Peggy looked meek, and went to her room at once to obey orders; but the mischief was done--she shivered, and could not get warm, her head ached, and her eyes felt heavy. Mrs Asplin looked anxiously at her in the drawing-room after dinner, and finally called her to her side. "Peggy, come here! Aren't you well? Let me feel your hand. Child, it's like a coal! You are in a fever. Why didn't you tell me at once?" "Because I--really, it's nothing, Mrs Asplin! Don't be worried. I don't know why I feel so hot. I was shivering only a minute ago." "Go straight upstairs and take a dose of ammoniated quinine. Turn on the fire in your room. Max! Robert! Oswald! Esther! Mellicent! will everyone please look after Peggy in the future, and see that she does not run out in her slippers!" cried Mrs Asplin in a despairing voice; and Peggy bolted out of the door, in haste to escape before more reproaches could be hurled at her head. But an alarm of a more serious nature than a threatened cold was to take place before the evening was over. The young people answered briefly, Mrs Asplin turned back to her book, and silence settled down upon the occupants of the drawing-room. It was half-past eight, the servants had carried away the dinner things, and were enjoying their evening's rest in the kitchen. The vicar was nodding in his easy-chair, the house was so quiet that the tick of the old grandfather clock in the hall could be heard through the half-opened door. Then suddenly came the sound of flying footsteps, the door burst open, and in rushed Peggy once more,-- but such a Peggy, such an apparition of fear, suffering, and terror as brought a cry of consternation from every lip. Her eyes were starting from her head, her face was contorted in spasmodic gaspings for breath, her arms sawed the air like the sails of a windmill, and she flew round and round the room in a wild, unheeding rush.