A Patriotic Schoolgirl

 BLACKIE & SON LIMITED 50 Old Bailey, LONDON 17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW

 BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY

 BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED 1118 Bay Street, TORONTO

 A Patriotic Schoolgirl

 BY

 ANGELA BRAZIL

 Author of "Schoolgirl Kitty" "The Luckiest Girl in the School" "Monitress Merle" &c. &c. 

 _Illustrated by Balliol Salmon_

 BLACKIE & SON LIMITED LONDON AND GLASGOW

Contents

 CHAP. Page

 I. OFF TO BOARDING-SCHOOL 9

 II. BRACKENFIELD COLLEGE 23

 III. THE TALENTS TOURNAMENT 32

 IV. EXEATS 45

 V. AUTOGRAPHS 58

 VI. TROUBLE 67

 VII. DORMITORY NO. 9 79

 VIII. A SENSATION 91

 IX. ST. ETHELBERTA'S 98

 X. THE RED CROSS HOSPITAL 106

 XI. A STOLEN MEETING 119

 XII. THE SCHOOL UNION 129

 XIII. THE SPRING TERM 140

 XIV. THE SECRET SOCIETY OF PATRIOTS 151

 XV. THE EMPRESS 163

 XVI. THE OBSERVATORY WINDOW 175

 XVII. THE DANCE OF THE NATIONS 183

 XVIII. ENCHANTED GROUND 195

 XIX. A POTATO WALK 208

 XX. PATRIOTIC GARDENING 222

 XXI. THE ROLL OF HONOUR 231

 XXII. THE MAGIC LANTERN 244

 XXIII. ON LEAVE 255

 XXIV. THE ROYAL GEORGE 264

 XXV. CHARADES 276

Illustrations

 Facing Page

 "IF YOU WANT THE EUSTON EXPRESS, YOU'LL HAVE TO MAKE A RUN FOR IT" _Frontispiece_

 THEY WERE HUDDLED TOGETHER, WATCHING HER WITH AWESTRUCK FACES 96

 THEN SOMEHOW MARJORIE FOUND HERSELF BLURTING OUT THE ENTIRE STORY 168

 SHE STARED AT IT IN CONSTERNATION 280

A Patriotic Schoolgirl

CHAPTER I

Off to Boarding-school

"Dona, are you awake? Donakins! I say, old sport, do stir yourself andblink an eye! What a dormouse you are! D'you want shaking? Rouse up, youold bluebottle, can't you?"

"I've been awake since five o'clock, and it's no use thumping me in theback, " grunted an injured voice from the next bed. "It's too early yetto get up, and I wish you'd leave me alone. "

The huskiness and general chokiness of the tone were unmistakable. Marjorie leaned over and took a keen survey of that portion of hersister's face which was not buried in the pillow. 

"Oh! the atmosphere's damp, is it?" she remarked. "Dona, you'reostriching! For goodness' sake brace up, child, and turn off thewater-works! I thought you'd more pluck. If you're going to arrive atBrackenfield with a red nose and your eyes all bunged up, I'll disownyou, or lose you on the way. Crystal clear, I will! I'll not let youstart in a new school nicknamed 'Niobe', so there! Have a caramel?"

Dona sat up in bed, and arrested her tears sufficiently to accept thecreature comfort offered her. As its consistency was decidedly of astick-jaw nature, the mingled sucking and sobbing which followedproduced a queer combination. 

"You sound like a seal at the Zoo, " Marjorie assured her airily. "Cheeroh! I call it a stunt to be going to Brackenfield. I mean to have atop-hole time there, and no mistake!"

"It's all very well for you!" sighed Dona dolefully. "You've been at aboarding-school before, and I haven't; and you are not shy, and youalways get on with people. You know I'm a mum mouse, and I hatestrangers. I shall just endure till the holidays come. It's no usetelling me to brace up, for there's nothing to brace about. "

In the bedroom where the two girls lay talking every preparation hadbeen made for a journey. Two new trunks, painted respectively with theinitials "M. D. A. " and "D. E. A. ", stood side by side with the lidsopen, filled to the brim, except for sponge-bags and a few other items, which must be put in at the last. Weeks of concentrated thought andpractical work on the part of Mother, two aunts, and a dressmaker hadpreceded the packing of those boxes, for the requirements ofBrackenfield seemed numerous, and the list of essential garmentsresembled a trousseau. There were school skirts and blouses, gymnasiumcostumes, Sunday dresses, evening wear and party frocks, to say nothingof underclothes, and such details as gloves, shoes, ties, ribbons, andhandkerchiefs, writing-cases, work-baskets, books, photos, andknick-knacks. Two hand-bags, each containing necessaries for the firstnight, stood by the trunks, and two umbrellas, with two hockey-sticks, were already strapped up with mackintoshes and winter coats. 

For both the girls this morning would make a new and very importantchapter in the story of their lives. Marjorie had, indeed, already beenat boarding-school, but it was a comparatively small establishment, notto be named in the same breath with a place so important asBrackenfield, and giving only a foretaste of those experiences which sheexpected to encounter in a wider circle. She had been tolerably popularat Hilton House, but she had made several mistakes which she wasdetermined not to repeat, and meant to be careful as to the firstimpressions which she produced upon her new schoolfellows. Marjorie, atfifteen and a half, was a somewhat problematical character. In herchildhood she had been aptly described as "a little madam", and it wasowing to the very turbulent effect of her presence in the family thatshe had been packed off early to school, "to find her level among othergirls, and leave a little peace at home", as Aunt Vera expressed it. "Finding one's level" is generally rather a stormy process; so, afterfour years of give-and-take at Hilton House, Marjorie was, on the whole, not at all sorry to leave, and transfer her energies to another sphere. She meant well, but she was always cock-sure that she was right, andthough this line of action may serve with weaker characters, it isliable to cause friction when practised upon equals or elders whoseviews are also self-opinionated. As regards looks, Marjorie could score. Her clear-cut features, fresh complexion, and frank, grey eyes weredecidedly prepossessing, and her pigtail had been the longest andthickest and glossiest in the whole crocodile of Hilton House. She wasclever, if she chose to work, though apt to argue with her teachers; andkeen at games, if she could win, but showed an unsporting tendency tolose her temper if the odds were against her. Such was Marjorie--crude, impetuous, and full of overflowing spirits, with many good qualities andcertain disagreeable traits, eager to loose anchor and sail away fromthe harbour of home and the narrow waters of Hilton House into the big, untried sea of Brackenfield College. 

Two sisters surely never presented a greater contrast than the Andersongirls. Dona, at thirteen, was a shy, retiring, amiable little person, with an unashamed weakness for golliwogs and Teddy bears, specimens ofwhich, in various sizes, decorated the mantelpiece of her bedroom. Shewas accustomed to give way, under plaintive protest, to Marjorie'smasterful disposition, and, as a rule, played second fiddle with a goodgrace. She was not at all clever or imaginative, but very affectionate, and had been the pet of the family at home. She was a neat, prettylittle thing, with big blue eyes and arched eyebrows and silky curls, exactly like a Sir Joshua Reynolds portrait, and she had a pathetic wayof saying, "Oh, Marjorie!" when snubbed by her elder sister. Accordingto Aunt Vera, if Marjorie needed to "find her level", Dona required tobe "well shaken up". She was dreamy and unobservant, slow in her ways, and not much interested in any special subject. Marjorie's cherishedambitions were unknown to Dona, who liked to plod along in an easyfashion, without taking very much trouble. Her daily governess had foundit difficult to rouse any enthusiasm in her for her work. She franklyhated lessons. 

It was a subject of congratulation to Mrs. Anderson that the two girlswould not be in the same house at Brackenfield. She considered thatDona's character had no chance for development under the shadow ofMarjorie's overbearing ways, and that among companions of her own ageshe might perhaps find a few congenial friends who would help her torealize that she had entered her teens, and would interest her ingirlish matters. Poor Dona by no means shared her mother's satisfactionat the arrangements for her future. She would have preferred to be withMarjorie, and was appalled at the idea of being obliged to face ahouseful of strangers. She met with little sympathy from her own familyin this respect. 

"Do you all the good in the world, old sport!" preached Peter, anauthority of eleven, with three years of preparatory-school experiencebehind him. "I felt a bit queer myself, you know, when I first went toThe Grange, but one soon gets over that. You'll shake down. "

"I don't want to shake down, " bleated Dona. "It's a shame I should haveto go at all! You can't any of you understand how I feel. You're allbeasts!"

"They'll allow you a bucket to weep into for the first day or two, poorold Bunting!" said Larry consolingly. "It won't be so much kindness ontheir part as a desire to save the carpets--salt water takes the colourout of things so. But I fancy they'll limit you to a week's wailing, andif you don't turn off the tap after that, they'll send for a doctor, who'll prescribe Turkey rhubarb and senna mixed with quinine. It's astock school prescription for shirking; harmless, you know, butparticularly nasty; you'd have the taste in your mouth for days. Oh, cheer up, for goodness' sake! Look here: if I'm really sent to the campat Denley, I'll come and look you up, and take you out to tea somewhere. How would that suit your ladyship?"

"Would you really? Will you promise?"

"Honest Injun, I will!"

"Then I don't mind quite so much as I did, though I still hate thethought of school, " conceded Dona. 

The Andersons generally described themselves as "a large and ramblingfamily, guaranteed sound, and quiet in harness, but capable of takingfences if required". Nora, the eldest, had been married a year ago, Bevis was in the Navy, Leonard was serving "somewhere in France"; Larry, who had just left school, had been called up, and was going intotraining, and after Marjorie and Dona followed Peter, Cyril, and Joan. Marjorie and Dona always declared that if they could have been consultedin the matter of precedence, they would not have chosen to arrive in theexact centre of a big family. Nora, as eldest, and Joan, as youngest, occupied definite and recognized positions, but middle girls rarelyreceive as much attention. Dona, indeed, had claimed a certain share ofpetting, but Marjorie considered herself badly treated by the Fates. 

"I wish I were the only one!" she assured the others. "Think how I'd beappreciated then!"

"We'll swop you with pleasure, madam, if you wish, " returned Larryironically. "I should suggest an advertisement such as this: 'Wantedsituation as only daughter in eligible family, eight brothers andsisters given in exchange. A month's approval. ' No! Better not put thatin, or they'd send you packing back at the end of the first week. "

"Brothers are beasts!" pouted Marjorie, throwing a cushion at Larry toexpress her indignation. "What I'd like would be for Mother to take meaway for a year, or let me study Art, or Music, or something, just withher. Mamie Page's mother went with her to Paris, and they'd a gorgeoustime. That's my ambition. "

"And mine's just to be allowed to stop at home, " added Dona plaintively. 

Neither Marjorie's nor Dona's wishes, however, were considered athead-quarters. The powers that be had decided that they were to beeducated at Brackenfield College, their boxes were ready packed, andtheir train was to leave at nine o'clock by railway time. Mother sawthem off at the station. 

"I wish I could have taken you, " she said rather anxiously. "But I thinkyou'll manage the journey all right. You're both together, andMarjorie's a big girl now, and used to travelling. You've only to crossthe platform at Rosebury to get the London train, and a teacher is tomeet you at Euston. You'll know her by the Brackenfield badge, and besure you don't speak to anyone else. Call out of the window for a porterwhen you reach Rosebury. You've plenty of time to change. Well, good-bye, chicks! Be good girls. Don't forget to send me that telegramfrom Euston. Write as soon as you can. Don't lean against the door ofthe carriage. You're just off now! Good-bye! Good-bye!"

As the train steamed out of the station, Dona sank into her place withthe air of a martyr starting for the stake, and mopped her eyes with heralready damp pocket-handkerchief. Marjorie, case-hardened after manysimilar partings, settled herself in the next seat, and, pulling out anillustrated paper from her bag, began to read. The train was very full, and the girls had with difficulty found room. Soldiers on leave werereturning to the front, and filled the corridor. Dona and Marjorie werecrammed in between a stout woman, who nursed a basket containing amewing kitten, and a wizened little man with an irritating cough. Opposite sat three Tommies, and an elderly lady with a long thin noseand prominent teeth, who entered into conversation with the soldiers, and proffered them much good advice, with an epitome of her ideas on theconduct of the war. The distance from Silverwood to Rosebury was onlythirty miles, and the train was due to arrive at the junction withtwenty-five minutes to spare for the London express. On all ordinaryoccasions it jogged along in a commonplace fashion, and turned up up totime. To-day, however, it behaved with unusual eccentricity, and, instead of passing the signals at Meriton, it slowed up and whistled, and finally stood still upon the bridge. 

"Must be something blocking the line, " observed one of the Tommies, looking out of the window. 

"I do hope it's not an accident. The Company is so terribly understaffedat present, and the signal-men work far too long hours, and are ready todrop with fatigue at their posts, " began the thin lady nervously. "I'vealways had a horror of railway accidents. I wish I'd taken an insuranceticket before I started. Can you see anything on the line, my good man?Is there any danger?"

The Tommy drew in his head and smiled. It was a particularlygood-looking head, with twinkling brown eyes, and a very humorous smile. 

"Not so long as the train is standing still, " he replied. "I thinkthey'll get us back to the front this time. We'll probably have to waittill something passes us. It's just a matter of patience. "

His words were justified, for in about ten minutes an express roaredby, after which event their train once more started, and jogged along toRosebury. 

"We're horribly late!" whispered Marjorie to Dona, consulting her watch. "I hope to goodness there'll be no more stops. It's running the thingvery fine, I can tell you. I'm glad we've only to cross the platform. I'll get a porter as fast as I can. "

But, when they reached Rosebury, the stout woman and the basket with thekitten got in the way, and the elderly lady jammed up the door with herhold-all, so that, by the time Dona and Marjorie managed to getthemselves and their belongings out of the carriage, the very fewporters available had already been commandeered by other people. Thegirls ran to the van at the back of the train, where the guard wasturning out the luggage. Their boxes were on the platform amid a pile ofsuit-cases, bags, and portmanteaux; their extreme newness made themeasily recognizable, even without the conspicuous initials. 

