Toward the end of June, however, something took place which gave them quite a different feeling,—something so disagreeable that I hate to tell about it; but as it really happened, I must.
It was on a Saturday morning. They had just come back from the bath-house, and were going upstairs, laughing, and feeling very merry; for Clover had written a droll piece for the S. S. U. C. meeting, and was telling Katy about it, when, just at the head of the stairs, they met Rose Red. She was evidently in trouble, for she looked flushed and excited, and was under escort of Miss Barnes, who marched before her with the air of a policeman. As she passed the girls, Rose opened her eyes very wide, and made a face expressive of dismay.
"What's the matter?" whispered Clover. Rose only made another grimace, clawed with her fingers at Miss Barnes's back and vanished down the entry which led to Mrs. Florence's room. They stood looking after her.
"Oh, dear!" sighed Clover, "I'm so afraid Rose is in a scrape."
They walked on toward Quaker Row. In the
