Keep your hair on!" she shouted down to Ulyth, and began swarming up the bole of a huge old oak-tree that abutted on the wall.

She was strong and active as a boy, and had soon scrambled to where the branches forked.

A mass of twisted ivy hung here, and raising herself with its aid, she stood on an outstretched bough.
"It's ripping! I can see a little bit of the fall; I'll see it better if I get over on to that other branch." "Take care!" called Miss Moseley from below.
Rona started.

She had not known the mistress was so near.

The movement upset her decidedly unstable balance; she clutched hard at the ivy, but it gave way in her fingers; there was a sudden crash and a smothered shriek.
White as a ghost, Miss Moseley climbed the wall, expecting to find the prostrate form of her pupil on the other side.