PEGGY-IN-THE-RAIN
my heart has been saying it ever since I found you first that day under the magnolia. 'Peggy—Peggy—Peggy!'—over and over."
She laughed softly and amusedly.
"You find amusement in that?" he asked, piqued.
"No, indeed; what you said was very pretty. I was only thinking of a little tot I met once on a train. I was spending a month in the summer with some friends in Virginia and we went over to Berryville for the horse show. Across the car from me was a quaint little girl in a funny little home-made dress. She sat squarely in the middle of the seat, with a bag beside her, and as the train rattled and thumped along she swayed back and forth in time to the song of the wheels, her eyes on space and a seraphic smile on her dear little face. And as she bobbed back and forth she kept intoning just loud enough for me to hear: 'Oh—how—I—love—old—Bae—ville,—old—Bae—ville,—old—Bae—ville! Oh—how—I—love—old—Bae—ville,—old—Baeville,—old—Bae—ville!' Wasn't it dear? I wish, though, I could say Berryville just the way she did. She kept it up for goodness only knows how long! And
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