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“Miss Snoopins, who of course had brought Mrs. Martin, stood back of our beloved principal and she fairly glared at us. One could plainly see that she was boiling within and more than ever wrathful because Mrs. Martin was not severe. Suddenly her X-ray glance, which had been sweeping over the floor with its evidences of guilt, chanced to fall upon the mantel. Into the room she strode, looking like a caricature in her flannel nightie, her skimpy kimona and her flapping bedroom slippers. Never before had her nose looked so long and peaked or her thin hair so tightly drawn back. When Sally saw the direction she was taking she looked, and to her horror she beheld that in her haste she had whirled the picture over twice, and that Donald dear was again smiling down upon the company.

“Mrs. Martin, having asked us to promise that we would obtain permission to have a feast, in the future, had retired and so she did not hear or see what followed. Miss Snoopins’ green eyes fairly snapped. ‘Sally MacLean, is that a boy’s picture?’ she demanded.