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We seized these lines next day, losing Colonel Scammel, formerly of the staff, in whose amusing songs and gay talk our chief had used to take much pleasure. On the 28th the armies marched twelve miles down the peninsula, and camped two miles from the town, driving in the pickets and some parties of horse.
"And we can send the twins to a nice school." She paused. "And he's got a motor-car," she added in an awed voice. Peg burst into shrill laughter. "Lord! It's a novelette come true," she said. "Hark at her! You'll be telling me next that he's a second Scammel or something. What did you say his name was?" "Nicholas Forrester!" said Faith defiantly.
The interpreter translated it: first the names "Margit Hansen to Nils Pedersen": and after them, this strange verse from the Song of Solomon strange, I mean, to find written in such a place "Let him kiss me with the kisses of his mouth: for thy love is better than wine." The interpreter, Mr. Scammel, went upstairs, and she told him her story. She belonged to me and was called after me.
"Lucky Peg!" said the Beggar Man. Faith shook her head. "She doesn't think she's lucky," she answered seriously. "She's always saying how unfair things are. She hates rich people and she hates Mr. Scammel, too! She says that she would like to murder him." "And who is Scammel?" asked the Beggar Man. "Heeler's belongs to him," she told him.
"They think they've got a grudge against Mr. Heeler," she explained. "Think! They don't know, mind you! None of 'em!" Peg's eyes dilated a little. "There is no Mr. Heeler," she said, quickly. Ben Travers laughed. "She means Scammel," he explained, "or Forrester, as I dare say you call him now he's spending his money on you!" His face flushed with dull anger as he looked at her.
She caught up a dainty silk blouse from the table beside her and shook it contemptuously. "Do you know Scammel?" "Scammel?" Faith echoed the name blankly. "No; who is he?" "He owns this place," Peg explained. "There's no Heeler in it really it's just a name. It's Scammel we're all swotting to make money for," she added. "And I hate him "
Ask old Dell, if you don't believe me. He may call himself Forrester, or Jones, or any other old name, for all I care, but he's Scammel right enough, and he's as mean as he is rich," she added violently. "I don't believe it," said Faith. She was surprised at her own boldness.
In the same block, but nearer to Scammel Street, which is next towards the south, Brent's foundry used to be in the days when Richard Henry Stoddard was an iron-worker and the friend of Bayard Taylor, whom he visited in Murray Street. From this far East Side to Washington Square is quite a distance, but stop half-way at Police Headquarters and the nearby reporters' offices.
Peg stood stock still, as if she had lost all power of movement. She stared at Faith with horrified eyes. "Scammel!" she ejaculated. Faith flushed scarlet. "He's not Scammel, I tell you!" she said passionately. "How dare you say that he is? I wouldn't believe it not if everyone in the world told me that he was!" "You're a little fool!" Peg answered brutally.
"For business purposes," he said gently, as if he were speaking to a child, "he calls himself Ralph Scammel! I know he would not object to your being told, otherwise I should certainly not have mentioned it, I " He broke off. Mrs. Ledley had risen to her feet. She was as white as death, and her eyes were like fire as she took a step forward and leaned heavily against the paper-strewn table.
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