"Isn't it?" said Grace, pensively; and her large eyes were full of tender gravity, as she fixed them on the old woman.
"I'll add serpent to my menagerie, and thank you, granny! Nobody ever called you serpent, did they, dear? Wait till you come to my time in life, and you'll know what it is to suffer.
"Well, Innocent, shall we come? After all, it is hard to stay where one isn't wanted, and the only trouble with Granny Button is that she has no heart."
"Yes, go, dear!" said the old woman to Peggy, eagerly. "Go right along home now, and don't let Miss Grace bring ye out again, as she's a naughty girl, and so I always tell her, though I never can say no to her, and that's the truth. But you are different, dear, and a freshman, I'll be bound; and don't let me see ye here again without leave or license, let alone the hour as is getting on for 'lights out.'"
"Fare thee well, my first and fairest!" said Grace, kissing her hand at the door. "Till our next meeting!"
It was only a few steps back from the turn into the High Street. Peggy's pulse began to beat more naturally; in a moment, now, they would be back, safe back, and she would never do it again, no matter what Grace thought of her. Fun was fun, but it was not worth this; and what would Margaret say?
Coming up from the High Street, they skirted a field that lay like waving silver in the moonlight. Nothing would do but that Grace must have a run through this field; she declared that it was her favourite spot in the world.
"After all, soda and marshmallows are carnal!" she insisted. "Our bodies are fed, Innocent, our souls starve for want of poetry. There is poetry in all that silver waving. I must! I must prance, or I shall not rest in my bed. Come along!"
And she went flitting about through the long grass, hither and thither like a will-o'-the-wisp, her long hair floating around her, her arms waving in gestures sometimes fantastic, but always graceful. Peggy could think of nothing but her cousin Rita, as she used to dance in the old days at Fernley. What a pair she and Grace would make! What a mercy they had never come together. Moreover, her heart, the heart of a farmer's daughter, smote her at the treading down of the grass. She stood at the edge of the field, now and then calling to her companion and urging her to come home, but for the most part simply watching her in mingled terror and admiration.
At length the wild spirit was satisfied, and Grace came flying back, radiant and breathless.