Things were quietly managed at Pentland School; there was never any outcry, any open flurry of excitement and gossip. Many of the scholars never knew why five girls left school in the middle of the term. The seniors who did know shrugged their shoulders, and said it was a pity to have such things take the girls' minds off their parts—looking at everything from the point of view of Senior Dramatics. The juniors looked pretty sober for a week, even the sophomore spirits were dashed for the time. But nothing was said openly, and after awhile the scared whisperings died away, and work and play went on as usual. Poor little Viola Vincent mourned deeply the loss of her mate. She herself had escaped with a severe reprimand, having gone to Miss Russell to plead Vivia's cause, and confessing frankly her own share in the escapade. Vivia was anything but an agreeable girl; but she and Viola had grown up together, next-door neighbours and companions from their cradles, and Viola was lost without her. She threw herself upon Peggy for consolation, and Peggy found herself in the curious position of protecting and comforting a junior, and a girl two years older than herself. Viola would come in, and, curling herself up in the corner of Peggy's divan, declare that she had come for a good cry. A few sniffs would follow, and then perhaps actual tears, but more likely a river of speech.

"It's no use, Peggy! I cannot live! I simply can not live on in this way. I know V. was horrid to you—yes, she was! Oh, I am not blind, you know, if I am a goose! She was horrid to most of the girls, I know she was, but she was good to me, generally, and it didn't matter much if she wasn't. I was used to her little ways, and I didn't mind. And I have always had her, you see, all my life, and I don't—see—how I can get along without her. I wanted to be expelled, too! Yes, I did! that was why I told Miss Russell about my being there and all; I thought she would be sure to send me away, too. I think it was very unjust of her not to, I'm sure."

"Viola, don't talk so! You had nothing to do with the—the attack, or any violence. You would have gone away quietly when I said you could not use the window; you know you would."

"How do you know I would have? I might have torn you limb from limb, Peggy, for all you can say. What are you laughing at?"

For this statement, coming from a small person with a grasp about as powerful as that of a week-old kitten, was too much for the stalwart Peggy's composure.

"You don't know what I am when I am roused!" Viola went on. "I'm awful, simply awful!" And she opened her blue eyes wide, and looked like a tragic baby.

"But—my! Peggy, how you did look that night! I wonder this whole room didn't turn blue with fright. I was frightened almost to death; I wonder I'm alive to-day. Well, wasn't it too perf'ly awful for anything, the whole thing?"

"It was pretty bad!" Peggy assented. "But it's all over now, Viola; I would try not to dwell on it too much, if I were you. Of course I know how you must miss Vivia, and I'm dreadfully sorry about it all. But just think how dear the Owls have been to both of us."

"Haven't they?" cried Viola, drying her tears, her eyes brightening. "Aren't they too perfectly lovely for anything, the Owls? I think the Snowy is just the sweetest thing that ever lived in this world, don't you?"

"I think she's one of them," said honest Peggy. "But I'm just as fond of Bertha. She was my first friend here, my very first."

"Oh, how funny you were that first day, Peggy!" cried Viola, laughing now, her sorrows forgotten for the time. "You were too killing! I thought I should have died, when you went tumbling all over yourself. You were killing, weren't you, now?"

"You seem to have survived!" said Peggy, good-naturedly. It was not pleasant to be laughed at, but no one ever minded Viola.

"Where are you going?" demanded Viola, as Peggy got out her "Tam" and pinned it on with a resolute air. "Peggy, you are not going out, just when I have come to see you? I was so lonely, and I wanted some one to talk to; and now the minute I come, you get up and go away. I must say I don't think you are very polite." And Viola pouted and looked like a child of six instead of a girl of sixteen.

"Viola!" said Peggy. "You have been here an hour and a half, do you know it? and I must have a walk; I haven't been outside the door this afternoon. Put on your Tam and come along with me! You'd feel ever so much better if you would take more exercise."

"Oh, no, I shouldn't! and I cannot see what you want to be walk, walking, all the everlasting time for, Peggy Montfort. What's the use of it?"

"The use?" cried Peggy, with sparkling eyes. "Why, there's all the use in the world. In the first place, it makes you strong and healthy, and keeps you well."

"Oh! but gym does that! We have to do gym, and I don't mind that; in fact it's rather fun, only it spoils your figure dreadfully."

"But gym isn't enough, if you don't take any other exercise," said Peggy. "And besides, V., just think of the joy of walking and running. Why, you see all the things growing, and breathe the air, and—and—hear the birds, and the water, and—well, I shouldn't want to live if I couldn't walk, that's all. Come along, and you'll see!"

"Oh, I can't, I'm too tired."

"You are tired, because you have been sitting in the house all day. And you are pale, and—"

"No! am I?" cried Viola, running to the glass. "I'm so glad! I just love to be pale, it's so interesting. It makes my eyes look larger, too, doesn't it, Peggy? They do look very large to-day, don't they, Peggy?"

Peggy sighed. "You do discourage me, Viola!" she said. "Well, good-bye. I must go. The others are waiting for me."

"What others? Who else is going? What are you going to do?"

"Why, I told you! We are going to walk."

"Yes, but what for? Are you going to the shops, or going to see somebody? I can't see any sense in just stupid walking, without any object. And you didn't tell me who was going."

"You didn't give me a chance. Well, Rose Barclay is going, and two other freshmen whom I don't think you know, Clara Fair and Ethel Bird—and Lobelia Parkins."

"Peggy Montfort! why do you go with that little animal? I've told you before that I could not, for the honour of the corridor, have you seen with a creature that looks like that. Let her go with Colney Hatch if she wants company; they'd be two of a kind."

