ow my Leader'?"

"If you won't do anything _too_ outrageous," ventured Delia, replacing a
dainty piece of sewing inside her workbag, and preparing to fall in with
her friend's mood. "I've had one little difference with Miss Bickford
this week, and if I have another Miss Rodgers may cut up rough and stop
my next exeat."

"Honest Injun, I'll take all the blame if blame there is. Renie, dearie,
you're coming too?"

"Got to, I suppose," chuckled Irene. "When the Queen of the South arises
and gives her orders her slaves must 'tremble and obey.'"

"Not much trembling about you. Come on and be sports, both of you. Are
you ready? Do as your Granny tells you then, and off we go."

The game of "Follow my Leader," as every schoolgirl knows, consists in
exactly imitating everything which is done by your chief, no matter what
extraordinary and peculiar antics she may perform. To submit to Peachy's
guidance in the present exalted state of her spirits was a decided leap
in the dark, but Irene and Delia were ready for fun, and prepared to
take a few risks. At first their light-hearted companion contented
herself with running in and out among the lemon trees, walking along the
low wall of the terrace, jumping the culvert, or easy physical feats,
then, having slightly worked off steam, she stood for a moment and
paused to reflect.

"Christopher Columbus! I guess I know what I'll do. I've an exploring
fit on me, and if I can't find America I'll find something else new and
undiscovered. Here goes."

Peachy, with her satellites in her train, plunged her way across the
garden in the direction of the kitchen. She had suddenly remembered an
object which had more than once set her curiosity a-galloping. In the
yard outside the scullery there was an iron staircase intended for use
as a fire-escape from the servants' bedrooms, and also as a means of
mounting the roof when workmen wished to attend to the chimney-pots. Up
here she was determined to go. Fortunately the maids were safely inside
the kitchen, and the defenses were left unguarded.

"This is my Jacob's ladder," she proclaimed. "Who'll follow me to the
sky?"

"'Will you walk into my parlor?' said the spider to the fly,
''Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy!
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many curious things to show you when you're there.'"

"Go on, you lunatic," giggled Irene.

"And be quick