"Please 'm," she said to Helen, as soon as she could get a chance, "I've made two acquaintances this arternoon—an old man and a fellow-girl, who is a servant. And, please 'm, I should like to see 'em both agen, and my fellow-girl and myself intends to be friends. I h'aint got a friend here, for no one keeps servants in the village, 'cept the Rectory, and they do seem so grand up there. I hope you don't h'object and I thought I'd ask you if I could have Ellen to tea once in my kitching. I wouldn't ask you 'm to give her tea, but I'll manage and half mine with her. I'll eat extry at dinner to make up, and she won't take no notice if I don't seem to have the appetite for my food!" Peggy paused for breath. "I shall be glad for you to have a friend," Helen replied, "if she is a good, steady girl, but I should like to know about her first. She is Mrs. Webster's servant, I suppose?" "Yes 'm. She seems a very nice girl 'm; o' course I dessay I could learn her a few things. She don't wear no caps, but then she ain't with real ladies. But if she ain't what I like 'm, when I gets to know her, I'll learn her to be different, and if she won't be, well, I'll give her up!" Helen smiled, as she generally did when Peggy held forth. But the friendship was formed, and Peggy and Ellen exchanged visits, and walked out occasionally together. "I would give a good deal to hear their conversation," said Joyce one afternoon to her sister when Ellen had come to tea in the kitchen. "Peggy's tongue never ceases; what does she find to talk about?" If she could have heard them, this was what Peggy was saying— "So you see, Ellen, I made up my mind then and there when the gentleman spoke that I would be a missionary when I was growed-up." "But," said Ellen, with round eyes, "you want to be eddicated, don't yer? And how are you to get over the seas? And what will yer do when yer gets there?" "Oh, that 'll all come very easy," said Peggy loftily. "You has to make up yer mind that you is goin', first thing; same as I did about goin' into service. Then yer has to set to work to get yer clo's, same's I did too. But my Miss Helen told me, 'tis very hot where the heathen live, and they don't wear much clo's, not to speak of. So I dessay I shall do fine. P'raps three cotton dresses, and a hat would last quite a long time—and no jacket, you see—that 'ud save wonderful." "But what would you do when you got there?" persisted Ellen. "I'd have my Bible under my arm," said Peggy solemnly, "and I'd tell 'em all to come round me, very quiet like. I wouldn't have no pushin' or fightin'. And then I'd read 'em about Jesus." "And nothin' else?" "Well," said Peggy, considering, "I think I'd tell 'em very distinckly that Jesus died to let 'em go to heaven. I'd tell 'em He loved 'em, and they must be good, and He'd help 'em if they arsked Him, same as He does me." "And then what?"