"Colney Hatch is one of the brightest girls in school, Miss Cortlandt says so!"

"Very likely; but that doesn't make her a fit associate for you, my Veezy-vee. You never seem to understand about different sets. I want you to belong to the smart set, and you won't."

"Do the Owls belong to it?" demanded Peggy, turning red.

"Peggy, how dense you are! The Owls don't belong to any set because they won't. Of course they could belong to any set they pleased."

"Does Grace Wolfe belong to it?"

"The Goat? Why, she used to; but she's so awfully queer, you know; the Goat has grown too awfully queer for anything. She stays by herself mostly, ever since she cut loose from the Gang. And Vivia is gone," she wailed, "and Blanche Haight,—Blanchey was not very nice, but her gowns fitted like a seraph's, and the style to her hats was too perfectly killing for anything, you know it was. And now there isn't any one, not a single soul, that I care to talk to about clothes. I've had my pink waist done over, and it's simply dandy—the sweetest thing you ever saw in your life; and nobody cares. I am so unhappy!"

"I haven't seen that new hat you told me about!" said Peggy, with a happy stroke of diplomacy. If any one had told Margaret Montfort that her Peggy would ever develop a talent for diplomacy she would have opened her eyes wide indeed; but one learns many things at boarding-school.

Viola brightened at once.

"No! didn't I?" she cried, her whole manner changing. "Would you like to see it, Peggy? It is really too cute for anything, it just is! What makes you shut up your mouth that way?"

"Oh, nothing! Well, yes, it is something. You won't mind if I tell you? Well, I used to say 'cute,' and Margaret showed me what bad English it was, and how silly it sounded. So I made up my mind to stop it, and every time I wanted to say it I screwed up my mouth and counted ten. Just the same with 'elegant.' I've broken myself of that, too, but it was hard work."

"Elegant! simply elegant!" repeated Viola, thoughtfully. "The Goat won't let you say that, either, or the Owls. What's the use of being so fussy? besides, elegant is a real word, they can't say it isn't, so now!"

"Oh! of course it is, and it has its real use. You can speak of an elegant dress, or an elegant carriage, and then it's all right; but I used to say I had had an elegant time, don't you know? and talk about elegant cake, and all that kind of thing. And when once you have learned better, it does sound awfully silly."

"Well, they make just as much fuss about 'awful,' and there you are saying that, and you say it all the time."

"I know!" said poor Peggy, hanging her head. "I know I do, though I try awfully hard not to. There! that's the way it is. It does seem as if I couldn't get over that, but I'm going on trying. And if you don't get your hat this minute, V., I shall go without you. I can't wait any longer. It's awfully—it's very late."

"Why, I'm coming, as fast as I can; how impatient you are, Peggy! You aren't half as fond of me as I am of you, or you would not be in such a hurry to get away to that little fright. There, here it is! Now isn't that dandy, simply dandy? I do think it is too perf'ly sweet for anything!"

It was a pretty hat, and Viola certainly looked charming in it. She was so pleased with her appearance that she could not resist the temptation of "showing off" to the other girls; so she followed Peggy down to the lawn, where a little group was already gathered. At sight of a junior, even so unformidable a junior as Viola Vincent, poor little Lobelia Parkins shrank into a small knotted heap of misery. Through Peggy's intercession, Rose Barclay and the two other freshmen had been kind to her, and had agreed to let her share their walks, which they took now semi-weekly under Peggy's leadership. None of them cared for her, or felt much interest in her, but they did care for Peggy Montfort, partly because she was the strongest girl in the class, partly because of the fame that had accrued to her since her exploit in resisting and breaking up the famous Gang; but mostly, perhaps, because everybody felt and said that Peggy Montfort was "all right," which in schoolgirl parlance meant that she was a cheerful, kindly, and right-minded girl. So, though her chief friends were still among the juniors, she was well known and well liked in her own class.

Peggy took Lobelia's hand, and drew it resolutely through her arm.

"We'll lead the way!" she cried. "Rose and Viola, you two come next, and Clara and Ethel bring up the rear. How's that?"

All agreed to the arrangement; and the six started off in high spirits.

"Where are we going to-day?" asked Rose Barclay. "Don't kill us, Peggy! I haven't got over being stiff yet, from the last tramp. It was jolly, though."

"It was splendid!" chimed in Ethel Bird. "Why, I had no idea what pretty places there were about here. Shall we go to the woods again?"

"I thought of going up Spy Hill!" said Peggy. "It isn't very high, and there's a lovely view from the top."

"Oh, I never can get as far as that!" cried Viola, aghast. "You said a little walk, Peggy, and that is miles and miles, I know it is. Oh, I think I'll go back."

"Oh, don't!" cried Rose, in a tone of heartfelt interest that won Viola's susceptible heart. "It isn't very far, truly it isn't; and I want to ask you where you got that hat. It is too perfectly lovely for anything! I've got to have a new hat, and I do wish—"

"My dear!" cried Viola, dimpling all over with pleasure, "I'll tell you all about it. You see—"

There was no more trouble with Viola. Peggy chuckled, and started off at a round pace, the others following.

The two Owls, standing at their window with arms intertwined, just thinking of taking a little flutter in the cool of the afternoon, looked after them with friendly eyes.

"What's the matter with Peggy Montfort?" said the Fluffy to the Snowy.

"She's all right!" said the Snowy to the Fluffy. And then they looked at each other sternly, and shook their heads in grave rebuke. "My dear," they said both together, "we are surprised!"