"What are we to do?" cried Marjorie. "We'll miss the London train! Iknow we shall! Here, Dona, let's take them ourselves!"

She seized one of the boxes by the handle, and tried to drag it alongthe platform, but its weight was prohibitive. After a couple of yardsshe stopped exhausted. 

"Better leave your luggage and let it follow you, " said a voice at herelbow. "If you want the Euston express, you'll have to make a run forit. "

Marjorie turned round quickly. The speaker was the young Tommy who hadleaned out of the carriage window when the line was blocked. His darkeyes were still twinkling. 

"The train's over there, and they're shutting the doors, " he urged. "Here, I'll take this for you, if you like. Best hurry up!"

He had his heavy kit-bag to carry, but he shouldered the girls' pile ofwraps, umbrellas, and hockey-sticks, in addition to his own burden, andset off post-haste along the platform, while Marjorie and Dona, muchencumbered with their bags and a few odd parcels, followed in his wake. It was a difficult progress, for everybody seemed to get into their way, and just as they neared the express the guard waved his green flag. 

"Stand back! Stand back!" shouted an official, as the girls made a lastwild spurt, the whistle sounded, the guard jumped into the van, and, with a loud clanging of coupling-chains, the train started. They hadmissed it by exactly five seconds. 

"Hard luck!" said the Tommy, depositing the wraps upon the platform. "You'll have to wait two hours for the next. You'll get your luggage, atany rate. Oh, it's all right!" as Marjorie murmured thanks, "I'm onlysorry you've missed it, " and he hailed a companion and was gone. 

"It was awfully kind of him, " commented Dona, still panting from herrun. 

"Kind! He's a gentleman--there was no mistaking that!" replied Marjorie. 

The two girls had now to face the very unpleasant fact that they hadmissed the connection, and that the teacher who was to meet them atEuston would look for them in vain. They wondered whether she would waitfor the next train, and, if she did not, how they were going to getacross London to the Great Western railway station. Marjorie felt verydoubtful as to whether her experience of travelling would be equal tothe emergency. She hid her fears, however, from Dona, whose countenancewas quite sufficiently woebegone already. 

"We'll get chocolates out of the automatic machine, and buy something toread at the bookstall, " she suggested. "Two hours won't last for ever!"

Dona cheered up a little at the sight of magazines, and picked out aperiodical with a soldier upon the cover. Marjorie, whose taste inliterature inclined to the sensational, reviewed the books, and choseone with a startling picture depicting a phantom in the act ofdisturbing a dinner-party. She was too agitated to read more than a fewpages of it, but she thought it seemed interesting. The two hours wereover at last, and the girls and their luggage were safely installed inthe London train by a porter. It was a long journey to Euston. Aftertheir early start and the excitement at Rosebury both felt tired, andeven Marjorie looked decidedly sober when they reached theirdestination. Each was wearing the brown-white-and-blue Brackenfieldbadge, which had been forwarded to them from the school, and by whichthe mistress was to identify them. As they left the carriage, theyglanced anxiously at the coat of each lady who passed them on theplatform, to descry a similar rosette. All in vain. Everybody was in ahurry, and nobody sported the Brackenfield colours. 

"We shall have to get a taxi and manage as best we can, " sighedMarjorie. "I wish the porters weren't so stupid! I can't make themlisten to me. The taxis will all be taken up if we're not quick! Oh, Isay, there's that Tommy again! I wonder if he'd hail us one. I declareI'll ask him. "

"Hail you a taxi? With pleasure!" replied the young soldier, as Marjorieimpulsively stopped him and urged her request. "Have you got yourluggage this time?"

"Yes, yes, it's all here, and we've found a porter, only he's so slow, and----"

"Are you Marjorie and Dona Anderson?" interrupted a sharp voice. "I'vebeen looking for you everywhere. Who is this you're speaking to? _Youdon't know?_ Then come along with me immediately. No, certainly not!I'll get a taxi myself. Where is your luggage?"

The speaker was tall and fair, with light-grey eyes and pince-nez. Shewore the unmistakable Brackenfield badge, so her words carriedauthority. She bustled the girls off in a tremendous hurry, and theirgood Samaritan of a soldier melted away amongst the crowd. 

"I've been waiting hours for you. How did you miss your train?" askedthe mistress. "Why didn't you go and stand under the clock, as you weretold in the Head Mistress's letter? And don't you know that you must_never_ address strangers?"

"She's angry with you for speaking to the Tommy, " whispered Dona toMarjorie, as the pair followed their new guardian. 

"I can't help it. He would have got us a taxi, and now they're all gone, and we must put up with a four-wheeler. I couldn't see any clock, and nowonder we missed her in such a crowd. I think she's hateful, and I'm notgoing to like her a scrap. "

"No more am I, " returned Dona. 

CHAPTER II

Brackenfield College

Brackenfield College stood on the hills, about a mile from theseaside town of Whitecliffe. It had been built for a school, andwas large and modern and entirely up-to-date. It had a gymnasium, a library, a studio, a chemical laboratory, a carpentering-shop, a kitchen for cooking-classes, a special block for music andpractising-rooms, and a large assembly hall. Outside there weremany acres of lawns and playing-fields, a large vegetable garden, and a little wood with a stream running through it. The girls livedin three hostels--for Seniors, Intermediates, and Juniors--knownrespectively as St. Githa's, St. Elgiva's, and St. Ethelberta's. They met in school and in the playgrounds, but, with a few exceptions, they were not allowed to visit each other's houses. 

Marjorie and Dona had been separated on their arrival, the former beingentered at St. Elgiva's and the latter at St. Ethelberta's, and it wasnot until the afternoon of the day following that they had anopportunity of meeting and comparing notes. To both life had seemed abreathless and confusing whirl of classes, meals, and calisthenicexercises, with a continual ringing of bells and marching from one roomto another. It was a comfort at last to have half an hour when theymight be allowed to wander about and do as they pleased. 

"Let's scoot into that little wood, " said Marjorie, seizing Dona by thearm. "It looks quiet, and we can sit down and talk. Well, how are yougetting on? D'you like it so far?"

Dona flung herself down under a larch tree and shook her headtragically. 

"I hate it! But then, you know, I never expected to like it. You shouldsee my room-mates!"

"You should just see mine!"

"They can't be as bad as mine. "

"I'll guarantee they're worse. But go on and tell about yours. "

"There's Mona Kenworthy, " sighed Dona. "She looked over all my clothesas I put them away in my drawers, and said they weren't as nice as hers, and that she'd never dream of wearing a camisole unless it was trimmedwith real lace. She twists her hair in Hinde's wavers every night, andkeeps a pot of complexion cream on her dressing-table. She always usesstephanotis scent that she gets from one special place in London, and itcosts four and sixpence a bottle. She hates bacon for breakfast, and shehas seventeen relations at the front. She's thin and brown, and her nosewiggles like a rabbit's when she talks. "

"I shouldn't mind her if she'd keep to her own cubicle, " commentedMarjorie. "Sylvia Page will overflow into mine, and I find her thingsdumped down on my bed. She's nicer than Irene Andrews, though; we had asquabble last night over the window. Betty Moore brought a whole box ofchocolates with her, and she ate them in bed and never offered a singleone to anybody else. We could hear her crunching for ages. I don't likeIrene, but I agreed with her that Betty is mean!"

"Nellie Mason sleeps in the next cubicle to me, " continued Dona, bent onretailing her own woes. "She snores dreadfully, and it kept me awake, though she's not so bad otherwise. Beatrice Elliot is detestable. Shefound that little Teddy bear I brought with me, and she sniggered andasked if I came from a kindergarten. I've calculated there areseventy-four days in this term. I don't know how I'm going to livethrough them until the holidays. "

"Hallo!" said a cheerful voice. "Sitting weeping under the willows, areyou? New girls always grouse. Miss Broadway's sent me to hunt you up anddo the honours of the premises. I'm Mollie Simpson. Come along with meand I'll show you round. "

The speaker was a jolly-looking girl of about sixteen, with particularlymerry blue eyes and a whimsical expression. Her dark curly hair wasplaited and tied with broad ribbons. 

"We've been round, thanks very much, " returned Marjorie to thenew-comer. 

"Oh, but that doesn't count if you've only gone by yourselves! Youwouldn't notice the points. Every new girl has got to be personallyconducted by an old one and told the traditions of the place. It's asort of initiation, you know. We've a regular freemasons' code here ofthings you may do or mustn't. Quick march! I've no time to waste. Tea isat four prompt. "

Thus urged, Marjorie and Dona got up, shook the pine needles from theirdresses, and followed their cicerone, who seemed determined to performher office of guide in as efficient a fashion as possible. 

"This is the Quad, " she informed them. "That's the Assembly Hall and theHead's private house, and those are the three hostels. What's it like inSt. Githa's? I can't tell you, because I've never been there. It's forSeniors, and no Intermediate or Junior may pop her impertinent noseinside, or so much as go and peep through the windows without gettinginto trouble. They've carpets on the stairs instead of linoleum, andthey may make cocoa in their bedrooms and fill their own hot-water bags, and other privileges that aren't allowed to us luckless individuals. They may come and see us, by special permission, but we mayn't returnthe visits. By the by, you'd oblige me greatly if you'd tilt yourchapeau a little farther forward. Like this, see!"

"Why?" questioned Marjorie, greatly astonished, as she made the requiredalteration to the angle of her hat. 

"Because only Seniors may wear their sailors on the backs of theirheads. It's a strict point of school etiquette. You may jam on yourhockey cap as you like, but not your sailor. "

"Are there any other rules?" asked Dona. 

"Heaps. Intermediates mayn't wear bracelets, and Juniors mayn't wearlockets, they're limited to brooches. I advise you to strip thosetrinkets off at once and stick them in your pockets. Don't go in to teawith them on any account. "

"How silly!" objected Dona, unclasping her locket, with Father's photoin it, most unwillingly. 

"Now, look here, young 'un, let me give you a word of good advice at thebeginning. Don't you go saying anything here is silly. The rules havebeen made by the Seniors, and Juniors have got to put up with them andkeep civil tongues in their heads. If you want to get on you'll have toaccommodate yourself to the ways of the place. Any girl who doesn't hasa rough time, I warn you. For goodness' sake don't begin to blub!"

"Don't be a cry-baby, Dona, " said Marjorie impatiently. "She's not beento school before, " she explained to Mollie, "so she's still feelingrather home-sick. "

Mollie nodded sympathetically. 

"I understand. She'll soon get over it. She's a decent kid. I'm going tolike her. That's why I'm giving her all these tips, so that she won'tmake mistakes and begin wrong. She'll get on all right at St. Ethelberta's. Miss Jones is a stunt, as jinky as you like. Wish we hadher at our house. "

"Who is the Head of St. Elgiva's?"

"Miss Norton, worse luck for us!"

"Not the tall fair one who met us in London yesterday?"

"The same. "

"Oh, thunder! I shall never get on with her, I know. "

"The Acid Drop's a rather unsweetened morsel, certainly. You'll have tomind your p's and q's. She can be decent to those she likes, but shedoesn't take to everybody. "

"She hasn't taken to me--I could see it in her eye at Euston. "

"Then I'm sorry for you. It isn't particularly pleasant to be in Norty'sbad books. If you missed your train and kept her waiting she'll neverforgive you. Look out for squalls!"

"What's the Head like?"

"Mrs. Morrison? Well, of course, she's nice, but we stand very much inawe of her. It's a terrible thing to be sent down to her study. Wegenerally see her on the platform. We call her 'The Empress', becauseshe's so like the pictures of the Empress Eugénie, and she's sodignified and above everybody else. Hallo, there's the first bell! Wemust scoot and wash our hands. If you're late for a meal you put a pennyin the missionary box. "

Marjorie walked into the large dining-hall with Mollie Simpson. She feltshe had made, if not yet a friend, at least an acquaintance, and in thiswilderness of fresh faces it was a boon to be able to speak to somebody. She hoped Mollie would not desert her and sit among her own chums (thegirls took any places they liked for tea); but no, her new comrade ledthe way to a table at the lower end of the hall, and, motioning her topass first, took the next chair. Each table held about twenty girls, anda mistress sat at either end. Conversation went on, but in subduedtones, and any unduly lifted voices met with instant reproof. 

"I always try to sit in the middle, unless I can get near a mistress Ilike, " volunteered Mollie. "That one with the ripply hair is MissDuckworth. She's rather sweet, isn't she? We call her Ducky for short. The other's Miss Carter, the botany teacher. Oh, I say, here's the AcidDrop coming to the next table! I didn't bargain to have her so near. "

Marjorie turned to look, and in so doing her sleeve most unfortunatelycaught the edge of her cup, with the result that a stream of tea emptieditself over the clean table-cloth. Miss Norton, who was just passing toher place, noticed the accident and murmured: "How careless!" thenpaused, as if remembering something, and said:

"Marjorie Anderson, you are to report yourself in my study at 4. 30. "

Very subdued and crestfallen Marjorie handed her cup to be refilled. Miss Duckworth made no remark, but the girls in her vicinity glared atthe mess on the cloth. Mollie pulled an expressive face. 

"Now you're in for it!" she remarked. "The Acid Drop's going to treatyou to some jaw-wag. What have you been doing?"

"Spilling my tea, I suppose, " grunted Marjorie. 

"That's not Norty's business, for it didn't happen at her table. Youwouldn't have to report yourself for that. It must be something else. "

"Then I'm sure I don't know. " Marjorie's tone was defiant. 

"And you don't care? Oh, that's all very well! Wait till you've had fiveminutes with the Acid Drop, and you'll sing a different song. "

Although Marjorie might affect nonchalance before her schoolfellows, herheart thumped in a very unpleasant fashion as she tapped at the door ofMiss Norton's study. The teacher sat at a bureau writing, she looked upand readjusted her pince-nez as her pupil entered. 

