had enough of that for one afternoon!"

"Too much is enough," answered Edna dryly, "but Tavia likes it. May
she have a real account of the little lamb story for the English class
to-morrow."

"Look! They are all following her!" moaned Nita.

"And they seem to think she is taking them home to supper!" added
Cologne.

"What shall we do?" wailed Nita. "We will surely all be arrested!"

"Wish the police van would hurry up, then," sighed Edna, "I am getting
tuckered out," and she glanced back again, to behold Tavia in the very
midst of the flock of the now somewhat quieted sheep.

"A nice cool cell wouldn't be so bad," declared Cologne, who, being
inclined to flesh, was apt to give out before her companions would
give in.

"How are the 'Bo-Peepers'?" yelled Tavia, with a flourish of a stick
meant to represent a shepherdess crook. "Or do you prefer the old
Roman? There will be all kinds of conflagrations when Nero comes!"

"Isn't she dreadful!" retorted Nita, whose face was really a sickly
white. "She gets us all into trouble, and then gloats over it."

"You wanted something real to write about to-day," Edna reminded her.
"This would make a regular thriller!"

"But, as a matter of fact," began Dorothy seriously, as she stopped,
and her companions halted with her, "what had we best do? We cannot
walk into Glenwood Hall with a herd of sheep at our heels," for the
animals were now following the girls along the road.

"Let's shoo them," suggested Cologne. "Maybe they'll shoo nicely."

"We'll get shooed when we try to get in to-night," murmured Edna. "And
just when we were finishing up the year in rather good style. I hadn't
a single thing against my name----"

"There's that man who saved the team," gasped Dorothy. "Mercy!
Wherever does he come from? A man is worse than two herds of
sheep--in our scrape with Mrs. Pangborn!"

Just as mysteriously as he had appeared before, the man with the
Chesterfieldian walk, and the big slouch hat, turned into the road.
Where he had come from, nobody could imagine.

"He has followed us!" breathed Nita. "Oh, dear me!" and she pressed
her handkerchief to her eyes.

"If you cry we will tell him you are too ill to walk, and then, maybe
he'll offer to carry you," blurted out Edna. "If one insists on being
a baby, she must be babied."

This charge rather frightened Nita back to courage, or at least she
pretended to it, for she promptly quickened her pace, and even hid
away her h