she were telling something pleasant. Rose moved uneasily, and Polly
shivered.

"Didn't they _ever_ find her?" Polly asked.

"I guess not," said Gwen, "and the funny thing is that the story stopped
right there, so you see I'll never have any idea whether she ever got
out or not."

"Oh, I like _pleasant_ stories," Rose said, as she slipped from the
wall. In an instant Polly stood beside her, and the two turned toward
home, but Gwen had no idea of losing her audience so soon.

"Wait a minute," she cried, "and I'll tell you 'bout the girl that
fell into the ditch, and had to be pulled out by her hair!"

"Oh, _don't_!" cried Polly, and clapping her hands over her ears, she
turned, and ran at top speed, followed by Rose.

They soon outran Gwen, and were glad to rest.

"Did you ever hear such _horrid_ stories?" Polly asked.

"Never!" cried Rose, "unless it was other stories that she told at
other times. There's the one that she made us listen to when we were
over to Lena Lindsey's one day. The one about the ghost that rode down
the main street every night at twelve."

"Oh, I remember," said Polly. "That was the time that Rob Lindsey said
the shivers ran up and down his spine until his back was all _humps_!