began to ascend it. A face and a pair of broad shoulders rose into
sight over the sill. They belonged to William Wright.

"I--I think, dears, we had better find some other room."

Hetty had sprung up and felt herself shaking from head to foot.
For the moment he was not looking in, but stood at the top of the
ladder with his head thrown back, craning for a view of the
water-trough under the eaves.

"About two feet to the right," he called to someone below. "No use
shifting the ladder; 'twon't reach. Stay a minute, though--I don't
believe 'tis a leak at all. Here--"

He felt the closed window with the palm of his hand, then peered
through it into the room; and his eyes and Hetty's met.

"Well, I do declare! Good morning, miss: 'tis like fate, the way I
keep running across you. Now would you be so kind as to lift the
latch on your side and push the window gently? The frame opens
outwards and I want to steady myself by it."

She obeyed, and was turning haughtily to follow the children when
George, who loitered in the doorway watching, called out:

"Is he coming into the room, Miss Wesley?"

She glanced over her shoulder and halted. The man clearly did not
mean to enter, but had scrambled up to the sill, and balanced himself
there gripping the window-frame and leaning outwards at an angle
which made her giddy. The sill was narrow, too, and sloping.
She caught her breath, not daring to move.

He seemed to hear her, for he answered jocularly: "'Tis to be hoped
the hinges are strong--eh, missy?--or there's an end of William
Wright."

"Do, please, be careful!"

"What's that to you? You hate me bad enough. Look here--send the
child out of the room and give me a push: a little one'd do, and
you'll never get a better chance."

Still she held her breath; and he went on, gazing upwards and
apparently speaking to the eaves.

"Not worth it, I suppose you'll say?--Don't you make too sure.
Now if I can get my fingers over the launder, here--" He worked his
way to the right, to the very edge of the sill, and reached sideways
and upwards, raising himself higher and higher on tip-toe. Hetty
heard a warning grunted from below.

"No use," he announced. "I can't reach it by six inches."

"What are you trying to do?" Hetty asked in a low voice, with a hand
over her heart.

"Why, there's a choke here--dead leaves or something--and the
roof-water's running down the side of the house."

She glanced hurriedly