o your tents!" she repeated, sternly. And, hurrying, whispering,
stumbling over the remains of their feast scattered on the floor, the
frightened girls obeyed.

CHAPTER X.

TEACHER AND PUPIL.

The day after the escapade was the worst one that Peggy Montfort had
ever known. She was too strong and healthy to lie awake all night,
though it was much later than usual before she ceased to toss in uneasy
wretchedness and lay peacefully sleeping. When morning came, she woke,
and for a moment greeted the bright day joyfully. Then remembrance came
like a hand at her throat, and she shivered, and all the blue seemed to
fade away, and leave nothing but cold, miserable gray over all the
world. What had she done? What would Uncle John and Margaret, what would
Brother Hugh think, if they should know this? Slowly and heavily she
dressed and went down to breakfast. There, it seemed as if everybody
knew what she had done. Miss Russell's eyes rested thoughtfully on her
as she bade her good morning; Peggy shrank away, and could not meet the
gaze. If she did not know now, she would soon. "An honest, steady,
sensible girl!" Well, Miss Russell would find she had been mistaken,
that was all; and of course she would never trust again where she had
once been deceived. And yet Peggy knew in her heart that there was no
girl in the school who was so little likely to do this thing again as
herself. She was by nature, as I have said, a law-abiding creature, with
a natural reverence for authority. To have set the law at defiance was
bad enough; to have done it secretly, and betrayed the trust that had
been placed in her, that was worse! That was beyond possibility of
pardon. Thus argued Peggy in her wretchedness; and all through the
morning she went over it again and again, and yet again, seeing no help
or comfort anywhere. Bertha Haughton, always quick in sympathy, saw the
trouble in her friend's face, and came over in "gym" and begged to know
what was the matter. Wasn't Peggy well? Had anything happened to trouble
her? Peggy shook her head; she could not tell even this good
friend--yet. There was some one else who must be told first. She
promised to come to the Owls' Nest later in the day, and Bertha was
forced to be content with this, and left her with a vague sense of
uneasiness and a feeling that somehow little Peggy had grown suddenly
older and more mature. Yes, there is nothing like trouble for that!

It was almost a relief when the