to come and view the garden on Sunday afternoon, and clad in their best
dresses the girls paraded in through the gate, and were shown the
beauties of the lovely grounds. They were taken in relays down in the
lift to the creek by the sea, and afterwards entertained with ice-cream
and biscuits on the terrace in front of the villa, which was all very
interesting and delightful, though not nearly so exciting as the
surreptitious peep which the naughty trio had previously obtained on
their own account. Mr. Bond might indeed be silent on the subject of
that afternoon's adventure, but the expedition into his grounds had been
only a part of Peachy's pranks in her game of "Follow the Leader," and
for one of her sins at any rate she was to be called to account. The
cistern on the top of the roof supplied a tap on the upper landing from
which Anastasia, one of the chambermaids, was accustomed to draw water
with which to fill the bedroom jugs.

On the morning after the events just narrated she took her can as usual,
but was utterly horrified, when she turned the tap, to find the water
running red. She was intensely superstitious, and immediately jumped to
the conclusion that she was the victim of witchcraft, so she flung her
apron over her head, commenced to sob, and deplored the early death
which would probably overtake her. She sat on the landing making quite a
scene, prophesying evil to the other servants who crowded round to
condole and marvel, and showing the bewitched water in her jug with a
mixture of importance and horror. The girls who occupied rooms on the
upper landing were duly thrilled, and, after debating every possible or
impossible solution of the mystery, were on the point of carrying the
tale to Miss Rodgers when Peachy came hurrying along.

"I've only just heard. Don't, _don't_ go to the 'Ogre's Den' about it.
If you love me don't. I guess I know what's happened. The water's _not_
bewitched. If you've any sense left in your silly head come with me on
to the roof and we'll look at the cistern. We'll soon find out what's
the matter. Callie, lend me your butterfly-net, that's a saintly girl!"

Anastasia, though somewhat protesting, allowed herself to be persuaded,
and went with Peachy first to the kitchen floor and then up the iron
staircase to the roof. Approaching the cistern Peachy climbed on to its
edge, lowered her butterfly-net, and presently fished up a wet and
draggled scarlet ribbon which stained her finge