THE SILVER LAKE STORIES. 121

As for “Peggy,” I stood in bodily
fear daily and hourly of her appear-
ance. One day, as Miss America was
brushing out her long hair, which she
usually did while hearing us spell, I
whispered to little Rachel Briggs, who
was sitting next me, and who immedi-
ately called out, “ Miss Muggs, Cicely —
says your hair looks like a cow’s tail!”
Oh, how old Miss Muggs came down
upon me, but as she stood shaking me,
and threatening me with instant ascen-
sion in the arms of old “ Peggy, to the |
garret of the church, a little girl named
Jenny, who had been sitting quite
thoughtful for a few moments, raised