"Well, we were, and we knocked and asked politely to be let in, and not a word would she say. So we went over to the new hall teacher and told her that we were afraid our little room-mate was ill. So she came over and rapped, and there was no answer but a wild yell. And then—"
Ellen rolled over on the bed, helpless with laughter, and Mabel took up the tale.
"Then out of the transom came a pitcherful of water,—bang!"
"Not on Miss Ellingwood!" said Ethel.
"Yes, right on Miss Ellingwood."
Mabel's cheeks were flushed with pleasure. Ethel and Gertrude never paid much attention to her, and it was delightful to have them listen so closely.
"What did she do?"
"Told the youngster to come over in half an hour, and the youngster put on her Sunday dress and went over."
"And what then?" asked a breathless sub-Junior. "Did Miss Ellingwood nearly murder her? That's what I should have done."
"No. I guess Sarah told her the whole tale, because in a few minutes she came back and got her books, and she's been over there all evening. There'll be no more fun on this hall with a teacher's pet spying on us. I suppose Miss Ellingwood will come in after the retiring bell, and read us a lecture."