“Well, he won’t,” said Archibald encouragingly. “Ezra’s now engaged in going back to the blanket literally and figuratively, but don’t fret about him, Peg. We’ll do all we can for him, but you’re back on your old job now and you’ll have to give your whole time and attention to seeing to me.”
“And Mrs. Benderby and Boots and Wiggles and Spunky,” added Pegeen. “Isn’t it a lovely family!—and just think of my having you all right here together—not having to go away to see Mrs. Benderby or take Boots home nights or anything. I used to hate leaving you and sometimes I’d wake up in the night and worry for fear you’d get sick here all alone with nobody to see to you, and I’d always hurry as fast as I could, coming up in the morning for fear something had happened.”
“Bless you!” Archibald rumpled the thick black hair with an affectionate hand. “I hated being left alone myself, not because I was afraid of anything happening but because the place was forlorn without you. Peggy, Peggy! How you do creep into hearts and settle down to housekeeping in them!”
Mrs. Benderby proved herself a most satisfactory addition to the family. Just at first there was a ripple on the surface because Pegeen jealously resented any infringement of her rights in the matter of seeing to Archibald, but the two had that out promptly and satisfactorily.
“It’s this way, Peg,” the man explained seriously. “Mrs. Benderby needs something to do. She’ll feel dependent and unhappy if she isn’t allowed to make herself useful, and the only way she can make herself useful is by cooking and washing dishes. It’s different with you. Cooking and dish washing were the least of the things you did for me. You did them mighty well. I can’t deny that, but you’ve fed my heart and washed the cobwebs out of my eyes, and you can afford to turn the cooking and dish washing over to somebody else. I want you free to go with me anywhere at any time. Your job is seeing to my heart and soul, Peggy O’Neill. As long as you can do that why should you give a hoot who sees to my meals and dishes?”
“I’m a pig! I’m a horrid little pig,” Peg always repented as enthusiastically as she did everything else. “I’ll go and tell Mrs. Benderby so right now. I was perfectly snippy to her about coddling your eggs this morning, but she can coddle away just as she wants to, as long as she gets them right. You’ve got to have them _right_ though, and, please, I’d so much rather plan what you’re going to have for meals. I can do it better. Honestly I can.”