Grace's tone was as quiet as ever, but she was more excited than Peggy had ever seen her. Her eyes shone; her hair, which was very beautiful, was unbraided for some reason—one never knew what whim would seize the whimsical one—and hung like a mantle about her shoulders. Standing thus, with her hand on the window, she looked, as I have said, like a creature from another world.
"Come!" she repeated; and Peggy had never heard sweeter music than her voice.
"Do you—do you think I ought to?" stammered the freshman, moving toward the window.
"One owes it to the catamountain!" cried Grace. "As for the owls,—well, they will be abroad!" she added, with a low laugh. "They would be far enough abroad if they knew. Come, Innocent!"
She glided out of the window, and Peggy followed, her heart beating to suffocation, her cheeks glowing with excitement. To be chosen by the Lone Wolf (for this was another of the wild girl's nicknames, the third being Ishmael) as the companion of one of her solitary rambles was perhaps the most thrilling thing that had ever come into Peggy's simple life. Probably she would have had courage to resist an invitation from any of the frolicsome parties that came and went through her room; she had no power to resist this. Silently she followed the Scapegoat down the iron ladder of the fire-escape, across the lawn, out into the open road.
Grace turned to her with one of her sudden movements, and took both her hands.
"The world's before us, where to choose!" she cried. "What shall it be, Innocent? Shall we climb up into the tower and ring the fire-bell? or go for apples? This is your first expedition, you shall choose."
"Oh, no, Grace; please! I don't know. I cannot. I'll go wherever you go, that's all!"
The Scapegoat meditated. "On the whole," she announced, "soda seems to be the thing. We'll go and have some soda, Innocent."
"Go down-town?" gasped Peggy.