below. Though
she gazed with as keen anxiety as Sister Anne in the story of Bluebeard,
she did not see anybody hurrying to their rescue. The dog apparently
grew a little tired, for it threw itself down on the floor, but without
relaxing any of its former vigilance.

"I believe it's going to stop here all night," groaned Cicely, almost in
tears.

The case was waxing desperate. So weary were the poor girls that they
were ready to drop with fatigue. Unless something happened, and that
speedily, there was bound to be a catastrophe. At the moment, however,
when Cicely felt that she simply could not endure any longer,
deliverance came. Through the little squares of the wooden lattice she
saw a figure strolling leisurely across the field. It was Monica
Courtenay, and she was walking in the direction of the farm. Cicely
shouted at the very pitch of her voice:

"Monica! Monica! Help! Oh, do come!"

Monica stopped in much astonishment, and looked round as if to ask who
was calling her by name; then, deciding that the screams came from the
direction of the granary, she hurried as fast as she could up the steps,
and opened the door. Her amazement was only equalled by her distress at
the girls' plight.

She did her best to call off the dog, but as that proved impossible she
ran to fetch the first person she could find. In less than a minute she
had returned with Mr. Brand, whose stout boot and stick soon sent the
collie yelping disconsolately into a corner, to realize that it had
exceeded its duties.

"He's a good watchdog, is Pincher," said the farmer, "but he's been a
bit too clever to-day. You silly hound! You ought to know better than to
set on two young wenches. You may well slink off! You'd better keep out
of reach of my stick, I can tell you!"

Lindsay and Cicely were much upset and shaken by their terrifying
experience. They never forgot how kindly and considerately Monica
behaved. She did not tell them it was their own fault, and that it
served them right for prying into places where they had no business (as
Mildred Roper or any of the other monitresses would certainly have
done); she only sympathized in her gentle way, and offered to escort
them to the Manor by a short cut, so that they should not be so very
late after all.

"It was a lucky thing I happened to be taking a walk this way," she
said. "It might have been hours before any of the farm people went into
the granary. I wouldn't keep such a savage dog if