Miss Norton was a martinet where school rules were concerned, and the Brackenfield code was strict. She knew that Mrs. Morrison would at least have allowed Marjorie and Dona to see their brother in the drawing-room, but in the absence of instructions to that effect she chose to keep to the letter of the law and refuse all male visitors. Larry, with an effort, kept his temper. He was extremely annoyed and disappointed, but he did not forget that he was a gentleman. "Then I will not trouble you further, and must apologize for interrupting you," he said stiffly but courteously. "I am afraid I have trespassed upon your time." "Please do not mention it," answered Miss Norton with equal politeness. They parted on terms of icy civility. Larry, however, was not to be entirely defeated. He had only left Haileybury six months before, and there was still much of the schoolboy in him. He was determined to find a way to see his sisters. He paused a moment on the steps after the maid had shown him out, and, taking a notebook from his pocket, hastily scribbled a few lines, then, noticing some girls with hockey sticks crossing the quadrangle, he went up to them, and, handing the note to the one whose looks he considered the most encouraging, said: "May I ask you to be so kind as to give this to my sister, Dona Anderson? It's very important." Then he walked away down the drive. Meantime Marjorie and Dona had been waiting in momentary expectation of a call to the drawing-room. They could hardly believe the bad news when scouts informed them that their brother had left without seeing them. "Gone away!" echoed Dona, almost in tears. "But why? Who sent him away?" demanded Marjorie indignantly. At this crisis Mena Matthews hurried in with the note. Dona read it, with Marjorie looking over her shoulder. It ran: "DEAR OLD BUNTING, "Your schoolmistress guards you like nuns, but I must see you and Squibs somehow. Can you manage to peep over the wall, right-hand side of gate? I'll walk up and down the road for half an hour, on the chance. Yours, "LARRY." There was a hockey match that afternoon between the second and third teams, and all the school was making its way in the direction of the playing-fields. Within the next minute, however, Marjorie and Dona, with a select escort of friends to act as scouts, had reached the garden wall, and were climbing up with an agility that would have delighted their gymnasium mistress, could she have witnessed the performance. Larry, in the road below, grinned as the two familiar heads appeared above the coping. "It isn't safe to talk here," called Marjorie. "Go down that side lane till you come to some wooden palings. We'll cut across the plantation, and meet you there." "All serene!" laughed Larry, hugely enjoying the joke.