"Marjorie Anderson, " she began, "I inspected your cubicle this afternoonand found this book inside one of your drawers. Are you aware that youhave broken one of the strictest rules of the school? You may borrowbooks from the library, but you are not allowed to have any privatebooks at all in your possession with the exception of a Bible and aPrayer Book. "

Miss Norton held in her hand the sensational novel which Marjorie hadbought while waiting for the train at Rosebury. The girl jumped guiltilyat the sight of it. She had only read a few pages of it and hadcompletely forgotten its existence. She remembered now that among therules sent by the Head Mistress, and read to her by her mother, thebringing back of fiction to school had been strictly prohibited. As shehad no excuse to offer she merely looked uncomfortable and saidnothing. Miss Norton eyed her keenly. 

"You will find the rules at Brackenfield are intended to be kept, " sheremarked. "As this is a first offence I'll allow it to pass, but girlshave been expelled from this school for bringing in unsuitableliterature. You had better be careful, Marjorie Anderson!"

CHAPTER III

The Talents Tournament

By the time Marjorie had been a fortnight at Brackenfield she hadalready caught the atmosphere of the place, and considered herself awell-established member of the community. In the brief space of twoweeks she had learnt many things; first and foremost, that Hilton Househad been a mere kindergarten in comparison with the big busy world inwhich she now moved, and that all her standards required readjusting. Instead of being an elder pupil, with a considerable voice in thearrangement of affairs, she was now only an Intermediate, under theabsolute authority of Seniors, a unit in a large army of girls, and, except from her own point of view, of no very great importance. If shewished to make any reputation for herself her claims must rest uponwhether or not she could prove herself an asset to the school, either byobtaining a high place in her form, or winning distinction in theplaying-fields, or among the various guilds and societies. Marjorie wasdecidedly ambitious. She felt that she would like to gain honours and tohave her name recorded in the school magazine. Dazzling dreams dancedbefore her of tennis or cricket colours, of solos in concerts, orleading parts in dramatic recitals, of heading examination lists, and--who knew?--of a possible prefectship some time in the far future. Meanwhile, if she wished to attain to any of these desirable objects, Work, with a capital W, must be her motto. She had been placed in IVa, and, though most of the subjects were within her powers, it needed allthe concentration of which she was capable to keep even a moderateposition in the weekly lists. Miss Duckworth, her form mistress, had notolerance for slackers. She was a breezy, cheery, interestingpersonality, an inspiring teacher, and excellent at games, taking aprominent part in all matches or tournaments "Mistresses versus Pupils". Miss Duckworth was immensely popular amongst her girls. It was thefashion to admire her. 

"I think the shape of her nose is just perfect!" declared FrancieSheppard. "And I like that Rossetti mouth, although some people mightsay it's too big. I wish I had auburn hair!"

"I wonder if it ripples naturally, or if she does it up in wavers?"speculated Elsie Bartlett. "It must be ever so long when it's down. Annie Turner saw her once in her dressing-gown, and said that her hairreached to her knees. "

"But Annie always exaggerates, " put in Sylvia Page. "You may take half ayard off Annie's statements any day. "

"I think Duckie's a sport!" agreed Laura Norris. 

The girls were lounging in various attitudes of comfort round the firein their sitting-room at St. Elgiva's, in that blissful interval betweenpreparation and supper, when nothing very intellectual was expected fromthem, and they might amuse themselves as they wished. Irene, squattingon the rug, was armed with the tongs, and kept poking down the miniaturevolcanoes that arose in the coal; Elsie luxuriated in the rocking-chairall to herself; while Francie and Sylvia--a tight fit--shared the bigbasket-chair. In a corner three chums were coaching each other in thespeeches for a play, and a group collected round the piano were tryingthe chorus of a new popular song. 

"Go it, Patricia!" called Irene to the girl who was playing theaccompaniment. "You did that no end! St. Elgiva's ought to have a chancefor the sight-reading competition. Trot out that song to-morrow night byall means. It'll take the house by storm!"

"What's going to happen to-morrow night?" enquired Marjorie, who, havingchanged her dress for supper, now came into the room and joined thecircle by the fire. 

"A very important event, my good child, " vouchsafed FrancieSheppard--"an event upon which you might almost say all the rest of theschool year hangs. We call it the Talents Tournament. "

"The what?"

"I wish you wouldn't ask so many questions. I was just going to explain, if you'll give me time. The whole school meets in the Assembly Hall, and anybody who feels she can do anything may give us a specimen of hertalents, and if she passes muster she's allowed to join one of thesocieties--the Dramatic, or the Part Singing, or the Orchestra, or theFrench Conversational; or she may exhibit specimens if she wants toenter the Natural History or Scientific, or show some of her drawings ifshe's artistic. "

"What are you going to do?"

"I? Nothing at all. I hate showing off!"

"I've no 'parlour tricks' either, " yawned Laura. "I shall help to formthe audience and do the clapping; that's the rôle I'm best at. "

"Old Mollie'll put you up to tips if you're yearning to go on theplatform, " suggested Elsie. "She's A 1 at recitations, reels them off noend, I can tell you. You needn't hang your head, Mollums, like a modestviolet; it's a solid fact. You're the ornament of St. Elgiva's when itcomes to saying pieces. Have you got anything fresh, by the way, forto-morrow night?"

"Well, I did learn something new during the holidays, " confessed Mollie. "I hope you'll like it--it's rather funny. I hear there's to be a newsociety this term. Meg Hutchinson was telling me about it. "

"Oh, I know, the 'Charades'!" interrupted Francie; "and a jolly goodidea too. It isn't everybody who has time to swat at learning parts forthe Dramatic. Besides, some girls can do rehearsed acting well, and areno good at impromptu things, and vice versa. They want sorting out. "

"I don't understand, " said Marjorie. 

"Oh, bother you! You're always wanting explanations. Well, of course youknow we have a Dramatic Society that gets up quite elaborate plays; themembers spend ages practising their speeches and studying theirattitudes before the looking-glass, and they have gorgeous costumes madefor them, and scenery and all the rest of it--a really first-ratebusiness. Some of the prefects thought that it was rather too formal anaffair, and suggested another society for impromptu acting. Nothing isto be prepared beforehand. Mrs. Morrison is to give a word for acharade, and the members are allowed two minutes to talk it over, andmust act it right away with any costumes they can fling on out of the'property box'. They'll be arranged in teams, and may each have fiveminutes for a performance. I expect it will be a scream. "

"Are you fond of acting, Marjorie?" asked Mollie. 

"I just love it!"

"Then put down your name for the Charades Tournament. We haven't got agreat number of volunteers from St. Elgiva's yet. Most of the girls seemto funk it. Elsie, aren't you going to try?"

Elsie shook her curls regretfully. 

"I'd like to, but I know every idea I have would desert me directly Ifaced an audience. I'm all right with a definite part that I've got intomy head, but I can't make up as I go along, and it's no use asking me. I'd only bungle and stammer, and make an utter goose of myself, andspoil the whole thing. Hallo! There's the supper bell. Come along!"

Marjorie followed the others in to supper with a feeling ofexhilaration. She was immensely attracted by the idea of the TalentsTournament. So far, as a new girl, she had been little noticed, and hadhad no opportunity of showing what she could do. She had received a hintfrom Mollie, on her first day, that new girls who pushed themselvesforward would probably be met with snubs, so she had not tried the pianoin the sitting-room, or given any exhibition of her capabilitiesunasked. This, however, would be a legitimate occasion, and nobody couldaccuse her of trying to show off by merely entering her name in theCharades competition. 

"I wish Dona would play her violin and have a shy for the schoolOrchestra, " she thought. "I'll speak to her if I can catch her aftersupper. "

It was difficult for the sisters to find any time for private talk, butby dodging about the passage Marjorie managed to waylay Dona before thelatter disappeared into St. Ethelberta's, and propounded her suggestion. 

"Oh, I couldn't!" replied Dona in horror. "Go on the platform and play apiece? I'd die! Please don't ask me to do anything so dreadful. I don'twant to join the Orchestra. Oh, well, yes--I'll go in for the drawingcompetition if you like, but I'm not keen. I don't care about all thesesocieties; my lessons are quite bad enough. I've made friends with AilsaDonald, and we have lovely times all to ourselves. We're making scrapalbums for the hospital. Miss Jones has given us all her old Christmascards. She's adorable! I say, I must go, or I shall be late for our callover. Ta-ta!"

The "Talents Tournament" was really a very important event in the schoolyear, for upon its results would depend the placing of the variouscompetitors in certain coveted offices. It was esteemed a greatprivilege to be asked to join the Orchestra, and to be included in thecommittee of the "Dramatic" marked a girl's name with a lucky star. 

On the Saturday evening in question the whole school, in second-bestparty dresses, met in the big Assembly Hall. It was a conventionaloccasion, and they were received by Mrs. Morrison and the teachers, andresponded with an elaborate politeness that was the cult of the College. For the space of three hours an extremely high-toned atmosphereprevailed, not a word of slang offended the ear, and everybody behavedwith the dignity and courtesy demanded by such a stately ceremony. Mrs. Morrison, in black silk and old lace, her white hair dressed high, wasan imposing figure, and set a standard of cultured deportment that wascopied by every girl in the room. The Brackenfielders prided themselvesupon their manners, and, though they might relapse in the playground ordormitory, no Court etiquette could be stricter than their code forpublic occasions. The hall was quite _en fête_; it had been charminglydecorated by the Seniors with autumn leaves and bunches ofchrysanthemums and Michaelmas daisies. A grand piano and pots of palmsstood on the platform, and the best school banner ornamented the wall. It all looked so festive that Marjorie, who had been rather dreading thegathering, cheered up, and began to anticipate a pleasant evening. Sheshook hands composedly with the Empress, and ran the gauntlet ofgreetings with the other mistresses with equal credit, not an altogethereasy ordeal under the watching eyes of her companions. This preliminaryceremony being finished, she thankfully slipped into a seat, and waitedfor the business part of the tournament to begin. 

The reception of the whole school lasted some time, and the Empress'shand must have ached. Her mental notes as to the quality of thehandshakes she received would be publicly recorded next day from theplatform, with special condemnation for the limp, fishy, orthree-fingered variety on the one side, or the agonizing ring-squeezeron the other. Miss Thomas, one of the music mistresses, seated herselfat the piano, and the proceedings opened with a violin-solo competition. Ten girls, in more or less acute stages of nervousness, each in turnplayed a one-page study, their points for which were carefully recordedby the judges, marks being given for tone, bowing, time, tune, andartistic rendering. As they retired to put away their instruments, theirplaces were taken by vocal candidates. In order to shorten theprogramme, each was allowed to sing only one verse of a song, and theirmerits or faults were similarly recorded. Several of the Intermediateshad entered for the competition. Rose Butler trilled forth asentimental little ditty in a rather quavering mezzo; Annie Turner, whose compass was contralto, poured out a sea ballad--a trifle flat;Nora Cleary raised a storm of applause by a funny Irish song, andreceived marks for style, though her voice was poor in quality; andElsie Bartlett scored for St. Elgiva's by reaching high B with theutmost clearness and ease. The Intermediates grinned at one another withsatisfaction. Even Gladys Woodham, the acknowledged prima donna of St. Githa's, had never soared in public beyond A sharp. They felt that theyhad beaten the Seniors by half a tone. 

Piano solos were next on the list, limited to two pages, on account ofthe too speedy passage of time. Here again the St. Elgiva's girlsexpected a triumph, for Patricia Lennox was to play a waltz especiallycomposed in her honour by a musical friend. It was called "Under theStars", and bore a coloured picture of a dark-blue sky, water and trees, and a stone balustrade, and it bore printed upon it the magic words"Dedicated to Patricia", and underneath, written in a firm, manly hand, "With kindest remembrances from E. H. ". 

The whole of Elgiva's had thrilled when allowed to view the copyexhibited by its owner with many becoming blushes, but with steadfastrefusals to record tender particulars; and though Patricia's enemieswere unkind enough to say that there was no evidence that the "Patricia"mentioned on the cover was identical with herself, or that the "E. H. "stood for Edwin Herbert, the composer, it was felt that they merelyobjected out of envy, and would have been only too delighted to havesuch luck themselves. 

They all listened entranced as Patricia dashed off her piece. She had ashowy execution, and it really sounded very well. The whole school knewabout the dedication and the inscription; the Intermediates had takencare of that. As their champion descended from the platform, they feltthat she had invested St. Elgiva's with an element of mystery andromance. But alas! one story is good until another is told, and St. Githa's had been reserving a trump card for the occasion. WinifredeMason had herself composed a piece. She called it "The BrackenfieldMarch", and had written it out in manuscript, and drawn a picture of theschool in bold black-and-white upon a brown paper cover. It was quite ajolly, catchy tune, with plenty of swing and go about it, and the factthat it was undoubtedly her own production caused poor Patricia's waltzto pale before it. The clapping was tremendous. Every girl in school, with the exception of nine who had not studied the piano, was determinedto copy the march and learn it for herself, and Winifrede wasimmediately besieged with applications for the loan of the manuscript. She bore her honours calmly. 

"Oh, it wasn't difficult! I just knocked it off, you know. I've heaps oftunes in my head; it's only a matter of getting them written down, really. When I've time I'll try to make up another. Oh, I don't knowabout publishing it--that can wait. "

To live in the same school with a girl who composed pieces wassomething! Everybody anticipated the publication of the march, and feltthat the reputation of Brackenfield would be thoroughly established inthe musical world. 

The next item on the programme was an interval for refreshments, duringwhich time various exhibits of drawings and of scientific and naturalhistory specimens were on view, and were judged according to merit byMiss Carter and Miss Hughlins. 

The second part of the evening was to be dramatic. A good many names hadbeen given in for the Charades competition, and these were arranged ingroups of four. Each company was given one syllable of a charade to act, with a strict time limit. A large assortment of clothes and some usefularticles of furniture were placed in the dressing-room behind theplatform, and the actresses were allowed only two minutes to arrangetheir stage, don costumes, and discuss their piece. 

