“Behold your escort home this noon!
And on the way we’ll sing this tune,—
Ilga Barron,
The great fanfaron,—”
They got no further, for the prisoner, with a dash and a scream, burst her bars, and fled to the next room, followed by a laughing chorus from her tormentors.
Polly was distressed.
“I should think you’d be ashamed,” she declared, “to treat a girl in that way!”
The boys grinned.
“She deserves it!” spoke up Floyd Bascom.
“Yes, look at her last night!” cried Prescott Saunders. “Never said a word, and let you bear all the blame!”
“An’ see the way she’s been actin’ to you all along!” put in Peter Anderson.