But could our girls have foreseen what the evening's fun would bring forth, they would never have been so reckless in carrying the effigy about town.
"Suppose we take her across the square," cried Reddy; "then over the bridge to the old graveyard and hang her on the limb of the apple tree just outside the wall ?" Off they started, singing at the tops of their voices: Hang a mean teacher on a sour apple tree, Hang a mean teacher on a sour apple tree.
When they reached the center of the public square, where a big electric light shed its rays, who should spring out of the shadows, from nowhere apparently, but Miss Leece herself?
Nothing escaped her sharp ears and her cold blue eyes; neither words of the song nor the figure in detail, green veil and all; nor Anne Pierson, who happened to be standing quite near the effigy at the moment.
And what was worse, and still more incriminating to the guilty merrymakers, the moment they caught sight of her they stopped singing.
The eyes in the pumpkin suddenly lost their glare, and a silent procession wound its way hurriedly from the square.
"Good heavens!" cried Grace.

"Why did we stop the song?
If we had only gone right ahead, it wouldn't have looked half as bad." "It was a mistake," admitted David, gravely, "especially as she seemed to have seen Anne first of all.

Anne, if she walks into you to-morrow morning, you can just lay the blame on me, do you hear?
I got up the whole party and I'm willing to stand for it." "No, no," cried Anne.

"That wouldn't be fair, David.

I couldn't think of doing that." "Well, you are not to get the blame, at any rate," said David, "if I have to go up and make a confession to the principal herself." "Let's go and hang her now, anyhow," cried Reddy.