There were many other Hallowe'en parties out that night; singing and
laughing was heard in every direction.

"It's like a play," said Anne, "only everything is behind the scenes.
Don't think I haven't enjoyed it, David, just because I got tired. I
never played with boys and girls of my own age before. What fun it is!"

"Isn't it?" replied the young man, "I love to get out, once in a while,
and have a good time like this. I find I can work all the better after
it's over."

Presently the others caught up with them, breathless and laughing.

"Miss Leece is stolen," cried Grace, "before ever she was hanged or
burned. I do wonder what they'll do with her."

"Oh, leave her in the woods," responded Reddy, "to scare the birds
away."

"Good night, Anne," continued Grace. "David will take you home. We go
this way. Don't be frightened about to-morrow. I doubt if she says
anything; and if she does, we are all implicated."

The young people separated, still singing and laughing; never dreaming
of the storm brewing from their evening's prank.

"Anne," pursued David, as they strolled down River Street together,
"when I make my flying machine will you be afraid to take a sail with
me?"

"Never," replied Anne, "but I wish it had been made in time to carry me
away from Miss Leece to-morrow morning."

And Anne's words had more meaning than either of them realized at the
time.

Imagine the surprise and horror of the Hallowe'en party when, next
morning, they discovered the effigy of Miss Leece planted right in front
of the Girls' High School!

And the teacher herself was the first to see the impious outrage.

CHAPTER VIII

MISS LEECE

Yes, there stood the hideous, grotesque effigy just where her abductors
had left her the night before, her green veil floating in the breezes.
As a figure of fun and an object of ridicule, she might not have created
more than a ripple with the faculty. But it was evident that Miss
Leece's function, even in effigy, was to make trouble.

And trouble was certainly brewing that memorable morning. The figure
itself might never have been recognized, but a placard which had been
pinned on the front of the old ulster left no room for doubt. Across it
had been inscribed in large printed letters:

"THE MOST UNPOPULAR TEACHER IN SCHOOL."

No one dared take the effigy away for fear of being implicated.
Everybody had seen it, both men and women professors and the boys and
girls of the tw