Nonsense ! But still -- it did n't look like an ordinary cat . It was so large -- and had such green , malicious eyes ! Plainly , there was something out of the common about the beastie ! In a tense , breathless silence the Story Girl placed our parcels on the lowest step , and laid her letter on the top of the pile . Her brown fingers trembled and her face was very pale . Suddenly the door above us opened , and Peg Bowen herself appeared on the threshold . She was a tall , sinewy old woman , wearing a short , ragged , drugget skirt which reached scantly below her knees , a scarlet print blouse , and a man 's hat . Her feet , arms , and neck were bare , and she had a battered old clay pipe in her mouth . Her brown face was seamed with a hundred wrinkles , and her tangled , grizzled hair fell unkemptly over her shoulders . 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 XXXXX the field beyond the brook .
Down above after below by for in of on with