She was scowling , and her flashing black eyes held no friendly light . We had borne up bravely enough hitherto , in spite of our inward , unconfessed quakings . But now our strained nerves gave way , and sheer panic seized us . Peter gave a little yelp of pure terror . We turned and fled across the clearing and into the woods . Down the long hill we tore , like mad , hunted creatures , firmly convinced that Peg Bowen was after us . Wild was that scamper , as nightmare-like as any recorded in our dream books . The Story Girl was in front of me , and I can recall the tremendous leaps she made over fallen logs and little spruce bushes , with her long brown curls streaming out behind her from their scarlet fillet . Cecily , behind me , kept gasping out the contradictory sentences , `` Oh , Bev , wait for me , '' and `` Oh , Bev , hurry , hurry ! '' More by blind instinct than anything else we kept together and found our way out of the woods . Presently we were in the field beyond the brook . Over us was a dainty sky of shell pink , placid cows were pasturing around us ; the farewell summers nodded to us in the friendly breezes . We halted , with a glad realization that we were back in our own haunts and that Peg Bowen had not caught us . `` Oh , was n't that an awful experience ? '' gasped Cecily , shuddering . `` I would n't go through it again -- I could n't , not even for Pat . '' `` It come on a fellow so suddent , '' said Peter shamefacedly . `` I think I could a-stood my ground if I 'd known she was going to come out . But when she popped out like that I thought I was done for . '' `` We should n't have run , '' said Felicity gloomily .
`` It showed we were afraid XXXXX her , and that always makes her awful cross .
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