"Poor Grace!" echoed Miss Cortlandt; and then the two passed on.
They were two very silent girls who crossed the lawn five minutes later. Grace Wolfe held her head high, and walked with her usual airy grace; her face was grave, but perhaps no graver than usual. Still, she did not speak; as for Peggy, she was too bowed down with shame and wretchedness to think even of her companion. She had been trusted; and she had betrayed the trust. There seemed nothing in the whole world but that.
They parted outside Peggy's window. Grace was going up a story higher on the fire-escape, Peggy did not think nor ask where.
No word was spoken; only, Grace laid her hand on Peggy's shoulder and looked in her face for a moment. Peggy could not speak, could only shake her head. A single sob broke from her lips; then she hurried in, and closed the window behind her.
Then Grace Wolfe did a singular thing. Standing on the iron step, she took from her pocket the packet of marshmallows, and deliberately scattered them over the lawn, throwing each one as far as her arm could reach.
"For the frogs!" she explained, aloud. "With the compliments of the Goat, the Wolf, and the Serpent,—to which is now added the Beast which Perishes!"