"The Lord have mercy!" she cried; her knees gave way, and she sank upon
the ground in an angular heap. When, with a desperate groan, she lifted
her head and looked through the lower rails, Jake was not to be seen.
With a swift, convulsive effort she rose to her feet, just in time to
catch a glimpse of the two young scamps whirling over the farther fence
into the wood below.

She walked unsteadily back to the house. "It's given me such a turn,"
she said to Sally, after describing the trick, "that I dunno when I'll
get over it."

Sally gave her some whiskey and sugar, which soon brought a vivid red to
the tip of her chin and the region of her cheek-bones, after which she
professed that she felt very comfortable. But the boys, frightened at
the effect of their thoughtless prank, did not make their appearance.
Joe, seeing Miss Betsy fall, thought she was dead, and the two hid
themselves in a bed of dead leaves, beside a fallen log, not daring to
venture home for supper. Sally said they should have none, and would
have cleared the table; but Miss Betsy, whose kind heart had long since
relented, went forth and brought them to light, promising that she would
not tell their father, provided they "would never do such a wicked thing
again." Their behavior, for the rest of the evening, was irreproachable.

Just as candles were being lighted, there was another step on the porch,
and the door opened on Martha Deane.

"I'm _so_ glad!" cried Sally. "Never mind your pattens, Martha; Joe
shall carry them into the kitchen. Come, let me take off your cloak and
hat."