sp, and reaching back
caught Anne's hand.

The girl using the spade was Eleanor.

"Now I'm in for it," groaned Grace. "She's down on me now, and she'll be
sure to think I organized the whole thing." For an instant Grace
regretted making the promise to Julia, before learning the situation;
then, holding her head a trifle more erect, she decided to make the best
of her unfortunate predicament.

"It isn't Julia's fault," she thought. "She probably knows nothing about
our acquaintance with Eleanor; besides, Eleanor has no business to play
such tricks. Edna Wright must have told her all about last year."

Her reflections were cut short, for one of the girls glanced up from her
digging with a sudden exclamation which drew all eyes toward Julia and
her party.

"Well, little folks," said Julia in mock surprise, "what sort of a party
is this? Are you making mud pies or are you pretending you are at the
seashore?"

At Julia's first words Eleanor dropped the small spade she held and
straightened up, the picture of defiance. Her glance traveled from girl
to girl, and she curled her lip contemptuously as her eye rested on
Grace and Anne. The other diggers looked sheepishly at Julia, who stood
eyeing them in a way that made them feel "too foolish for anything," as
one of them afterwards expressed it.

"Why don't you answer me, little girls?" asked Julia. "Has the kitty
stolen your tongue?"

This was too much for Eleanor.

"How dare you speak to us in that manner and treat us as though we were
children?" she burst forth. "What business is it of yours why we are
here? Do you own this property?"

"Mercy, no," replied Julia composedly. "Do you?"

"No," replied Eleanor a trifle less rudely, "but we have as much right
here as you have."

"Granted," replied Julia calmly. "However, there is this difference.
You are here to make mischief and we are here to prevent it, and,
furthermore, are going to do so."

"What do you mean?" retorted Eleanor, her eyes flashing.

"Just this," replied Julia. "Last year the girls belonging to the
present senior and junior classes met on this very spot and amicably
disposed of a two-year-old class grudge. Emblematic of this they buried
a hatchet, once occupying a humble though honorable position in the
Crosby family, but cheerfully sacrificed for the good of the cause.

"Yesterday," continued Julia, "I overheard two juniors plotting to get
possession of this same hatchet for the purpose of f