Marjorie found herself drawn with Annie Turner, Belle Miller, and VioletNelson, two of the Juniors. The syllable to be acted was "Age", and thefour girls withdrew to the dressing-room for a hasty conference. 

"What can we do? I haven't an idea in my head, " sighed Annie. "Twominutes is not enough to think. "

The Juniors said nothing, but giggled nervously. Marjorie's ready wits, however, rose to the emergency. 

"We'll have a Red Cross Hospital, " she decided. "You, Annie, are theCommandant, and we three are prospective V. A. D. 's coming to beinterviewed. You've got to ask us our names and ages, and a heap ofother questions. Put on that Red Cross apron, quick, and we'll put onhats and coats and pretend we've had a long journey. Belle, take in atable and a chair for the Commandant. She ought to be sitting writing. "

Annie, Belle, and Violet seized on the idea with enthusiasm, and robedthemselves immediately. When the bell rang the performers marched on tothe platform without any delay (which secured ten marks forpromptitude). Annie, in her Red Cross apron, rapped the table in anauthoritative fashion and demanded the business of her callers. Then thefun began. Marjorie, posing as a wild Irish girl, put on a capitalimitation of the brogue, and urged her own merits with zeal. She evadedthe question of her right age, and offered a whole catalogue of thingsshe could do, from dressing a wound to mixing a pudding and scrubbingthe passages. She was so racy and humorous, and threw in such amusingasides, that the audience shrieked with laughter, and were quitedisappointed when the five minutes' bell put a sudden and speedy end tothe interesting performance. As Marjorie walked back to her seat shebecame well aware that she had scored. Her fellow Intermediates lookedat her with a new interest, for she had brought credit to St. Elgiva's. 

"Isn't she a scream?" she overheard Rose Butler say to Francie Sheppard, and Francie replied "Rather! I call her topping!" which, of course, wasslang, and not fit for such an occasion; but then the girls werebeginning to forget the elaborate ceremony of the opening of theevening. 

Next day, after morning school was over, Jean Everard, one of theprefects, tapped Marjorie on the shoulder. 

"We've put your name down for the Charades Society, " she said briefly. "I suppose you want to join?"

"Rather!" replied Marjorie, flushing to the roots of her hair withdelight at the honour offered her. 

CHAPTER IV

Exeats

Marjorie and Dona possessed one immense advantage in their choice of aschool. Their aunt, Mrs. Trafford, lived within a mile of Brackenfield, and had arranged with Mrs. Morrison that the two girls should spendevery alternate Wednesday afternoon at her house. Wednesday was the mostgeneral day for exeats; it was the leisurely half-holiday of the week, when the girls might carry out their own little plans, Saturdayafternoons being reserved for hockey practice and matches, at which allwere expected to attend. The rules were strict at Brackenfield, andenacted that the girls must be escorted from school to their destinationand sent back under proper chaperonage, but during the hours spent attheir aunt's they were considered to be under her charge and might gowhere she allowed. 

To the sisters these fortnightly outings marked the term with whitestones. They looked forward to them immensely. Both chafed a little atthe strict discipline and confinement of Brackenfield. It was Dona'sfirst experience of school, and Marjorie had been accustomed to a mucheasier régime at Hilton House. It was nice, also, to have a few hoursin which they could be together and talk over their own affairs. Therewere home letters to be discussed, news of Bevis on board H. M. S. _Relentless_, of Leonard in the trenches, and Larry in thetraining-camp, hurried scrawls from Father, looking after commissariatbusiness "somewhere in France", accounts of Nora's new housekeeping, picture post cards from Peter and Cyril, brief, laborious, round-handepistles from Joan, and delightful chatty notes from Mother, who sent akind of family chronicle round to the absent members of her flock. 

One Wednesday afternoon about the middle of October found Marjorie andDona walking along the road in the direction of Whitecliffe. They werepoliced by Miss Norton, who was taking a detachment of exeat-holdersinto the town, so that at present the company walked in a crocodile, which, however, would soon split up and distribute its various members. It was a lovely, fresh autumn day, and the girls stepped along briskly. They wore their school hats, and badges with the brown, white, and blueribbons, and the regulation "exeat" uniform, brown Harris tweed skirtsand knitted heather-mixture sports coats. 

"Nobody could mistake us for any other school, " said Marjorie. "I feelI'm as much labelled 'Brackenfield' as a Dartmoor prisoner is known byhis black arrows! It makes one rather conspicuous. "

"Trust the Empress for that!" laughed Mollie Simpson, who was one of theparty. "You see, there are other schools at Whitecliffe, and othergirls go into the town too. Sometimes they're rather giggly and silly, and we certainly don't want to get the credit for their escapades. Everybody knows a 'Brackenfielder' at a glance, so there's no risk offalse reports. The Empress prides herself on our clear record. We've thereputation of behaving beautifully!"

"We haven't much chance of doing anything else, " said Marjorie, lookingrather ruefully in the direction of Miss Norton, who brought up therear. 

At the cross-roads the Andersons found their cousin, Elaine, waiting forthem, and were handed over into her charge by their teacher, with strictinjunctions that they were to be escorted back to their respectivehostels by 6. 30. 

Marjorie waved good-bye to Mollie, and the school crocodile passed alongthe road in the direction of Whitecliffe. When the last hat had bobbedround the corner, and the shadow of Miss Norton's presence was reallyremoved for the space of four whole hours, the two girls each seizedElaine by one of her hands and twirled her round in a wild jig oftriumph. Elaine was nearly twenty, old enough to just pass muster as anescort in the eyes of Miss Norton, but young enough to be still almost aschoolgirl at heart, and to thoroughly enjoy the afternoons of hercousins' visits. She worked as a V. A. D. At the Red Cross Hospital, butshe was generally off duty by two o'clock and able to devote herself totheir amusement. She had come now straight from the hospital and was inuniform. 

"You promised to take us to see the Tommies, " said Marjorie, as Elaineturned down the side road and led the way towards home. 

"The Commandant didn't want me to bring visitors to-day. There's alittle whitewashing and papering going on, and the place is in rather amess. You shall come another time, when we're all decorated and inapple-pie order. Besides, we haven't many soldiers this week. We sentaway a batch of convalescents last Thursday, and we're expecting a freshcontingent in any day. That's why we're taking the opportunity to have aspecial cleaning. "

"I wish I were old enough to be a V. A. D. !" sighed Marjorie. "I'd love itbetter than anything else I can think of. It's my dream at present. "

"I enjoy it thoroughly, " said Elaine; "though, of course, there's plentyto do, and sometimes the Commandant gets ratty over just nothing at all. Have you St. John's Ambulance classes at school?"

"They're going to start next month, and I mean to join. I've put my namedown. "

"And Dona too?"

"They're not for Juniors. We have a First Aid Instruction class of ourown, " explained Dona; "but I hate it, because they always make me be thepatient, as I'm a new girl, and I don't like being bandaged, and walkedabout after poisons, and restored from drowning, and all the rest ofit. It's rather a painful process to have your tongue pulled out andyour arms jerked up and down!"

"Poor old girl! Perhaps another victim will arrive at half-term and takeyour place, then you'll have the satisfaction of performing all thoseoperations upon her. I've been through the same mill myself once upon atime. "

The Traffords' house, "The Tamarisks", stood on Cliff Walks, a pleasantresidential quarter somewhat away from the visitors' portion of thetown, with its promenade and lodging-houses. There was a beautiful viewover the sea, where to-day little white caps were breaking, and smallvessels bobbing about in a manner calculated to test the good seamanshipof any tourists who had ventured forth in them. Aunt Ellinor was in thetown at a Food Control Committee meeting, so Elaine for the present wassole hostess. 

"What shall we do?" she asked. "You may choose anything you like. Thecinema and tea at a café afterwards? Or a last game of tennis (the lawnwill just stand it)? Or shall we go for a scramble on the cliffs? Votes, please. "

Without any hesitation Dona and Marjorie plumped for the cliffs. Theyloved walking, and, as their own home was inland, the seaside heldattractions. Elaine hastily changed into tweed skirt and sports coat, found a favourite stick, and declared herself ready, and the three, invery cheerful spirits, set out along the hillside. 

It was one of those beautiful sunny October days when autumn seems tohave borrowed from summer, and the air is as warm and balmy as June. Great flocks of sea-gulls wheeled screaming round the cliffs, theirwings flashing in the sunshine; red admiral and tortoise-shellbutterflies still fluttered over late specimens of flowers, and thebracken was brown and golden underfoot. The girls were wild with thedelight of a few hours' emancipation from school rules, and flew aboutgathering belated harebells, and running to the top of any littleeminence to get the view. After about a mile on the hills, they dippeddown a steep sandy path that led to the shore. They found themselves ina delightful cove, with rugged rocks on either side and a belt of hardfirm sand. The tide was fairly well out, so they followed the retreatingwaves to the water's edge. A recent stormy day had flung up great massesof seaweed and hundreds of star-fish. Dona, whose tastes had just begunto awaken in the direction of natural history, poked about with greatenjoyment collecting specimens. There were shells to be had on the sand, and mermaids' purses, and bunches of whelks' eggs, and lovely littlestones that looked capable of being polished on the lapidary wheel whichMiss Jones had set up in the carpentering-room. For lack of a basketDona filled her own handkerchief and commandeered Marjorie's for thesame purpose. For the first time since she had left home she lookedperfectly happy. Dona's tastes were always quiet. She did not likehockey practices or any very energetic games. She did not care aboutmixing with the common herd of her schoolfellows, and much preferredthe society of one, or at most two friends. To live in the depths of thecountry was her ideal. 

Marjorie, on the contrary, liked the bustle of life. While Donainvestigated the clumps of seaweed, she plied Elaine with questionsabout the hospital. Marjorie was intensely patriotic. She followed everyevent of the war keenly, and was thrilled by the experiences of hersoldier father and brothers. She was burning to do something to help--tonurse the wounded, drive a transport wagon, act as secretary to astaff-officer, or even be telephone operator over in France--anythingthat would be of service to her country and allow her to feel that shehad played her part, however small, in the conduct of the Great War. Asshe watched the sea, she thought not so much of its natural historytreasures as of submarines and floating mines, and her heart went out toBevis, somewhere on deep waters keeping watchful guard against theenemy. 

It was so delightful in the cove that the girls were loath to go. Theyclimbed with reluctance up the steep sandy little path to the cliff. Asthey neared the top they could hear voices in altercation--ahigh-pitched, protesting, childish wail, and a blunt, uncompromising, scolding retort. On the road above stood an invalid carriage, piled upwith innumerable parcels, and containing also a small boy. He was acharmingly pretty little fellow, with a very pale, delicately oval face, beautiful pathetic brown eyes, and rich golden hair that fell in curlsover his shoulders like a girl's. He was peering out from amidst thehost of packages and trying to look back along the road, and evidentlyarguing some point with the utmost persistence. The untidy servant girlwho wheeled the carriage had stopped, and gave a heated reply. 

"It's no use, I tell you! Goodness knows where you may have dropped it, and if you think I'm going to traipse back you're much mistaken. We'relate as it is, and a pretty to-do there'll be when I get in. It's yourown fault for not taking better care of it. "

"Have you lost anything?" enquired Elaine, as the girls entered the roadin the midst of the quarrel. 

"It's his book, " answered the servant. "He's dropped it out of the pramsomewhere on the way from Whitecliffe; but I can't go back for it, it'stoo far, and we've got to be getting home. "

"What kind of a book was it?" asked Marjorie. 

"Fairy tales. Have you found it?" said the child eagerly. "All aboutRumpelstiltzkin and 'The Goose Girl' and 'The Seven Princesses'. "

"We haven't found it, but we'll look for it on our way back. Have youany idea where you dropped it?"

The little boy shook his head. 

"I was reading it in the town while Lizzie went inside the shops. Then Iforgot about it till just now. Oh, I _must_ know what happened when thePrince went to see the old witch!"

His brown eyes were full of tears and the corners of the pretty mouthtwitched. 

"He's such a child for reading! At it all day long!" explained theservant. "He thinks as much of an old book as some of us would of goldensovereigns. Well, we must be getting on, Eric. I can't stop. "

"Look here!" said Dona. "We'll hunt for the book on our way back toWhitecliffe. If we find it we'll meet you here to-day fortnight at thesame time and give it to you. "

"And suppose you don't find it?" quavered the little boy anxiously. 

"I think the fairies will bring it to us somehow. You come here to-dayfortnight and see. Cheer oh! Don't cry!"

"He wants his tea, " said the servant. "Hold on to those parcels, Eric, or we shall be dropping something else. "

The little boy put his arms round several lightly-balanced packages, andtried to wave a good-bye to the girls as his attendant wheeled him away. 

"Poor wee chap! I wonder what's the matter with him?" said Elaine, whenthe long perambulator had turned the corner. "And I wonder where he canpossibly be going? There are no houses that way--only a wretched littlevillage with a few cottages. "

"I can't place him at all, " replied Marjorie. "He's not a poor person'schild, and he's not exactly a gentleman's. The carriage was very shabby, with such an old rug; and the girl wasn't tidy enough for a nurse, shelooked like a general slavey. Dona, I don't believe you'll find thatbook. "

"I don't suppose I shall, " returned Dona; "but I have _Grimm's FairyTales_ at home, and I thought I'd write to Mother and ask her to send itto Auntie's for me, then I could take it to him next exeat. "

"Oh, good! What a splendid idea!"

Though the girls kept a careful look-out along the road they came acrossno fairy-tale volume. Either someone else had picked it up, or it hadperhaps been dropped in the street at Whitecliffe. Dona wrote homeaccordingly, and received the reply that her mother would post the bookto "The Tamarisks" in the course of a few days. The sisters watched theweather anxiously when their fortnightly exeat came round. They werefascinated with little Eric, and wanted to see him again. They could notforget his pale, wistful face among the parcels in the longperambulator. Luckily their holiday afternoon was fine, so they wereallowed to go to their aunt's under the escort of two prefects. Theyfound Elaine ready to start, and much interested in the errand. 

