!" scoffed the Stripling.

"Right-o! You won't get it out of us that way."

What Lesbia proposed was that she should dress up in a landgirl's
costume which she had seen in a cupboard at the cottage, take one of the
old pistols that hung in the hall, go into the lane that evening, and
lie in wait for Derrick, who would be cycling back from Cefn station
where he always went to buy an evening paper at the bookstall. The plan
seemed most feasible. The lane was narrow, it would be almost dark, and
she hoped to be able to pull him off his bicycle before he discovered
the joke.

They watched him start as usual for Cefn, then rushed upstairs to begin
the toilet. The land costume fitted Lesbia very well. She had always
longed to try it on, and danced about in it now to her own admiration
and Regina's. She put on an old cap of Derrick's, corked a moustache,
and borrowed the pistol. It was a "flint-lock", a most suitable weapon
for a highwayman, and made a beautiful spark when the trigger was
pulled. They calculated the time which Derrick generally took in going
to and from the station, then went into the lane and hid behind some
bushes. It was twilight, the sun had set, and stars were coming out in
the sky. Presently they heard the familiar sound of approaching cycle
wheels. A red lamp came glimmering towards them.

"Now," whispered Regina, pushing her chum forward.

Lesbia sprang from the bush, presented her pistol, snapped the trigger
with the best spark it had yet made, and seizing the machine by the
handles tipped its owner neatly off on to the grass.

"Hello! What's all this about?" cried an unfamiliar voice, in much
deeper tones than those of the Stripling. The pistol dropped from
Lesbia's outstretched hand. Oh horrors! It was not Derrick after all
whom she had assaulted, but a stranger. The unknown object of her
violence picked himself up before she had time to run away, and,
grasping his bicycle, peered through the darkness into the faces of the
two girls, for Regina had joined her chum.

"I've come to see Mr. Webster. Is he at home?"

A pair of very ashamed and crestfallen maidens apologized, and explained
their "rag". Lesbia scooted away to wash off her moustache and change
her attire while Regina led the visitor into the cottage. Much to their
dismay, he was invited to supper. He was trustworthy, however, and did
not betray them, though his eyes twinkled when Mrs. Webster performed
the introduction "Mr. Ford--