striking nine."

The twilight lasted long, so it was still quite possible to distinguish
objects as two nightgowned, barefooted figures stole gently across the
landing. Fortunately everything was perfectly quiet in the upper
portion of the house. The younger girls were in bed, and the elder ones
were with the teachers downstairs.

"We must be sure to work the right strings," breathed Lindsay. "Have you
got yours? This was mine, with a knot at the end."

She gave a smart pull, and the bobbin rattled loudly inside the box.
They could hear it plainly, even through the closed door.

"What is that?"

The question came in an anxious and wideawake tone from within the room.

"I don't know. Oh, there it is again!"

The voice this time was Effie's.

"It sounds as if it were under the bed!"

"Oh, surely it's not a rat!"

"Now for it!" whispered Cicely, pulling the second string.

The result was all they could have desired. A series of yells proceeded
from the four-post bed, sufficient not only to rouse the occupants of
the other rooms on the landing, but to bring Miss Frazer hurrying up
from the library. Lindsay and Cicely dropped their strings and fled, not
a second too soon. They could hear Miss Frazer striking a match to light
the candle, and her exclamation when she discovered the cause of the
uproar.

"All the girls have turned out to see what's the matter," said Cicely.
"If you and I don't go too, they'll know who's done it."

"I think we shall have to own up, in any case," replied Lindsay.

"It was worth the scolding," she declared afterwards, when Miss Frazer
had administered a due homily on the danger of practical jokes. "I only
wish I could have seen their faces when the rat plumped on to them. They
needn't talk of screaming at nothing, and if they ever begin to tease us
about anything again--well, we'll just say 'Rats!'"

CHAPTER IV

Haversleigh

There never was such a glorious place as the Manor. Upon that point the
whole school perfectly agreed. The garden was as fascinating as the
house, and proved an absolute dream of delight, with its smooth
bowling-green, its winding paths, its charming little arbours overgrown
with creepers, its clipped yew hedges, and its unexpected flights of
steps. It might have been designed as a kind of terrestrial paradise for
girls. The big lawns afforded space for so many tennis courts that there
was no need for the younger ones to hover about, waiting enviou