"The book came a week ago, " she informed Dona. "I expect your young manwill be waiting at the tryst. "

"He's not due till half-past four--if he keeps the appointment exactly, "laughed Dona; "but I've brought a basket to-day, so let's go now to thecove and get specimens while we're waiting. "

If the girls were early at the meeting-place the little boy was earlierstill. The long perambulator was standing by the roadside when theyreached the path to the cove. Lizzie, the servant girl, greeted themwith enthusiasm. 

"Why, here you are!" she cried. "I never expected you'd come, and I toldEric so. I said it wasn't in reason you'd remember, and he'd only bedisappointed. But he's thought of nothing else all this fortnight. He'sbeen ill again, and he shouldn't really be out to-day, because the pramjolts him; but I've got to go to Whitecliffe, and he worried so to comethat his ma said: 'Best put on his things and take him; he'll cryhimself sick if he's left'. "

The little pale face was whiter even than before, there were large darkrings round the brown eyes, and the golden hair curled limply to-day. Eric did not speak, but he looked with a world of wistfulness at theparcel in Dona's hand. 

"I couldn't find your book, but I've brought you mine instead, and Iexpect it's just the same, " explained Dona, untying the string. 

A flush of rose pink spread over Eric's cheeks, the frail little handstrembled as he fingered his treasure. 

"It's nicer than mine! It's got coloured pictures!" he gasped. 

"If it jolts him to be wheeled about to-day, " said Elaine to the servantgirl, "would you like to leave him here with us while you go intoWhitecliffe? We'd take the greatest care of him. "

"Why, I'd be only too glad. I can tell you it's no joke wheeling thatpram up the hills. Will you stay here, Eric, with the young ladies tillI come back?"

Eric nodded gravely. He was busy examining the illustrations in his newbook. The girls wheeled him to a sheltered place out of the wind, andset to work to entertain him. He was perfectly willing to make friends. 

"I've got names for you all, " he said shyly. "I made them up while I wasin bed. You, " pointing to Elaine, "are Princess Goldilocks; and you, "with a finger at Marjorie and Dona, "are two fairies, Bluebell andSilverstar. No, I don't want to know your real names; I like make-upones better. We always play fairies when Titania comes to see me. "

"Who's Titania?"

"She's my auntie. She's the very loveliest person in all the world. There's no one like her. We have such fun, and I forget my leg hurts. Shall we play fairies now?"

"If you'll show us how, " said the girls. 

It was a very long time before Lizzie, well laden with parcels, returnedfrom Whitecliffe, and the self-constituted nurses had plenty of time tomake Eric's acquaintance. They found him a charming little fellow, fullof quaint fancies and a delicate humour. His chatter amused themimmensely, yet there was an element of pathos through it all; he lookedso frail and delicate, like a fairy changeling, or some being of anotherworld. They wondered if he would ever be able to run about like otherchildren. 

"Good-bye!" he said, when Lizzie, full of apologies and thanks, resumedher charge. "Come again some time and play with me! I'm going home nowin my Cinderella coach to my Enchanted Palace. Take care of giants onyour way back. And don't talk to witches. I won't forget you. "

"He's hugging his book, " said Marjorie, as the girls stood waving afarewell. "Isn't he just too precious for words?"

"Sweetest thing I've ever seen!" agreed Dona. 

"Poor little chap! I wonder if he'll ever grow up, " said Elainethoughtfully. "I wish we'd asked where he lives, and we might have senthim some picture post cards. "

"I'm afraid 'The Enchanted Palace' wouldn't find him, " laughed Marjorie. "We must try to come here another Wednesday. "

But the next fortnightly half-holiday was wet, and after that the daysbegan to grow dark early, and Aunt Ellinor suggested other amusementsthan walks on the cliffs, so for that term at any rate the girls did notsee Eric again. He seemed to have made his appearance suddenly, like apixy child, and to have vanished back into Fairyland. There was a linkbetween them, however, and some time Fate would pull the chain and bringtheir lives into touch once more. 

CHAPTER V

Autographs

The Brackenfielders, like most other girls, were given to fads. Thecollecting mania, in a variety of forms, raged hot and strong. Therewere the Natural History enthusiasts, who went in select parties, personally conducted by a mistress, to the shore at low tide, to grubblissfully among the rocks for corallines and zoophytes and spider crabsand madrepores and anemones, to be placed carefully in jam jars andbrought back to the school aquarium. "The Gnats", as the members of theNatural History Society were named, sometimes pursued theirinvestigations with more zeal than discretion, and they generallyreturned from their rambles with skirts much the worse for green slimeand sea water, and boots coated with sand and mud, but brimming overwith the importance of their "finds", and confounding non-members by theease with which they rapped out long scientific names. Those who hadcaught butterflies and moths during the summer spent some of theirleisure now in relaxing and setting them, and pinning them into cases. It was considered etiquette to offer the best specimens to the schoolmuseum, but the girls also made private collections, and vied with oneanother in the possession of rare varieties. 

The Photographic Society enjoyed a run of great popularity. There was anexcellent dark room, with every facility for developing and washing, andthis term the members had subscribed for an enlarging apparatus, withwhich they hoped to do great things. As well as these recognized schoolpursuits, the girls had all kinds of minor waves of fashion in the wayof hobbies. Sometimes they liked trifling things, such as scraps, transfers, coloured beads, pictures taken from book catalogues orillustrated periodicals, newspaper cuttings or attractiveadvertisements, or they would soar to the more serious collecting ofstamps, crests, badges, and picture post cards. In Marjorie's dormitorythe taste was for celebrities. Sylvia Page, who was musical, adorned hercubicle with charming photogravures of the great composers. IreneAndrews, whose ambition was to "come out" if there was anybody left todance with after the war, pinned up the portraits of Society beauties;Betty Moore, of sporting tendencies, kept the illustrations of prizedogs and their owners, from _The Queen_ and other ladies' papers. Marjorie, not to be outdone by the others, covered her fourth share ofthe wall with "heroes". Whenever she saw that some member of HisMajesty's forces had been awarded the V. C. , she would cut out hisportrait and add it to her gallery of honour. She wrote to her motherand her sister Nora to help her in this hobby, with the consequence thatevery letter which arrived for her contained enclosures. Her room-mateswere on the whole good-natured, and in return for some contributions shehad given to their collections they also wrote home for any V. C. Portraits which could be procured. As the girls were putting away theirclean clothes on "laundry return" day, Irene fumbled in her pocket anddrew out a letter, from which she produced some cuttings. She handedthem to Marjorie. 

"Mother sent me five to-day, " she said. "I hope you haven't got themalready. Two are rather nice and clear, because they're out of _TheOnlooker_, and are printed on better paper than most. The others arejust ordinary. "

"All's fish that comes to my net, " replied Marjorie. "I think they'retopping. No, I haven't got any of these. Thanks most awfully!"

"Don't mench! I'll try to beg some more. They've always heaps of papersand magazines at home, and Mother looks through them to find mypictures. No, you're not taking the 'heroes' away from me. I like them, but I don't want to collect them. My cube won't hold everything. "

Marjorie sat down on her bed and turned over the new additions to hergallery. Three of them were the usual rather blurred newspaper prints, but, as Irene had said, two were on superior paper and very clear. Oneof these represented an officer with a moustache, the other was aprivate and clean shaven. Marjorie looked at them at first rathercasually, then examined the latter with interest. She had seen that facebefore--the shape of the forehead, the twinkling dark eyes, and thehumorous smile all seemed familiar. Instantly there rose to her memory avision of the crowded railway carriage from Silverwood, of the run alongthe platform at Rosebury, and of the search for a taxi at Euston. 

"I verily believe it's that nice Tommy who helped us!" she gasped toherself. 

She looked at the inscription underneath, which set forth that PrivateH. T. Preston, West Yorks Regiment, had been awarded the V. C. For pluckin removing a "fired" Stokes shell. 

"Why, that's the same regiment that Leonard is in! How frightfullyinteresting!" she thought. "So his name is Preston. I wonder what H. T. Stands for--Harry, or Herbert, or Hugh, or Horace? He was mostunmistakably a gentleman. He's going to have the best place among myheroes. If the picture were only smaller, I'd wear it in a locket. Iwonder whether I could get it reduced if I joined the PhotographicSociety? I believe I'll give in my name on the chance. I must show it toDona. She'll be thrilled. "

The portrait of Private H. T. Preston was accordingly placed in a bijouframe, and hung up on the wall by the side of Marjorie's bed, in selectcompany with Kitchener, Sir Douglas Haig, the Prince of Wales, and HisMajesty the King. She looked at it every morning when she woke up. Thewhimsical brown eyes had quite a friendly expression. 

"Where is he fighting now--and shall I ever meet him again?" shewondered. "I'm glad, at least, that I have his picture. "

Marjorie lived for news of the war. She devoured the sheets ofclosely-written foreign paper sent home by Father, Bevis, and Leonard. She followed all the experiences they described, and tried to imaginethem in their dug-outs, on the march, sleeping in rat-ridden barns, orcruising the Channel to sweep mines. When she awoke in the night andheard the rain falling, she would picture the wet trenches, and sheoften looked at the calm still moon, and thought how it shone alike onpeaceful white cliffs and on stained battle-fields in Flanders. Theaeroplanes that guarded the coast were a source of immense interest atBrackenfield. The girls would look up to see them whizzing overhead. There was a poster at the school depicting hostile aircraft, and theyoften gazed into the sky with an apprehension that one of the Hunpattern might make its sudden appearance. Annie Turner came back afterthe half-term holiday with the signatures of two Field-Marshals, aGeneral, a Member of Parliament, three authors, an inventor, and acomposer, and straightway set the fashion at St. Elgiva's forautographs. Nearly every girl in the house sent to the Stores atWhitecliffe for an album. At present, of course, specimens of caligraphycould only be had from mistresses and prefects, except by those luckyones whose home people enclosed for them little slips of writing-paperwith signatures, which could be pasted into the books. 

Nobody took up the hobby more hotly than Marjorie. Her album was boundin blue morocco with gilt edges, and had coloured pages. The portion ofit reserved for Brackenfield was soon filled by the Empress, mistresses, and prefects, who were long-suffering, though they must have grown veryweary of signing their names in such a large number of books. Outsidethe school Marjorie so far had no luck. Her people did not seem to haveany very noteworthy acquaintances, or, at any rate, would not troublethem for their autographs. She had thought it would be quite easy forFather to secure the signatures of generals and diplomats, but in hisnext letter he did not even refer to her request. Elaine secured for herthe name of the Commandant of the Red Cross Hospital, and of a lady whosometimes wrote verses to be set to music, but these could not competewith the treasures some other girls had to show. Marjorie began to get alittle downhearted about the new fad, and had serious thoughts ofutilizing the album as a book of quotations. 

Then, one day, something happened. Sixteen girls were taken by MissFranklin for a parade walk into Whitecliffe, and Marjorie was chosenamong the number. Every week a small contingent, under charge of amistress, was allowed to go into the town to do some shopping. Thechance only fell once in a term to each individual, so it was acherished privilege. 

They first visited the Stores, where a long halt was allowed in theconfectionery department for the purchase of sweets. The investment inthese was considerable, for each girl not only bought her own, butexecuted commissions for numerous friends. There was a school limit of aquarter of a pound per head, but Miss Franklin was not over strict, andthe rule was certainly exceeded. The book and magazine counter alsoreceived a visit, and the stationery department, for there was atpresent a fashion for fancy paper and envelopes, with sealing-wax orpicture wafers to match, and the toilet counter had its customers forscent and cold cream and practical articles such as sponges and toothpaste. There was a sensation when Enid Young was discoveredsurreptitiously buying pink Papier Poudré, though she assured them thatit was not for herself, but for one of the Seniors, whose name she hadpromised not to divulge, under pain of direst extremities. Poor MissFranklin had an agitating hour escorting her flock from one departmentto another of the Stores and keeping them all as much as possibletogether. She breathed a sigh of relief when they were once more in thestreet, and walking two and two in a neat, well-conducted crocodile. They marched down Sandy Walks to the Market Place, and turned along thepromenade to go back by the Cliff Road. In this autumn season there weregenerally very few people along the sea front, but to-day quite a crowdhad collected on the sands. They were all standing gazing up into thesky, where an aeroplane was flitting about like a big dragon-fly. Nowwhen a crowd exhibits agitation, bystanders naturally become curious asto what is the cause of the excitement. Miss Franklin, though a teacher, was human; moreover, she always suspected every aeroplane of beingGerman in its origin. She called a halt, therefore, and enquired fromone of the sky-gazers what was the matter. 

"It's Captain Devereux, the great French airman, " was the reply. "He'sjust flown over from Paris, and he's been looping the loop. There! He'sgoing to do it again!"

Immensely thrilled, the girls stared cloudwards as the aeroplane, afterdescribing several circles, turned a neat somersault. They clapped as ifthe performance had been specially given for their benefit. 

"He's coming down!" "He's going to descend!" "He'll land on the beach!"came in excited ejaculations from the crowd, as the aeroplane begangently to drop in a slanting direction towards the sands. Like the wingsof some enormous bird the great planes whizzed by, and in another momentthe machine was resting on a firm piece of shingle close to thepromenade. Its near vicinity was quite too much for the girls; withoutwaiting for permission they broke ranks and rushed down the steps toobtain a nearer view. Captain Devereux had alighted, and was nowstanding bowing with elaborate French politeness to the variousstrangers who addressed him, and answering their questions as to thelength of time it had taken him to fly from Paris. He looked socourteous and good-tempered that a sudden idea flashed into Marjorie'shead, and, without waiting to ask leave from Miss Franklin, she rushedup to the distinguished aviator and panted out impulsively:

"Oh, I do think it was splendid! Will you please give me yourautograph?"

