"Oh, you don't know her like I do! She was horrid to me, and I'll just pay her out," replied the child. "All right then. Now shut up about it till to-night." With this the conspirators went down, ready to behave in an exemplary fashion at tea-time, to disarm suspicion. Margaret was tired that night in spite of her rest in the afternoon; it was a heavy, slumbrous day, thunder still threatened, and the atmosphere seemed waiting for the refreshment of a cool breeze which might, it was hoped, spring up in the night. It seemed too hot to sleep, and it was quite a long time before Morpheus closed Margaret's lids, and led her into the land of dreams. It was still dark when she was roused into semi-consciousness by something which at first her senses hardly grasped, then, as full wakefulness came to her, she became cognisant of a soft scraping noise in her room, as if someone might be in her vicinity. She was startled for a few moments, and her heart quickened its beating, as now, fully alert, she listened intently, anxious to discover the reason of the unusual sounds. This house had held many surprises for her, and she was not quite satisfied in her own mind as to the kind of post she had accepted; but Margaret Woodford was no coward, and therefore she never dreamt of screaming, or getting into a panic, although the noise, which continued at intervals, seemed to come from the ground near her, and each moment to become more distinct. Suddenly her tension ceased; she had caught the sound of muffled voices outside her room, and in an instant she realised the circumstances. Perhaps her face at that moment would have surprised the culprits outside if they could have seen the hot indignation which surged into it. She waited a little until it died down and she felt calmer, and then, as quietly and stealthily as the enemy, she crept out of bed, and, without lighting the gas, donned her dressing-gown, and, ignoring further preparation, flung the door wide open! "What are you children doing here?" she asked quietly. There was the instant flight of a small figure in white, and then Bob, who was stooping down to the floor jerking a string, the end of which issued from under the rug on the landing--Bob, with all the blood in his body seeming to be rushing to his head, rose to his feet. "Oh, you've tied that to a can under my bed, I suppose?" said Miss Woodford witheringly--"hoping to frighten me? And _this_ is the way you treat lady visitors to your home? And you call yourself a _gentleman_, I presume?" The tones were scathing--how scathing Margaret scarcely realised herself. "And with childish tricks of this kind," she continued, "you encourage your silly little sister in insubordination."