tree. The
beastly old thing's rotten, and I've tumbled to the very bottom of the
trunk!"

"Are you hurt?"

"No, nothing to speak of."

"Here's a pretty go!" murmured the girls, who all came running at the
sound of shouts. "How's she going to get out again?"

"Can't you climb up?" urged Miss Moseley.

"No, I can't stir an inch; I'm wedged in somehow."

What was to be done? The affair waxed serious. Miss Moseley, with a
really heroic effort, and much help from the girls, managed to scale the
tree and look down into the hollow trunk. She could just see Rona's
scared face peeping up at her many feet below.

"Can you put up your hand and let me pull you?"

"No; I tell you I'm wedged as tight as a sardine."

"We shall have to send for help then. May and Kathleen, run as quickly
as you can down the lane. There's a farm at the bottom of the hill. Tell
them what's the matter."

"I hope to goodness they'll understand English!" murmured Merle.

"Will I have to stop here always?" demanded a tragic voice within the
tree. "Shall you be able to feed me, or will I have to starve? How long
does it take to die of hunger?"

"You won't die just yet," returned Miss Moseley, laughing a little in
spite of herself. "We'll get you out in course of time."

"I guess I'd better make my will, though. Has anybody got a pencil and
paper, and will they please write it down and send it home? I want to
leave my saddle to Pamela Higson, and Jake is to have the bridle and
whip--I always liked him better than Billy, though I pretended I didn't.
Jane Peters may have my writing-desk--much she writes, though!--and
Amabel Holt my old doll. That's all I've left in New Zealand. Ulyth can
take what I've got at school--'twon't be any great shakes to her, I
expect. You didn't tell me how long it takes to die!"

"Cheer up! There's not the slightest danger," Miss Moseley continued to
assure her.

"It's all very well to say 'cheer up' when you're standing safe on the
top," said the gloomy voice of the imprisoned dryad. "It feels a
different matter when you're boxed up tight with tree all round you.
It's jolly uncomfortable. Where are the girls?"

"Here's one," replied Ulyth, climbing the tree to relieve poor Miss
Moseley, who gladly retired in her favour. "I'm going to stay and talk
to you till somebody comes to get you out. Oh, here are May and Kathleen
at last! What a fearful time they've been!"

The two messengers came panting back with many