third, 1.30 P. M. weather permitting, where I shall meet and convey you to Severndale.

Awaiting your pleasure I am

Very truly yours,

Margaret C. Stewart

How little it often requires to change our whole future.  Little did Peggy guess as she wrote that letter in Dr. Llewellyn’s most approved form, that it was destined to entirely revolutionize her life, introduce her to a hitherto unknown world and round out her future in a manner beyond the fondest hopes of “Daddy Neil.”

This is a big world of little things.

The letter went upon its way and in the course of the morning Peggy almost forgot it.

At ten o’clock Dr. Llewellyn came for the regular morning lessons.  If these were a little unusual for a girl of Peggy’s age she was certainly none the worse for her very practical knowledge of mathematics, her ability to conduct correctly the business side of the estate, for upon this, as the business manager, good Dr. Llewellyn insisted, and if that bonny, well-poised, level little head sometimes grew weary over investments, and interest, and profits and losses, and nestled down confidingly upon his shoulder, the subjects were none the less fully digested, and Peggy knew to a dollar, as he did, whence her income was derived and to what use it was put.