The Frenchman smiled. 

"With pleasure, Mademoiselle!" he replied gallantly, and, taking anotebook and fountain pen from his pocket, he wrote in a neat foreignhand:

 "HENRI RAOUL DEVEREUX", and handed the slip to the delighted Marjorie. 

"Oh, write one for me, please!" "And for me!" exclaimed the other girls, anxious to have their share if autographs were being given away. Theairman was good-natured, perhaps a little flattered at receiving so muchattention from a bevy of young ladies. He rapidly scribbled hissignature, tearing out sheet after sheet from his notebook. So excitedwere the girls that they would take no notice of Miss Franklin, whocalled them to order. It was not until the sixteenth damsel had receivedher coveted scrap of paper that discipline was restored, and thecrocodile once more formed and marched off in the direction ofBrackenfield. 

Miss Franklin's eyes were flashing, and her mouth was set. She did notspeak on the way back, but at the gate her indignation found words. 

"I never was so ashamed in my life!" she burst forth. "I shall at oncereport your unladylike conduct to Mrs. Morrison. You're a disgrace tothe school!"

CHAPTER VI

Trouble

Marjorie and her fellow autograph collectors from St. Elgiva's enteredthe sitting-room in a state of much exhilaration, to boast of theirachievement. 

"You didn't!" exclaimed Betty Moore. "You mean to say you ran up andasked him under Frankie's very nose? Marjorie, you are the limit!"

"He was as nice as anything about it. I think he's a perfect dear. Hedidn't seem to mind at all, rather liked it, in fact! Here's his neatlittle signature. Do you want to look?"

"Well, you have luck, though you needn't cock-a-doodle so dreadfullyover it. How did Frankie take it?"

"Oh, she was rather ratty, of course; but who cares? We've got ourautographs, and that's the main thing. One has to risk something. "

"We'll get something, too, in my opinion, " said Patricia Lennox, one ofthe sinners. "Frankie was worse than ratty, she was absolutely savage. Icould see it in her eye. "

"Well, we can't help it if we do receive a few order marks. It was wellworth it, in my opinion, " chuckled Marjorie shamelessly. 

She bluffed things off before the other girls, but secretly she feltrather uneasy. Miss Franklin's threat to report the matter to Mrs. Morrison recurred to her memory. At Brackenfield to carry any questionto the Principal was an extreme measure. The Empress liked her teachersto be able to manage their girls on their own authority, and, knowingthis, they generally conducted their struggles without appeal tohead-quarters. Any very flagrant breach of discipline, however, wasexpected to be reported, so that the case could be dealt with as itdeserved. 

Marjorie went into the dining-hall for tea with a thrill akin to thatwhich she usually suffered when visiting the dentist. To judge fromtheir heightened colour and conspicuously callous manner, Rose Butler, Patricia Lennox, Phyllis Bingham, Laura Norris, Gertrude Holmes, andEvelyn Pickard were experiencing the same sensations. They fullyexpected to receive three order marks apiece, which would mean bedimmediately after supper, instead of going to the needlework union. Totheir surprise Miss Franklin took no notice of them. She was sittingamongst the Juniors, and did not even look in their direction. They tookcare not to do anything which should attract attention to themselves, and the meal passed over in safety. Preparation followed immediately. Marjorie found the image of the aviator and Miss Franklin's outragedexpression kept obtruding themselves through her studies, causing sadconfusion amongst French irregular verbs, and driving the principalbattles of the Civil Wars into the sidewalks of her memory. She made avaliant effort to pull herself together, and, looking up, caught RoseButler's eye. Rose held up for a moment a piece of paper, upon which shehad executed a fancy sketch of Captain Devereux and his aeroplanesurrounded by schoolgirls, and Miss Franklin in the background raisinghands of horror. It was too much for Marjorie's sense of humour, and shechuckled audibly. Miss Norton promptly glared in her direction, and gaveher an order mark, which sobered her considerably. 

When preparation was over the girls changed their dresses and came downfor supper, and again Miss Franklin took no notice of the sinners of theafternoon. They began to breathe more freely. 

"Perhaps she's going to overlook it, " whispered Rose. 

"After all, I can't see that we did anything so very wrong, " maintainedPhyllis. 

"Frankie's jealous because she didn't get an autograph for herself, "chuckled Laura. 

"I don't believe we shall hear another word about it, " asserted Evelyn. 

The interval between supper and prayers was spent by the girls in theirown hostels. At present each house was busy with a needlework union. They were making articles for a small bazaar, that was to be held at theschool in the spring in aid of the Red Cross Society. They sat and sewedwhile a mistress read a book aloud to them. Marjorie was embroidering anightdress case in ribbon-work. She used a frame, and enjoyed pullingher ribbons through into semblance of little pink roses and blueforget-me-nots. In contrast with French verbs and the Civil Wars theoccupation was soothing. Ever afterwards it was associated in her mindwith the story of _Cranford_, which was being read aloud, and the verysight of ribbon-work would recall Miss Matty or the other quaintinhabitants of the old-world village. 

At ten minutes to nine a bell rang, sewing-baskets were put away, andthe girls trooped into the big hall for prayers. 

If by that time any remembrance of her afternoon's misdeeds enteredMarjorie's mind, it was to congratulate herself that the trouble hadblown over successfully. She was certainly not prepared for what was tohappen. 

Mrs. Morrison mounted the platform as usual, and read prayers, and thecustomary hymn followed. At its close, instead of dismissing the girlsto their hostels, the Principal made a signal for them to resume theirseats. 

"I have something to say to you this evening, " she began gravely. "Something which I feel demands the presence of the whole school. It iswith the very greatest regret I bring this matter before you. Brackenfield, as you are aware, will soon celebrate its tenth birthday. During all these years of its existence it has always prided itself uponthe extremely high reputation in respect of manners and conduct whichits pupils have maintained in the neighbourhood. So far, atWhitecliffe, the name of a Brackenfield girl has been synonymous withperfectly and absolutely ladylike behaviour. There are other schools inthe town, and it is possible that there may be among them some spirit ofrivalry towards Brackenfield. The inhabitants or visitors at Whitecliffewill naturally notice any party of girls who are proceeding in linethrough the town, they will note their school hats, observe theirconduct, and judge accordingly the establishment from which they come. Every girl when on parade has the reputation of Brackenfield in herkeeping. So strong has been the spirit not only of loyalty to theschool, but of innate good breeding, that up to this day our traditionshave never yet been broken. I say sorrowfully up till to-day, for thisvery afternoon an event has occurred which, in the estimation of myselfand my colleagues, has trailed our Brackenfield standards in the dust. Sixteen girls, who under privilege of a parade exeat visitedWhitecliffe, have behaved in a manner which fills me with astonishmentand disgust. That they could so far forget themselves as to break line, rush on to the shore, crowd round and address a perfect stranger, passesmy comprehension, and this under the eyes of two other schools who werewalking along the promenade, and who must have been justly amazed andshocked. The girls who this afternoon were on exeat parade will kindlystand up. "

Sixteen conscience-stricken miserable sinners rose to their feet, and, feeling themselves the centre for more than two hundred pairs of eyes, yearned for the earth to yawn and swallow them up. Mrs. Morrisonregarded them for a moment or two in silence. 

"Each of you will now go to her own house and fetch the autograph shesecured, " continued the mistress grimly. "I give you three minutes. "

There was a hurried exit, and the school sat and waited until theluckless sixteen returned. 

"Bring them to me!" commanded Mrs. Morrison, and in turn each girlhanded over her slip of paper with the magic signature "Henri RaoulDevereux". The Principal placed them together, then, her eyes flashing, tore them into shreds. 

"Girls who have deliberately broken rules, defied the authority of mycolleague, which is equivalent to defying me, and have lowered theprestige of the school in the eyes of the world, deserve the contempt oftheir comrades, who, I hope, will show their opinion of such conduct. Ifeel that any imposition I can give them is inadequate, and that theirown sense of shame should be sufficient punishment; yet, in order toenforce the lesson, I shall expect each to recite ten lines of poetry toher House Mistress every morning before breakfast until the end of theterm; and Marjorie Anderson, who, I understand, was the instigator ofthe whole affair, will spend Saturday afternoon indoors until she hascopied out the whole of Bacon's essay on 'Empire'. You may go now. "

Marjorie slunk off to St. Elgiva's in an utterly wretched frame of mind. It was bad enough to be reproved in company with fifteen others, but tobe singled out for special condemnation and held up to obloquy beforeall the school was terrible. In spite of herself hot tears were in hereyes. She tried to blink them back, for crying was scouted atBrackenfield, but just at that moment she came across Rose, Phyllis, Laura, and Gertrude weeping openly in a corner. 

"I'll never hold up my head again!" gulped Phyllis. "Oh, the Empress wascross! And I'm sure it was all because those wretched girls from 'HopeHall' and 'The Birches' were walking along the promenade and saw us. Ifthey'd had any sense they'd have rushed down and asked for autographsfor themselves. "

"It was mean of the Empress to tear ours up!" moaned Gertrude. "I callthat a piece of temper on her part!"

"And after all, I don't see that we did anything so very dreadful!"choked Rose. "Mrs. Morrison was awfully down on us!"

"I hate learning poetry before breakfast!" wailed Laura. 

"I'm the worst off, " sighed Marjorie. "I've got to spend Saturdayafternoon pen-driving, and it's the match with Holcombe. I'm just theunluckiest girl in the whole school. Strafe it all! It's a grizzlynuisance. I should like to slay myself!"

To Marjorie no punishment was greater than being forced to stay indoors. She was essentially an open-air girl, and after a long morning in theschoolroom her whole soul craved for the playing-fields. She had takenup hockey with the utmost enthusiasm. She keenly enjoyed the practices, and was deeply interested in the matches played by the school team. Theevent on Saturday afternoon was considered to be of special importance, for Brackenfield was to play the First Eleven of the Holcombe Ladies'Club. They had rather a good reputation, and the game would probably bea stiff tussle. Every Brackenfielder considered it her duty to bepresent to watch the match and encourage the School Eleven. 

Marjorie would have given worlds to evade her punishment task thatSaturday, but Mrs. Morrison's orders were as the laws of the Medes andPersians that cannot be altered, so she was policed to the St. Elgiva'ssitting-room by Miss Norton, and provided with sheets of exercise paperand a copy of Bacon's _Essays_. 

"I shall expect it to be finished by tea-time, " said the mistressbriefly. "If not, you will have to stay in again on Monday. "

Marjorie frowned at the threat of further confinement, and settledherself with rather aggressive slowness. She was in a pixy mood, and didnot mean to show any special haste in beginning her unwelcome work. MissNorton glared at her, but made no further remark, and with a glance atthe clock left the room. All the girls had already gone to thehockey-field, and Marjorie had St. Elgiva's to herself. She opened thebook languidly, found Essay XIX, "Of Empire", and groaned. 

"It'll take me the whole afternoon, strafe it all!" she muttered. "Iwish Francis Bacon had never existed! I wonder the Empress didn't tellme to write an essay on Aeroplanes. If I drew them all round the edgesof the pages, I wonder what would happen? I'd love to do it, and putCaptain Devereux's picture at the end! I expect I'd get expelled if Idid. Oh dear! It's a weary world! I wish I were old enough to leaveschool and drive a transport wagon. Have I got to stop here till I'meighteen? Another two years and a half, nearly! It gives me spasms tothink of it!"

She dipped her pen in the ink and copied:

"It is a miserable state of mind to have few things to desire, and manythings to fear. "

"I agree with old Bacon, " she commented. "Only I've got great heaps ofthings to desire, and the one I want most at present is to go to thehockey match. I wish his shade would come and help me! They didn't playhockey in his days, so it would be a new experience for him. FrancisBacon, I command you to give me a hand with your wretched essay, andI'll take you to the match in return!"

A smart rap-tap on the window behind her made Marjorie start and turnround in a hurry. Her invocation, however, had not called up the ghostlycountenance of the defunct Sir Francis to face her; it was Dona'sroguish-looking eyes which twinkled at her from the other side of thepane. 

"Open the window!" ordered that damsel. 

Marjorie obeyed in much amazement. Dona was standing at the top of aladder which just reached to the window-sill. 

"Old Williams has been clipping the ivy, " she explained, "so I'vecommandeered his ladder. I haven't broken any rules. I've never beentold that I mustn't get up a ladder. "

The girls' sitting-room at St. Elgiva's was on the upper floor, andmembers of other houses were strictly forbidden to mount the stairs. Marjorie laughed at Dona's evasion of the edict. 

"Give me a hand and I'll toddle in, " continued the latter. "Steady oh!Don't pull too hard. Here I am!"

"Glad to see you, but you'll get into a jinky little row if the AcidDrop catches you!"

"Right oh, chucky! The Acid Drop is at this moment watching the team forall she's worth. She's awfully keen on hockey. "

"I know. And so am I, " said Marjorie aggrievedly. "It's the limit tomiss this match. "

"You're not going to miss it altogether. I've come to help you. Here, give me a pen, and I'll copy some of the stuff out for you. Ourwriting's so alike no one will guess--and you'll get out at half-time. "

"You mascot! But you're missing the match yourself!"

"I don't care twopence. I'm not keen on hockey like you are. Give me apen, I tell you!"

"But how are we to manage?" objected Marjorie. "If we do alternate pageswe shan't each know where to begin, and we can't leave spaces, or theAcid Drop would twig. "

"Marjorie Anderson, I always thought you'd more brains than I have, butyou're not clever to-day! You must write small, so as to get each lineof print exactly into a line of exercise paper. There are twenty bluelines on each sheet--very well then, you copy the first twenty of oldBacon, and I'll copy the second twenty, and there we are, alternatepages, as neat as you please!"

"Dona, you've a touch of genius about you!" purred Marjorie. 

