She kissed Grace, who returned the kiss warmly. But now Peggy, who had
been silent for a moment in sheer amazement, broke in:

"What does this all mean?" she cried. "Have you dropped from the moon,
Grace Wolfe, or where do you come from? You and Margaret have met
before? Where, and how, and when? I must know all about it, this very
instant."

The situation was soon explained. Jean, who had hung back, shy and
frightened, was brought forward and introduced; and soon all four girls
were seated comfortably on the floor, talking as if nothing astonishing
had happened. Only every few minutes Peggy would put her hand out and
touch Grace's shoulder, as if to make sure that she was genuine flesh
and blood, and not some phantom conjured up out of the moonlight.

"I have tried twice to see you," Margaret said. "Both times I seemed to
have come just at the wrong moment. Do tell me how you are getting on,
Grace! How has Mrs. Peyton been since you have been there? It is very
seldom that I am so many days without seeing her."

"Singular lady!" said Grace. "Beautiful, but singular. She thinks me
mad, so matters are equal. Why, we get on--somewhere! I am not sure
where. At present, I am in disgrace. She did not like her chocolate this
morning, and being in a pet, bade me throw it out of window; I obeyed.
It appears the cup was valuable, which was a pity, as its bones are
scattered far and wide."

"You threw the cup, too? Grace!"

"Naturally I threw the cup. I am going on the principle of doing exactly
what she tells me to do; thus she may discover the unreason of her
conduct. Tu-whit! Yesterday she was displeased with an embroidered
muslin jacket, and said she never wanted to see it again. I tore it up;
she was displeased. To-night she took a dislike to my dress, and told me
not to come near her till morning. Behold me here; I think it probable
that at this moment she is raising the house for me and desiring greatly
to be rubbed. These things are instructive to her. I have put her to
sleep every night by rubbing, and now she will not sleep. Poor lady; so
sad for her!"

All this was said quietly, pensively, with an air of mild consideration.
Margaret looked at her, wondering. No one had ever crossed Mrs. Peyton
before. One "companion" after another had been engaged, been tyrannized
over for a few weeks, and then dismissed. What would be the effect of
this opposite treatment? Timid herself, she had always met the vagaries
of her