we go home from school they wait for us and pelt us. I've a notion to tell Teacher."
"No," said Frances, "that would just make it worse. They only do it for fun now; but if you told, they would be mad and it would be worse than ever. Come on, let's cross the street here, and then run as soon as they begin td throw. We'll take Bertha between us."
"That's just the way we do every night," sobbed Bertha, "and it always frightens me so when they yell, and I got an awful bump on my head last night, where one hit."
"It makes me so mad!" exclaimed Marie, stamping her foot. "I wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for little Bertha. I'd just walk right up and tell them what I think of them."
"You told them that last night while we were running," laughed Frances; "but they didn't seem to mind it much."
"Oh, they don't mind anything! They're too mean. I think—" Marie stopped in the middle of her sentence and bit her lip.
"What?" Frances turned and looked at her.
