alised amaze on finding the road barricaded by
two stout lines of string.

His strictures were strong and to the point, and though he finally
consented to drive over the hastily lowered line, he departed shaking
his whip in an ominous manner, and murmuring darkly concerning police.

"On to the wall, John. Quick! Climb up and ease it over. If we don't
get it up in a jiffy we shall have the bobbies after us!" cried Harry
frantically, whereupon John doubled back into his own garden, and by
perilous graspings of ivy trunks and projecting bricks scaled to the top
and eased the line from its grip.

"Right-ho!" he cried, lifting his face to the opposite window. "Pull,
Russell! _pull_ for your life!"

Russell pulled; a second time the double thread rose in the air. Darsie
jumped with excitement; Lavender clasped her hands, all white and tense
with suspense, plain Hannah ran to and fro, emitting short, staccato
croaks of delight; Harry stood in manly calm, arms akimbo, a beam of
satisfaction broadening his face. That smile, alas! gave the last touch
of exasperation to the watching Cads. To stand still and behold the
line vanishing into space had been in itself an ordeal, but Harry's
lordly air, his strut, his smile--these were beyond their endurance!
With a rallying shout of battle they plunged forward, grabbed at the
ascending cord, hung for a dizzy moment suspended on its length, then
with a final cheer felt it snap in twain and drag limply along the
ground.

Alas for Harry and for John--what could they do, two men alone, against
a dozen? The girls screamed, declaimed, vowed shrill revenge, but in
the matter of practical force were worse than useless. Even with
Russell's aid the forces were hopelessly uneven. Harry stood looking on
gloomily while the Cads, chortling with triumph, galloped down the road,
trailing behind them the long lengths of cord; then, like a true
Englishman, being half-beaten, he set his teeth and vowed to conquer, or
to die.

"They think we're sold, but they'll find their mistake! We'll get up at
five on Monday morning and have the thing in working trig before they
have opened their silly eyes."

This programme being duly enacted, the telegraph stations remained for
years as an outward and visible sign of the only piece of work which
Harry Garnett was ever known to accomplish before the hour of his
belated breakfast.

CHAPTER THREE.

AUNT MARIA.

Among the crowd of relations n