"Oh, my dear boy, don't apologise! I should not have felt that it was really you if you had not knocked your cup over! To see the table-cloth swimming with tea all round convinces me that it is Arthur himself, and nobody else! Tut, tut! What does a table-cloth matter?" And Mrs Asplin beamed upon her favourite as if she were really rather delighted than otherwise at his exploit. It was a merry, not to say noisy, meal which followed. Peggy's lost spirits had come back with the first glimpse of Arthur's face; and her quips and cranks were so irresistibly droll that three separate times over Mellicent choked over her tea, and had to be relieved with vigorous pounding on the back, while even Esther shook with laughter, and the boys became positively uproarious. Then Mr Asplin came in, and Arthur was carefully concealed behind the window-curtains, while he was asked whom he would most like to see if the choice were given him. In provoking manner he mentioned at once a brother in Australia, and, when informed that relatives were not on the list, recollected an old college chum who was out in the Mauritius. "Oh dear, what a stupid man!" cried his wife in despair. "We don't mean the friends of your youth, dear! Think of the last few years and of your young friends! Now, if you could choose, whom would you--" "Arthur Saville!" said the vicar promptly, upon which Arthur made a loophole between the curtains and thrust his mischievous face through the gap, to the vicar's amazement and the uproarious delight of the onlookers. A dozen questions had to be asked and answered about studies, examinations, and health, while Peggy sat listening, beaming with happiness and pride. It came as quite a shock to all when the vicar announced that it was time to dress for dinner, and Mrs Asplin looked at Peggy with an apologetic smile. "We were all so charmed to see Arthur that I'm afraid we have been selfish and engrossed too much of his attention. You two will be longing for a cosy little chat to yourselves. If you run upstairs now, Peggy, and hurry through your dressing, there will be a little time before dinner, and you could have this room to yourselves." "Yes, run along, Peg! It won't take me ten minutes to get into my clothes, and I'll be here waiting for you!" cried Arthur eagerly. And Peggy went flying two steps at a time upstairs to her own room. The gas was lit; the can of hot water stood in the basin, the towel neatly folded over the top; the hands of the little red clock pointed to six o'clock, and the faint chime met her ear as she entered. Peggy stood still in the doorway, an icy chill crept through her veins, her hands grasped the lintel, and her eyes grew wide and blank with horror. There, on the writing-table lay a brown paper parcel--the precious parcel which contained the calendar which had been the object of such painful work and anxiety! CHAPTER SEVENTEEN. PEGGY IS LOST.