inst her own
judgment--to the fascination of the lawless girl, who on her part seemed
curiously drawn to the simple, downright, law-abiding freshman.

It was about this time that Peggy found out why her room had been called
Broadway. The nights were still fine and warm, though it was now
October. Apples were ripe in the neighbouring orchards; and though it
was perfectly practicable and allowable to buy all the apples one wanted
in the daytime, that method did not approve itself to the wilder spirits
at Miss Russell's school.

To slide down the fire-escape, slip across the lawn, keeping well under
the trees by the edge, and so out into the road and down to the nearest
orchard, only a few rods off,--this was the true way to get apples, and
a very thrilling way it was. Peggy had been a good deal startled when
the first merry party, with noiseless steps and stifled giggles, came
stealing into her room, and, nodding to her, made their way out of the
window and down the fire-escape. It never occurred to her to make any
effort to stop them; they were sophomores, and she only a freshman. She
supposed it was against the rules, but of course they would not really
do any harm; and oh, what a good time they would have!

She looked after them with a sigh, and wished them luck in her heart, a
successful raid, and a safe return. Indeed, it was not long before they
were back, rosy and breathless, with baskets and pockets stuffed with
apples. The Fresh Freshman, as Peggy was called, did not fail to receive
her share; and she ate it with a little thrill of vicarious guilt which
was certainly not unpleasant. The two Owls never came with these
parties; and somehow Peggy did not mention the matter to them, though
she saw them constantly, and loved them always more and more. Sometimes
the expeditions were headed by Grace Wolfe, in her wildest mood;
sometimes it was Viola Vincent, who came tripping in with a band of her
chosen intimates. Viola had several times asked Peggy to be of the
party, but Peggy had not gone,--she could hardly have said why. Why was
it that Grace had never asked her? If she had, perhaps--

The night came when Grace did ask her.

Peggy had been studying as usual, and the signal for "lights out" came
while she was still at her task. Out went the light, for Peggy was, as
we have said, a law-abiding citizen. She was groping about, not yet used
to the half-light of the growing moon, when the door opened, and Grace
glid