"All right! I'll be up in half a jiff," replied Mr. Freeman, laying his painting traps on the dovecot steps. In a few minutes they could hear him tramping up the stairs. He soon picked up the handle, fitted it in its socket, and opened the door. He regarded the girls with an amused smile of accusation. "It strikes me you young ladies ought to be at school instead of exploring old houses on your own," he ventured in reply to their overwhelming thanks. "We're going back now, and a jolly scrape we shall get into if we're not quick about it," said Gwethyn. "The Great Panjandrum will jaw us no end." "Is your teacher capable of scolding?" "Rather! You should just hear her!" "She doesn't look it." "Oh, you don't know her! She's all right in public, but she can be a Tartar in private!" A shade passed over Mr. Freeman's face. He seemed disappointed. "Oh, I don't mean Miss Aubrey!" put in Gwethyn quickly. "She's a darling. It's Mrs. Franklin I'm talking about. She's an absolutely different kind of person." "Well, I'm glad to know somebody keeps you in order, for you seem to need it," laughed Mr. Freeman. "Have you heard from your father and mother again?" "We had a letter on Sunday. They're getting on splendidly," replied Katrine. "Gwethyn, we must bolt!" [Illustration: "THE UNPLEASANT TRUTH WAS HOPELESSLY PLAIN--THEY WERE PRISONERS IN THE EMPTY HOUSE!"] With renewed thanks and a hasty good-bye to their rescuer, the girls made their exit, and tore back over the fields to Aireyholme. They did not deserve any luck, but they managed to arrive in the very nick of time, and walked into their classrooms just as the preparation bell stopped ringing. The teachers, supposing them to be in the garden, had not noticed their absence. They had agreed to keep the adventure to themselves in case it should reach the ears of the monitresses, so Gwethyn heroically refrained from relating her thrilling experience to Rose or Susie. She had learnt by this time not to trust their tongues too far. CHAPTER IX The Tennis Championship