not so easily checked. Peggy heard it rippling behind her as she fled.
Even Miss Russell smiled as she rapped on the desk, and said one word
to herself: "Untrained!"

But the girl who had sat beside Peggy rubbed her foot, which hurt a good
deal, and said three words: "Poor little thing!"

No. 18 in the second corridor was a good-sized room, with two windows,
one of them crossed on the outside by a fire-escape. Its present aspect
was bare and unhomelike. The furniture consisted of an iron bedstead, a
bureau and wash-stand, two chairs and a small table, all neat, but
severely plain. The small square of carpet on the floor was a cold gray
mixture with brown flowers on it. As Peggy Montfort looked about her,
her heart sank. Was she to live here, to spend her days and nights here,
for a whole endless year? She thought of her room at home, the great
sunny room that she shared with her sister Jean. That had four windows,
which were generally flung wide open; it was bare, because she and Jean
liked to have plenty of space for gymnastics and wrestling; but that was
a homelike, accustomed bareness, and they loved it. The great old
four-post bed, with the round balls on which they loved to stand and
perform circus tricks; the hammock slung across one end; the birds'
nests and hawks' wings that adorned the walls in lieu of pictures; the
antlers on which they hung their hats,--all these, or the thought of
them, smote Peggy's stout heart, and sent it lower and lower down.

A maid knocked at the door: here was Miss Montfort's trunk, and would
she unpack it, please, as the man would be coming again to take the
empty trunks to the attic.

Peggy fell to work with ardour; here, at least, was something to do, in
this strange, lonesome place. Arriving in the afternoon, a day or two
after the beginning of school, her lessons were not to begin till the
next morning.

Every dress, as she lifted it out, seemed a bit of home. Here was the
triangular tear in her blue gingham, that Jean mended for her. One could
hardly see it now! Dear Jean! she was neat-handed, and she had a little
look of Margaret, the same soft hair and clear, quiet eyes. Here was her
beloved bicycle skirt! Ah, there was something heavy in the pocket.
Peggy explored, and drew forth an apple; that brought the tears, which
were not very far off in the first place, and there was a good deal of
salt in the apple as she ate it. She was so determined to make the best
of everyt