out. The warm
wind of the summer night sighed through the treetops, and the sad chorus
of humble earthly pipers answered from below. It seemed to Peggy as if
the dear familiar world with its cheery homes and friendly faces, had
been blotted out, and Dorothy and herself were alone on an unfamiliar
earth. Yet with all the strange, terrifying loneliness, the stars had
never seemed so bright nor the heavenly Father so near.

CHAPTER XIX

THE RESCUE

The picnickers had slept late. Elaine was the first to wake, and she lay
for a moment staring at the tranquil sky above her, unable to understand
why she was not viewing the ceiling of her bedroom on Friendly Terrace.
Then recollection came, and she raised herself on her elbow just as Amy
opened her eyes.

"Did Peggy call?" inquired Amy stretching lazily. "Is it time to wake
up?"

"I didn't hear Peggy," Elaine admitted. "But I should say that it was
high time for us to be stirring, unless we're going to spend the night
here."

At the sound of voices, one sleeper after another gave signs of
returning animation. Priscilla sat up languidly, glanced at the little
watch she wore on a leather strap about her wrist, and uttered a
surprised exclamation.

"Why, it's five o'clock! I thought Peggy said we were to start back at
five."

"We've slept away all the afternoon," Amy commented in some vexation, as
she jumped to her feet with an energy in striking contrast to her late
lassitude. "I don't see why Peggy didn't wake us."

"Perhaps she didn't know how late it was getting." Priscilla, too, was
on her feet. "Peggy!" she called. "Oh, Peggy!" and then stood listening
vainly for the reply.

"She took Dorothy and went somewhere," Amy explained. "That was the last
thing I saw. Oh, Peggy! Peggy Raymond!"

Repeated calls were fruitless. "Perhaps she went to the barn to see
about the horses," was Aunt Abigail's contribution to the jumble of
suggestions, and Priscilla and Ruth promptly volunteered to test its
accuracy. They found that the rheumatic old man had Nat and Bess already
harnessed.

"Somebody said you wanted 'em for five o'clock," he explained. "'Twasn't
neither of you two. A pretty girl in white."

"Oh, yes, Peggy! But we can't find her. We thought perhaps she'd been
down here."

As the rheumatic old man was unable to give them news of Peggy, the
girls returned to their companions at a pace which unconsciously grew
more and more rapid, as they discussed the