Who ran to catch me on the spot,
If I the slightest rule forgot,
Believing and excusing not?
Miss Jane.
Who lurked outside my door all day
In hopes that I would disobey,
And some low whispered word would say?
Miss Jane.
Who caught our Rose-bud half way through
The wall which parted her from two
Friends, and that small prank made her rue?
Miss Jane.
Who is our bane, our foe, our fear?
Who's always certain to appear
Just when we do not think her near?
Miss Jane.
—"Who down the hall is creeping now
With stealthy step, but knowing not how
Exactly to discover"—
broke in Rose, improvising rapidly. Next moment came a knock at the door. It was Miss Jane.
"Your drawers, Miss Carr,—your cupboard,"—she said, going across the room and examining each in turn. There was no fault to be found with either, so she withdrew, giving the laughing girls a suspicious glance, and remarking that it was a bad habit to sit on beds,—it always injured them.
"Do you suppose she heard?" whispered Mary Silver.
"No, I don't think she did," replied Rose. "Of course she suspected us of being in some mischief or other,—she always does that. Now, Mary, it's you turn to give us an intellectual treat. Begin."
Poor Mary shrank back, blushing and protesting.