"That was glorious!" she said. "Poor little Innocent, you haven't much soul, have you? Still, I love you. Come, we will go back to the shades."
They neared the gate; as they did so, they heard voices and the sound of approaching footsteps. Grace paused for a moment; then held up her hand with a warning gesture. Peggy felt her heart turn cold; it was coming! one of the voices was that of Miss Russell. It was impossible for them to escape being seen. The broad stretch of the lawn lay between them and safety, and the relentless moonlight lay full upon the hedge which had lain in shadow when they came out. Peggy braced herself to meet the shock; but Grace laid a hand on her arm, and then made a gesture. A great tree stood just by the gate of Pentland School; a chestnut-tree, with low-jutting, wide-spreading branches. With the swift movement of some woodland creature, Grace Wolfe swung herself up to the lowest branch, and motioned Peggy to follow; Peggy was a good climber, too; more slowly, but with equal agility, she gained the branch; then softly, slowly, both girls crept along, inward and upward, till a thick screen of leaves hid them completely from sight.
Two ladies came around the turn, and paused a moment at the gate,—Miss Russell and Miss Cortlandt. They stood directly under the chestnut-tree; Peggy could have dropped a nut down exactly on the crown of Miss Russell's bonnet; she never knew how near Grace came to doing so, nor how hard it was to refrain for her, Peggy's, sake.
"I hope not!" said Miss Russell. "I do most earnestly hope not."
"I am afraid there is little doubt of it!" replied Miss Cortlandt. "Miss Pugsley seemed quite positive; I know she means to bring it up at Faculty Meeting to-morrow night."
Miss Russell sighed. "Then it will not be done in the wisest manner!" she said. "I can say this to you, Emily, for you understand her as well as I do. I had hoped," she continued, "that the whole business would be over when Wilhelmina Lightwood—well, I suppose she will always be 'Billy,' even to me—when Billy went away. I put Peggy Montfort there, because she seemed such an honest, steady, sensible kind of girl. I thought I could trust Peggy Montfort."
"I think you can!" said Miss Cortlandt. "I don't believe Peggy has had any share in the flittings. But I do think it might perhaps have been better to tell her all about it, and put her on her guard. Being a new girl, she might not feel at liberty to stop the older ones when they came; and she could not tell of it. You see, Miss Russell, it is such a little time since I was a 'girl' myself, that I haven't got away from their point of view yet."
"I hope you never will, my dear!" said Miss Russell, warmly. "It is when I get too far away from that point of view myself that I make mistakes. Yes, I ought to have put the child on her guard; I'll do so to-morrow."
She looked over toward the school, and sighed again.
"Broad is the way that leadeth to destruction!" she said. "It was Grace who gave it the name, of course. Poor Grace!"