Every now and then the sense of her loneliness smote her. She would probably be the only girl in the school who was not sending flowers away to-night. How different it would be if she had anybody in England who took an interest in her and cared to receive her snowdrops! "It's no use crying for the moon," she decided, blinking hard lest she should betray symptoms of weakness before her juniors. "When a thing can't be helped it can't, and there's an end of it." "Cuckoo! Corona Margarita! Do wait for us! You walk like the wind." "Or as if a bull were chasing you," panted Hattie, overtaking her and claiming a supporting arm. "Do you see where we've got ourselves to? The only way out of this is to go straight through the Glynmaen Wood." "Well, and why shouldn't we go through the Glynmaen Wood? Is it any different to any other wood?" "No, only they're horribly particular about trespassing. They stick up all kinds of notices warning people off." "What rubbish! Why, in New Zealand we go where we like." "Oh, I dare say, in New Zealand!" "Look, there's a notice up there," said Winnie, pointing over the hedge to a tree whereon was nailed a weather-stained board bearing the inhospitable legend: "Trespassers Beware". Rona stared at it quite belligerently. "I should like to pull it down," she observed. "What right has anybody to try to keep places all to themselves?" "I suppose it belongs to Lord Glyncraig." "All the more shame to him then. I shall take a particular pleasure in going, just because he sticks up 'Don't'." "Suppose we're caught?" "My blessed babes, you don't suppose I've come all this short cut and scrambled over a pole to be turned back by a trespass notice! Do you want to cross the stream again and trail home by the road?" "Rather not!" "Then I'll give you a boost to get over the fence there." The property was well protected. It took Rona's best efforts to help her companions to scale the high oak boards. When they had all dropped safely to the other side they set off through the trees in the direction they judged would bring them out nearest to The Woodlands. Three girls in thick shoes do not pass absolutely silently through a wood, especially if they indulge in giggles. Winnie and Hattie, moreover, could never be together without chattering incessantly. For the moment they had forgotten every principle of scouting. In that quiet, secluded spot their shrill voices rang out with extreme clearness. A rabbit or two scuttled away, and a pheasant flew off with a whirr. Presently another and heavier pair of boots might be heard tramping towards them, the bushes parted, and a dour-looking face, with lantern jaws and a stubbly chin, regarded them grimly. The gamekeeper glowered a moment, then growled out: "What are you three a-doing here?" "That's our own business," retorted Rona briskly. "Indeed? Well, it happens to be my business too. You're trespassing, and you know it." "We're doing no harm."