The plan answered admirably. By writing small, it was quite possible tobring each line of print into correspondence with the manuscript. Therewere a hundred and twenty lines altogether in the essay, which workedout at six pages of exercise paper. Each counted out her own portion, then scribbled away as fast as was consistent with keeping the size ofher caligraphy within due bounds. Thirty-five minutes' hard work broughtthem to the last word. Marjorie breathed a sigh of rapture, fastened thepages together with a clip, and took them downstairs to Miss Norton'sstudy. 

"You're an absolute trump, old girl!" she said to Dona. 

The latter, meantime, had run downstairs and removed the ladder back towhere she had found it, so that no trace of her little adventure shouldbe left behind. The two girls hurried off to the playing-field, but tookcare not to approach together, in case of awakening suspicions. 

Everybody's attention was so concentrated on the match that Marjorieslipped into a crowd of Intermediates unnoticed by mistresses. She wasin time for part of the game, and keenly enjoyed watching a brilliantrun by Daisy Edwards, and a terrific tussle on the back line resultingin a splendid shot by Hilda Alworthy. When the whistle blew for time thescore stood six goals to three, Brackenfield leading, and Marjoriejoined with enthusiasm in the cheers. She loitered a little in thefield, and came back among the last. Miss Norton, who was standing inthe hall, looked at her keenly as she entered St. Elgiva's, but theteacher had just found the essay "Of Empire" laid on her desk, and, turning it over, had marked it correct. If she had any suspicions shedid not voice them, but allowed the matter to pass. 

CHAPTER VII

Dormitory No. 9

After the sad fiasco recorded in the last chapter, Marjorie's interestin autographs languished. She took up photography instead, and bartereda quite nice little collection of foreign stamps with one of the Seniorsin exchange for a second-hand Kodak. Of course, it was much too late inthe year for snapshots, but she managed to get a few time exposures onbright days, and enjoyed herself afterwards in the developing-room. Shewanted to make a series of views of the school and send them to herfather and to her brothers, for she knew how much they appreciated suchthings at the front. In his last letter to her, Daddy had said: "I amglad you and Dona are happy at Brackenfield, and wish I could pictureyou there. I expect it is something like a boys' school. Tell me aboutyour doings. I love to have your letters, even though I may not havetime to answer them. "

Daddy's letters were generally of the round-robin description, and werehanded on from one member to another of the family, but this had beenspecially written to Marjorie and addressed to Brackenfield, so it was agreat treasure. She determined to do her best to satisfy the demands forphotos. 

"You darling!" she said, kissing his portrait. "I think you're athousand times nicer-looking than any of the other girls' fathers! I dowonder when you'll get leave and come home. If it's not in the holidaysI declare I'll run away and see you!"

In her form Marjorie was making fair progress. She liked Miss Duckworth, her teacher, and on the whole did not find the work too hard; her brainswere bright when she chose to use them, and at present the thought ofthe Christmas report, which would be sent out for Daddy to look at, spurred on her efforts. So far Marjorie had not made any very greatchums at school. She inclined to Mollie Simpson, but Mollie, likeherself, was of a rather masterful disposition, and squabbles almostinvariably ensued before the two had been long together. With the threegirls who shared her dormitory she was on quite friendly, though notwarm, terms. They had at first considered Marjorie inclined to "boss", and had made her thoroughly understand that, as a new girl, such anattitude could not be tolerated in her. So long as she was content tomanage her own cubicle and not theirs they were pleasant enough, butthey united in a firm triumvirate of resistance whenever symptoms ofswelled head began to arise in their room-mate. 

One evening about the end of November the four girls were dressing forsupper in their dormitory. 

"It's a grizzly nuisance having to change one's frock!" groused BettyMoore. "It seems so silly to array oneself in white just to eat supperand do a little sewing afterwards. I hate the bother. "

"Do you?" exclaimed Irene Andrews. "Now I like it. I think it would beperfectly piggy to wear the same serge dress from breakfast to bedtime. Brackenfield scores over some schools in that. They certainly makethings nice for us in the evenings. "

"Um--yes, tolerably, " put in Sylvia Page. "We don't get enough music, inmy opinion. "

"We have a concert every Saturday night, and charades on Wednesdays forthose who care to act. "

"I'd like gym practice every evening, " said Betty. "Then I needn'tchange my frock. When I leave school I mean to go on a farm, and wearcorduroy knickers and leggings and thick boots all the time. It'll begorgeous. I love anything to do with horses, so perhaps they'll let meplough. What shall you do, Marjorie?"

"Something to help the war, if it isn't over. I'll nurse, or drive awagon, or ride a motor-bike with dispatches. "

"I'd rather ride a horse than a bike any day, " said Betty. "I used tohunt before the war. You needn't smile. I was twelve when the war began, and I'd been hunting since I was seven, and got my first pony. It was adarling little brown Shetland named Sheila. I cried oceans when it died. My next was a grey one named Charlie, and Tom, our coachman, taught meto take fences. He put up some little hurdles in a field, and keptmaking them higher and higher till I could get Charlie over quite well. Oh, it was sport! I wish I'd a pony here. "

"There used to be riding lessons before the war, " sighed Irene. "Motherhad promised me I should learn. But now, of course, there are no horsesto be had, and the riding-master, Mr. Hall, has gone to the front. Iwonder if things will ever be the same again? If I don't learn to rideproperly while I'm young I'll never have a decent seat afterwards, Isuppose. "

"You certainly won't, " Betty assured her. "You ought to have begun whenyou were seven. "

"Oh dear! And I shall be sixteen on Wednesday!"

"Is it your birthday next Wednesday?"

"Yes, but it won't be much fun. We're not allowed to do anythingparticular, worse luck. "

It was one of the Brackenfield rules that no notice must be taken ofbirthdays. Girls might receive presents from home, but they were not toclaim any special privileges or exemptions, to ask for exeats, or tobring cakes into the dining-hall. In a school of more than two hundredpupils it would have been difficult continually to make allowances firstto one girl and then to another, and though in a sense all recognizedthe necessity of the rule, those whose birthdays fell during term-timebemoaned their hard fate. 

It struck Marjorie as a very cheerless proceeding. She found anopportunity, when Irene was out of the way, to talk to her room-mates onthe subject. 

"Look here, " she began. "It's Renie's birthday on Wednesday. I do thinkit's the limit that we're not supposed to take any notice of it. I votewe get up a little blow-out on our own for her. Let's have a beano afterwe're in bed. "

"What a blossomy idea! Good for you, Marjorie! I'm your man if there'sany fun on foot, " agreed Betty enthusiastically. 

"It'll be lovely; but how are we going to manage the cateringdepartment?" enquired Sylvia. 

"Some of the Juniors will be going on parade to Whitecliffe onWednesday. I'll ask Dona to ask them to get a few things for us. We musthave a cake, and some candles, and some cocoa, and some condensed milk, and anything else they can smuggle. Are you game?"

"Rather! If you'll undertake to be general of the commissariatdepartment. "

"All serene! Don't say a word about it to anyone else at St. Elgiva's. I'll swear Dona to secrecy, and the St. Ethelberta kids aren't likely totell. They do the same themselves sometimes. And don't on any accountlet Renie have wind of it. It's to be a surprise. "

On Wednesday evening, before supper, Marjorie met Dona by specialappointment in the gymnasium, and the latter hastily thrust a parcelinto her arms. 

"You wouldn't believe what difficulty I had to get it, " she whispered. "Mona and Peachy weren't at all willing. They said they didn't see whythey should take risks for St. Elgiva's, and you might run your ownbeano. I had to bribe them with ever so many of my best crests before Icould make them promise. They say Miss Jones has got suspicious nowabout bulgy coats, and actually feels them. They have to sling bagsunder their skirts and it's so uncomfy walking home. However, they didtheir best for you. There's a cake, and three boxes of Christmas-treecandles, and a tin of condensed milk. They couldn't get the cocoa, because just as they were going to buy it Miss Jones came up. Everything's dearer, and you didn't give them enough. Mona paid, and youowe her fivepence halfpenny extra. "

"I'll give it you to-morrow at lunch-time. Thank them both most awfully. I think they're regular trumps. I'll give them some of my crests if theylike--I'm not really collecting and don't want them. Think of us aboutmidnight if you happen to wake. I wish you could join us. "

"So do I. But that's quite out of the question. Never mind; we have bitsof fun ourselves sometimes. "

Marjorie managed to convey her parcel unnoticed to No. 9 Dormitory. According to arrangement, Betty and Sylvia were waiting there for her. Irene, still oblivious of the treat in store for her, had not yet comeupstairs. The three confederates undid their package, and gloated overits contents. The cake was quite a respectable one for war-time, tojudge from appearances it had cherries in it, and there was a piece ofcandied peel on the top. The little boxes of Christmas-tree candles heldhalf a dozen apiece, assorted colours. They took sixteen of them, sharpened the ends, and stuck them down into the cake. 

"When it's lighted it will look A 1, " purred Betty. 

"How are we going to open the tin of condensed milk?" asked Sylvia. 

"It's one of those tins you prise up, " said Marjorie jauntily. "Give itto me. A penny's the best weapon. Here you are! Quite easy. "

"Yes, but there's another lid underneath. You're not at the milk yet. "

Marjorie's feathers began to fall. She was not quite as clever as shehad thought. 

"Here, I'll do it, " said Betty, snatching the tin. "Take down a pictureand pull the nail out of the wall, and give me a boot to hammer with. You've to go through this arrow point and then the thing prises up. Steady! Here we are!"

"Cave! Renie's coming. Stick the things away!"

Marjorie hastily seized the feast, and bestowed it inside her wardrobe. Thanks to the drawn curtains of her cubicle Irene had not obtained evena glimpse. 

"What are you three doing inside there?" she asked curiously, but no onewould tell. The secret was not to be given away too soon. 

The conspirators had decided that it would be wiser not to ask any othergirls to join the party, but to keep the affair entirely to their owndormitory. 

"They'll make such a noise if we have them in, and it will wake the AcidDrop and bring her down upon us, " said Sylvia. 

"Besides which, it's only a small cake and wouldn't go round, " statedBetty practically. 

Irene went to bed in a fit of the blues. Only half her presents hadturned up, and two of her aunts had not written to her. 

"It's been a rotten birthday, " she groaned. "I knew it would be hatefulhaving it at school. Why wasn't I born in the holidays? There ought tobe a law regulating births to certain times of the year. If I were headof a school I'd let every girl go home for her birthday. Don't speak tome! I feel scratchy!"

Her room-mates chuckled, and for the present left her alone. Sylviabegan to sing a song about tears turning to smiles and sorrow to joy, until Irene begged her to stop. 

"It's the limit to-night! When I'm blue the one thing I can't stand isanybody trying to cheer me up. It gets on my nerves!"

"Sleep it off, old sport!" laughed Marjorie. "I don't mind betting thatwhen you wake up you'll feel in a very different frame of mind. "

At which remark the others spluttered. 

"You'll find illumination, in fact, " hinnied Betty. 

"I think you're all most unkind!" quavered Irene. 

The confederates had decided to wait until the magic hour of midnightbefore they began their beano. They felt it was wiser to give MissNorton plenty of time to go to bed and fall asleep. She often sat uplate in the study reading, and they did not care to risk a visit fromher. A bracket clock on the stairs sounded the quarters, and Marjorie, as the lightest sleeper, undertook to keep awake and listen to itschimes. It was rather difficult not to doze when the room was dark andher companions were breathing quietly and regularly in the other beds. The time between the quarters seemed interminable. At eleven o'clock sheheard Miss Norton walk along the corridor and go into her bedroom. Afterthat no other sound disturbed the establishment, and Marjorie repeatedpoetry and even dates and French verbs to keep herself awake. 

At last the clock chimed its full range and struck twelve times. She satup and felt for the matches. 

Betty and Sylvia, who had gone to sleep prepared, woke with the light, but it was a more difficult matter to rouse Irene. She turned over inbed and grunted, and they were obliged to haul her into a sittingposition before she would open her eyes. 

"What's the matter? Zepps?" she asked drowsily. 

"No, no; it's your birthday party. Look!" beamed the others. 

On a chair by her bedside stood the cake, resplendent with its sixteenlittle lighted candles, and also the tin of condensed milk. Ireneblinked at them in amazement. 

"Jubilate! What a frolicsome joke!" she exclaimed. "I say, this isawfully decent of you!"

"We told you you'd wake up in better spirits, old sport!" purredMarjorie. "I flatter myself those candles look rather pretty. You cantell your fortune by blowing them out. "

"It's a shame to touch them, " objected Irene. 

"But we want some cake, " announced Betty and Sylvia. 

"Go on, give a good puff!" prompted Marjorie. "Then we can count howmany you've blown out. Five! This year, next year, some time, never!This year! Goody! You'll have to be quick about it. It's almost time tobe putting up the banns. Now again. Tinker, tailor, soldier! Lucky you!My plum stones generally give me beggar-man or thief. Silk, satin, muslin, rags; silk, satin! You've got all the luck to-night. Coach, carriage! You're not blowing fair, Renie! You did that on purpose sothat it shouldn't come wheelbarrow! Only one candle left--let's leave itlighted while we cut the rest. "

Everybody agreed that the cake was delicious. They felt they had nevertasted a better in their lives, although it was a specimen of war-timecookery. 

"I wish we could have got some cocoa, " sighed Betty. "I tried to borrowa little and a spirit lamp from Meg Hutchinson, but she says they can'tget any methylated spirit now. "

"Condensed milk is delicious by itself, " suggested Sylvia. 

"Sorry we haven't a spoon, " apologized Marjorie. 

For lack of other means of getting at their sweet delicacy the girlsdipped lead-pencils into the condensed milk and took what they could. 

"It's rather like white honey, " decided Betty after a critical taste. "Yes--I certainly think it's quite topping. It makes me think of Russiantoffee. "

"Don't speak of toffee. We haven't made any since sugar went short. Jemima! I shall eat heaps when the war's over!"

