p? Out with it!"

Lobelia sighed, and twisted her buttons. "I--I never am a very good
sleeper," she said at last. "I--I'm nervous, Peggy. And then--"

"And then, what?"

"Oh, dear me! I can't tell you. You won't believe me if I tell you.
Things come into my room and frighten me."

"Things? What do you mean, Lobelia?"

"I don't know what I mean!" cried the poor girl, looking about her
again, as if in dread of some unseen terror. "I don't know who it is, or
what it is. Something--or somebody--comes through my room at night and
goes out of the window."

"Ah!" said Peggy. "Well, go on. How long has this been going on?"

"Oh, ever so long! At first--Peggy, you will feel badly if I tell you
this."

"Well, then, I've got to feel badly," said Peggy, stoutly. "Though I
can't see what I have to do with it--so far. I'll have plenty to do with
it from now on!" she added, significantly. "Go on, Lobelia."

"Well, you know that time you were so good to me, Peggy; when Blanche
Haight and those others were teasing me, and you came in like a lioness
and drove them off. I never shall forget it as long as I live, Peggy,
never!"

"Nonsense!" said Peggy. "It wasn't anything at all. Don't be absurd,
Lobelia. Well, what since then?"

"It began after that. She--I know that it used to be Blanche Haight
then--she used to come in after I was in bed, and frighten me. She had a
sheet on, and at first I thought it was a ghost, and I fainted the first
time, I think; and then she used--she used to make faces and pinch me,
and one time I saw her ring, and so I knew who it was."

"The cowardly brute!" muttered Peggy. "It's well for her that she's out
of this school. Now, Lobelia Parkins, why, in the name of all that is
feeble-minded and ridiculous, didn't you tell me this before?"

"Oh, I couldn't!" said Lobelia. "I had given you enough trouble, Peggy.
And besides--"

"Well! besides what?"

"I was afraid! I was afraid she would kill me if I told."

"My goodness gracious _me_!" cried Peggy, bouncing on her mossy seat,
till Lobelia shrank away scared and trembling. "Do you think we live in
the Middle Ages, Lobelia Parkins? This is what comes of reading history;
it puts all those old-fangled notions into your head, till you have no
sense left. I know! You had all that stuff about Florence and Rome, and
poisoning, and all that. I had it too; awful stuff, and probably
two-thirds lies. History is the father of lies, you know; somebody says