ught; to have this friend, so strong, so kind, so helpful,
lying close beside the bed, ready to help, to comfort,--Lobelia's poor
shrinking spirit took courage, and she held her breath now and then, for
the pure pleasure of hearing Peggy's calm, regular breathing. Surely she
must be asleep! She could not breathe like that unless she were sleeping
quietly. Oh, might nothing happen to break her friend's rest!

Peggy was very nearly asleep, it was true. She had meant to stay awake
as long as there was any possibility of any one's coming into the room.
She was valiantly wide awake at first, and lay blinking at the moon,
which Was shining in the most obliging manner full upon the spot where
she lay. Peggy wondered what those mountains were like which made the
strange figures on the broad, silver disk. They must be tremendous!
Think of them, miles high, with deep, awful valleys between, and all
dead and white and dry like bone. And all they seemed to be good for now
was for us to make faces and things out of, and stories--to
please--the--children. Peggy was getting very sleepy. She opened her
eyes wider, and stared harder at the moon. It seemed to be staring back.
They were certainly eyes, not--mountains--and one of them was winking at
her; and now she seemed to hear a sound, a voice, coming from far,
far--ages away, and saying, whispering--

Then, all in a moment, sleep, and the moon and its mountains were as if
they had never been.

The door opened, swiftly and noiselessly, and some one darted in,--a
tall, slender figure, with gray drapery over the head and shoulders. It
turned and halted, facing the door. Peggy sprang up in bull-dog
silence, and was about to fling herself bodily on the intruder; but an
arm thrown out, a familiar gesture, a whispered word, checked her, and
she stood motionless, hardly drawing breath. Next moment footsteps were
heard in the corridor, as of some one hastening, and making every effort
to be silent. The door was pushed hastily open, and Miss Pugsley stood
on the threshold. She was panting, and her dress was disarranged.

"Ah!" she cried, in a spiteful whisper. "I have caught you at last, have
I? I know you, miss! No need to hide your face! I know you well enough,
and this is the end of your fine doings. Lift up that veil, I command
you!"

The gray figure advanced toward her one step, and lifted the veil; and
even Peggy's stout heart turned to water within her. Miss Pugsley
recoiled with a