I say the latter, because sooth it is, that half in anger, half in thought to bring her in for a talk, I once had it on my mind to send Peg's chair again into exile. Indeed, I did put it out of the room. But only for a moment; the wick of my courage burned dim, and I fell to be in utmost haste to restore that leathern furnishment, breathing the while in a quick, craven fashion of respiration, lest she surprise me before the situation was repaired. Thus it stood; the chair and I in the room, and both desolate, with Peg going each day by like a watchman on his rounds, to glance in and be assured. These conditions of separation between Peg and myself, as days went on, would give me less and less of ease. I was forever carrying them on the ridge of my thought, and they made an unhappy element in life's skyline. I stood the more in grief, since to be out with little Peg was like a quarrel with a child; and then, moreover, the fault of it was mine, for I overstepped an obvious line of right conduct when I went forth upon Eaton's disparagement. It was a fool's work, besides; for I might have known she would be sharp to notice and as sharply bound to resent; had she not already warned me how I disfavored Eaton, and told me I was jealous? She would say, truly, she did not care for that jealousy; but that was mere laughter when her fancy was at merriest. Also, she had told how I did not know her, and never would see her true self; I began now to understand that she was right. And yet I would have her back, and our old frank confidence returned; for Peg, as I tell you, was only a child--a prankish girl when all was in, and it made no more for my credit than for my peace that we should be at crosses.