"Then let her send the Lady Sarah to find out," retorted Tavia. "I would show her if I had freckles on my tongue." "Please don't talk so, Tavia, it is wrong--" "Wrong? My father says there are some men in this world too mean to bother the law about. He says he knows one he would like to thresh only he is sure the sneak would not hit him back, but would have him arrested. Physical punishment is the kind for such, father declares. And that's just the way I feel about Lady Sarah. I would not tell teacher on her, for that would give her a chance to 'crawl,' as Johnnie calls being mean. So sticking my tongue out at her is the nearest I can come to physical punishment." This doctrine did not in any way coincide with the upright views of Dorothy, but she knew argument would be useless. Besides, her head and heart were too full of other things to bother about school girl troubles. "Are you going to print the whole paper?" Tavia asked, with amusing ignorance of the ways of the Great American Press. "Why, no, dear, I could not print it. Ralph must do that." "Oh, I know. Just put things in it." "I may have to write some," Dorothy replied, with an important air. "The parade story was not written. Father intended to do that." "Oh, goody!" went on the irrepressible Tavia. "Say that the meanest girl in school, Miss Sarah Ford, was chosen, at the last moment, to lead the girls, owing to the sudden illness of Miss Dorothy Dale, the most popular girl in school, who took a headache from the sun, but later recovered in time to carry a Betsy Ross flag, along with her dear friend, Miss Octavia Travers, the flags being presented to the girls by Major Dale. There now, how's that?" and Tavia fairly beamed at the very idea of having her "story" printed. "I declare, Tavia, you can string words together, as father would say. But we cannot say anything against any one. That would bring on lawsuits, you know." "Oh yes, I know. It's just as pa says: some folks are too mean for anything but a good thrashing--and that's Sarah. But I'll do anything I can to help you, and I hope I won't get the Bugle into any lawsuits." Dorothy thanked her, and remarked that it was not likely. By this time they had reached the newspaper office. Up two flights of stairs, over the post-office and drug store, the girls found the much-perplexed Ralph Willoby waiting anxiously for his employer. Ralph was that kind of a young man whom people trust at once. He was known all over Dalton as a most zealous worker in the "Liquor Crusade," that was being very actively carried on in the town. He had a firm face, and deep, clear eyes. The major used to say his eyes could talk faster than his tongue--and he knew how to converse well, too. He had his sleeves rolled up, and was bending over a pile of "copy" when the girls entered the office. He brushed his sleeves down and rose to hear their message.