heard from her lately?"

"No," said Peggy, sadly. "None of us have heard at school. She wrote
Miss Russell some time ago that she was going to try a new departure,
and expected either to go mad or make her fortune; but she didn't say
what it was. She never writes many letters, you know. We have all
written again and again, but it makes no difference. Hark! what is that
noise?"

"What noise? I heard nothing," said Margaret.

"I thought I heard some one speak, outside the window."

They listened for a moment, but all was quiet.

"It may have been Uncle John and Hugh in the garden," said Margaret. "It
is early yet, you know, not ten o'clock; they often walk about for an
hour and more after we come up. Speaking of Grace Wolfe, Peggy,--"

"Tu-whit!" said a voice. "In this connection only, I may be permitted to
remark, tu-whoo!"

"_Grace!_" cried Peggy, in such a voice that the other girls sprang to
their feet. Peggy was at the window before them, snatching back the
curtain. The night was warm, and the upper sash had been lowered
completely. Leaning over the sash was a slender figure shimmering white
in the moonlight. "Any admittance for the Goat?" said a deep, melodious
voice. "Peace, Innocent!" for Peggy was trying to drag her in over the
sash by main force.

"I address the mistress of the dwelling. Is there admittance for a
miscellaneous quadruped, Margaret Montfort?"

But now Margaret had her other hand, and laughing and crying, the girls
had her in, and again Peggy displayed the powerful development of her
muscles in a strangling embrace, from which Grace emerged panting, but
unruffled. Giving Peggy a sedate kiss, she turned to Margaret, who still
held her hand, gazing in wonder and bewilderment; for this was Mrs.
Peyton's companion.

"You pardon the informality?" she said; and her smile was like light in
the room. "I could not come to call on Peggy, or on Peggy's Margaret,
with my bonnet on. And it is a _great_ wall to climb!" she added,
wistfully. "I don't know when I have enjoyed myself so; there is little
climbing in these sad days. Now you see why I did not want to be Miss
Fox."

"Oh, my dear!" cried Margaret. "How could you keep me in the dark? How
stupid--how utterly stupid of me, not to know you! And yet, how could I
have guessed that Mrs. Peyton's companion was Peggy's own beloved Grace?
You must be my Grace, too, please; I will have neither wolves nor foxes,
but only Grace, or the Horned Owl."