"You greedy pig! You ought to leave it for the soldiers. "

"But there won't be any soldiers then. "

"Yes, there'll be some for years and years afterwards. They'll take sometime, you know, to get well in the hospitals. "

"Then there's a chance for me to nurse, " exclaimed Marjorie. "I'm alwaysso afraid the war will all be over before I've left school, and----"

"I say, what's that noise?" interrupted Irene anxiously. "If the AcidDrop drops on us she'll be very acid indeed. "

For reply, Marjorie popped the condensed milk tin into her wardrobe, blew out the candle, and hopped into bed post-haste, an example whichwas followed by the others with equal dispatch. They were only just intime, for a moment later the door opened, and Miss Norton, clad in ablue dressing-gown, flashed her torchlight into the room. Seeing thegirls all in bed, and apparently fast asleep, she did not enter, butclosed the door softly, and they heard her footsteps walking away downthe corridor. 

"A near shave!" murmured Marjorie. 

"Sh! sh! Don't let's talk. She may come back and listen outside, "whispered Sylvia, with a keen distrust for Miss Norton's notions ofvigilance. 

Next morning the girls in No. 8 Dormitory mentioned that they had hearda noise during the night. 

"Somebody walked down the passage, " proclaimed Lennie Jackson. "Enidthought it was a ghost. "

"I thought it was somebody walking in her sleep, " maintained Daisy Shaw. 

"Oh, how horrid!" shivered Barbara Wright. "I'd be scared to death ofanyone sleep-walking. I'd rather meet a ghost any day. "

"Did you see somebody?" enquired Betty casually. 

"No, it was only what we heard--stealthy footsteps, you know, that movedsoftly along, just as they're described in a horrible book I read in theholidays--_The Somnambulist_ it was called--about a man who was alwaysgoing about in the night with fixed, stony eyes, and appearing on thetops of roofs and all sorts of spooky places. It gives me the creeps tothink of it. Ugh!"

"When people walk in their sleep it's fearfully dangerous to awakenthem, " commented Daisy. 

"Is it? Why?"

"Oh, it gives them such a terrible shock, they often don't get over itfor ages! You ought to take them gently by the hand and lead them backto bed. "

"And suppose they won't go?"

"Ask me a harder! I say, there's the second bell. Scootons nous vite! Doyou want to get an order mark?"

CHAPTER VIII

A Sensation

"Look here, " said Betty to her room-mates that evening, "those poorgirls in No. 8 are just yearning for a sensation. Don't you think weought to be philanthropic and supply it for them?"

"Yearning for a what?" asked Marjorie, pausing with a sponge in her handand reaching for the towel. 

"Yearning for a sensation, " repeated Betty. "Life at an ordinaryboarding-school is extremely dull. 'The daily round, the common task', is apt to pall. What we all crave for is change, and especially changeof a spicy, unexpected sort that makes you jump. "

"I don't want to jump, thanks. "

"Perhaps you don't, but those girls in No. 8 do. They're longing forabsolute creeps--only a ghost, or a burglar, or an air raid, orsomething really stirring, would content them. "

"I'm afraid they'll have to go discontented then. "

"Certainly not. As I remarked before, we ought to be philanthropic andprovide a little entertainment to cheer them up. I have a plan. "

"Proceed, O Queen, and disclose it then. "

"Barbara Wright suggested it to me--not intentionally, of course. We'llplay a rag on them. One of us must pretend to sleep-walk and go intotheir room. It ought to give them spasms. Do you catch on?"

"Rather!" replied the others. 

"But who's going to do the sleep-walking business?" asked Irene. 

"Marjorie's the best actress. We'll leave it to her. Give us a specimennow, old sport, and show us how you'll do it. Oh, that's ripping! It'lltake them in no end. I should like to see Barbara's face. "

Marjorie was always perfectly ready for anything in the way of apractical joke, especially if it were a new variety. The girls had grownrather tired of apple-pie beds or sewn-up nightdress sleeves, but nobodyhad yet thought of somnambulism. 

"I'm not going to stop awake again, though, until twelve, " she objected. "I had enough of it last night. It's somebody else's turn. "

"Whoever happens to wake must call the others, " suggested Irene. 

"We'll leave it at that, " they agreed. 

For two successive nights, however, all four girls slept soundly untilthe seven-o'clock bell rang. They were generally tired, and none of themsuffered from insomnia. On the third night Betty heard the clock striketwo, and, going into Marjorie's cubicle, tickled her awake. 

"Get up! You've got to act Lady Macbeth!" she urged. "Best opportunityfor a star performance you've ever had in your life. You'll take thehouse. "

"I'm so sleepy, " yawned Marjorie. "And, " putting one foot out of bed, "it's so beastly cold!"

"Never mind, the fun will be worth it. We're going to wait about to hearthem squeal. It'll be precious. No, you musn't put on your dressing-gownand bedroom slippers--sleep-walkers never do--you must go as you are. "

"Play up, Marjorie!" decreed the others, who were also awake. 

Thus encouraged, Marjorie rose to the occasion and began to act herpart. There was one difficulty to be overcome. At night a lamp was leftburning in the corridor, but the bedrooms were in darkness. How were theoccupants of No. 8 going to see her? They must be decoyed somehow fromtheir beds. She decided to open the door of their room so as to let in alittle light, then enter, walk round their cubicles, and go out again onto the landing, where she hoped they would follow her. Softly sheentered the door of No. 8, and advanced in a dramatic attitude withoutstretched hands, in imitation of a picture she had once seen of LadyMacbeth. The light from the corridor, though dim, was quite sufficientto render objects distinct. At the first stealthy steps Daisy Shaw awokepromptly. Her shuddering little squeal aroused the others, and theygazed spellbound at the white-robed figure parading in ghostly fashionround their room. Avoiding the furniture, Marjorie, with arms stilloutstretched, tacked back into the corridor. Exactly as she hadanticipated, the girls rose and followed her. They were huddled togetherat the door of their dormitory, watching her with awestruck faces, whenan awful thing happened. Another door opened, and Miss Norton, bluedressing-gown and bedroom slippers and all, appeared on the scene. 

"What's the matter?" she asked sharply. 

"Marjorie Anderson's walking in her sleep!" whispered the girls. 

Now in this horrible emergency Marjorie had to act promptly or not atall. She decided that her best course was to go on shammingsomnambulism. She walked down the corridor, therefore, with a rapid, stealthy step. 

Miss Norton turned on the frightened girls, and, whispering: "Don'tdisturb her on any account!" followed in the wake of her pupil. 

Then began a most exciting promenade. Marjorie, with eyes set in a stonyglare, marched downstairs into the hall. She stood for a moment by thefront door, as if speculating whether to unlock it or not. She couldhear Miss Norton breathing just behind her, and was almost tempted totry the experiment of shooting back at least one bolt, but decided itwas wiser not to run the risk. Instead she walked into the housemistress's study, turned over a few papers in an abstracted fashion, threw them back on to the table, and went towards the window. Here againMiss Norton shadowed her closely, evidently suspecting that she haddesigns of opening it and climbing out. She turned round, however, and, with apparently unseeing eyes, stared in the teacher's face, and stolestealthily back up the stairs. At her own bedroom door she paused, inseeming uncertainty as to whether to enter or not. Miss Norton laid agentle hand on her arm, and guided her quietly into her room and towardsher bed. Marjorie decided to take the hint. Wandering about in anightdress, with bare feet, was a very cold performance, and it was allshe could do to prevent herself from palpably shivering. Keeping up herpart, she gave a gentle little sigh, got into bed, laid her head on herpillow, and closed her eyes. She could feel Miss Norton pulling theclothes over her, and, with another quivering sigh, she sank apparentlyinto deepest slumber. The teacher stayed a few minutes watching her, then, as she never moved, went very quietly away and closed the doorafter her. 

Nothing was said at head-quarters next morning about the night'sadventures, but Miss Norton looked rather carefully at Marjorie, askedher if she felt well, and told her she was to go to Nurse Hall every dayat eleven in the Ambulance Room for a dose of tonic. Marjorie, who hadnot intended her practical joke to run to such lengths, felt ratherashamed of herself, but dared not confess. 

"There'd be a terrific scene if Norty knew, " she said to Betty, andBetty agreed with her. 

In the afternoon, when Marjorie ran up to her cubicle for apocket-handkerchief, to her surprise she found Mrs. Morrison theresuperintending a man who was measuring the window. She wondered why, fornothing, apparently, was wrong with it; but nobody dared ask questionsof the Empress, so she took her clean handkerchief and fled. Later onthat day she learned the reason. 

"We're to have brass bars across our window, " Sylvia informed her. "Iheard the Empress and the Acid Drop talking about it. They're fearfullyexpensive in war-time, but the Empress said: 'Well, the expense cannotbe helped; I daren't risk letting the poor child jump through thewindow. Her door must certainly be locked every night. ' And Norty said:'Yes, it's a very dangerous thing. '"

"Are they putting the bars up for me?" exclaimed Marjorie. 

"Of course. Don't you see, they think you walk in your sleep and mightkill yourself unless you're protected. Nice thing it'll be to have barsacross our window and our door locked at night. It will feel likeprison. I wish to goodness you'd never played such a trick!"

"Well, I'm sure you all wanted me to. It wasn't my idea to begin with, "retorted Marjorie. 

Great was the indignation in No. 9 at the prospect of this defacement oftheir pretty window. The girls talked the matter over. 

"Something's got to be done!" said Betty decidedly. 

[Illustration: THEY WERE HUDDLED TOGETHER, WATCHING HER WITH AWESTRUCKFACES]

"Yes, " groaned Marjorie, "I shall have to own up. There's nothing elsefor it. But I'm not going to tell the Acid Drop. I'm going straight tothe Empress herself. She'll be the more decent of the two. "

"I believe you're right, " agreed Betty. "Look here, it was my idea, soI'm going with you. "

"And I was in it too, " said Irene. 

"And so was I, " said Sylvia. 

"Then we'll all four go in a body, " decided Betty. "Come along, let'sbeard the lioness in her den and get it over. "

Mrs. Morrison was extremely surprised at the tale the girls had to tell. She frowned, but looked considerably relieved. 

"As you have told me yourselves I will let it pass, " she commented, "butyou must each give me your word of honour that there shall be no more ofthese silly practical jokes. I don't consider it at all clever to try tofrighten your companions. Jokes such as these sometimes have veryserious results. Will you each promise?"

"Yes, Mrs. Morrison, on my honour, " replied four meek voices in chorus. 

CHAPTER IX

St. Ethelberta's

The immediate result to Marjorie of her mock somnambulistic adventurewas that she got a very bad cold in her head, due no doubt to walkingabout the passages with bare feet and only her nightdress on. It washighly aggravating, because she was considered an invalid, and herWednesday exeat was cancelled. She had to watch from the infirmarywindow when Dona, escorted by Miss Jones, started off for The Tamarisks. Dona waved a sympathetic good-bye as she passed. She was a kind-heartedlittle soul, and genuinely sorry for Marjorie, though it was rather atreat for her to have Elaine quite to herself for the afternoon. Mrs. Anderson had been justified in her satisfaction that the sisters had notbeen placed in the same hostel. In Marjorie's presence Dona was nothingbut an echo or a shadow, with no personality of her own. At St. Ethelberta's, however, she had begun in her quiet way to make a placefor herself. She was already quite a favourite among her house-mates. They teased her a little, but in quite a good-tempered fashion, andDona, accustomed to the continual banter of a large family, took allchaffing with the utmost calm. She was happier at school than she hadexpected to be. Miss Jones, the hostel mistress, was genial andwarm-hearted, and kept well in touch with her girls. She talked to themabout their various hobbies, and was herself interested in so manydifferent things that she could give valuable hints on photography, bookbinding, raffia-plaiting, poker-work, chip-carving, stencilling, pen-painting, or any other of the handicrafts in which the Juniorsdabbled. She was artistic, and had done quite a nice pastel portrait ofBelle Miller, whose Burne-Jones profile and auburn hair made her anexcellent model. Miss Jones had no lack of sitters when she feltdisposed to paint, for every girl in the house would have been only tooflattered to be asked. 

Dona was a greater success in her hostel than in the schoolroom. Afterher easy lessons with a daily governess she found the standard of herform extremely high. She was not fond of exerting her brains, and herexercises were generally full of "howlers". Miss Clark, her formmistress, was apt to wax eloquent over her mistakes, but she took theteacher's sarcasms with the same stolidity as the girls' teasings. Itwas a saying in the class that nothing could knock sparks out of Dona. Yet she possessed a certain reserve of shrewd common sense which wassometimes apt to astonish people. If she took the trouble to evolve aplan she generally succeeded in carrying it out. 

Now on this particular afternoon when she went alone to The Tamarisksshe had a very special scheme in her head. She had struck up animmensely hot friendship with a Scottish girl named Ailsa Donald, whosetastes resembled her own. Dona was in No. 2 Dormitory and Ailsa in No. 5, and it was the ambition of both to be placed together in adjoiningcubicles. Miss Jones sometimes allowed changes to be made, but, as ithappened, nobody in No. 2 was willing to give up her bed to Ailsa or inNo. 5 to yield place to Dona, so the chums must perforce remain apart. They spent every available moment of the day together, but after the9. 15 bell they separated. 

Dona had asked each of her room-mates to consider whether No. 5 was notreally a more sunny, airy, and comfortable bedroom than No. 2. 

"The dressing-tables are bigger, " she urged to Mona Kenworthy. "You'dhave far more room to spread out your bottles of scent and hairwash andcremolia and things. "

"Thanks, I've plenty of room where I am, and my things are all nicelysettled. I'm not going to move for anybody, and that's flat, " returnedMona. 

Dona next tackled Nellie Mason, and suggested warily that No. 5, beingfarther away from Miss Jones's bedroom, afforded greater opportunitiesfor laughter and jokes without so much danger of being pounced upon. Herfish, however, refused to swallow the tempting bait, and BeatriceElliot, whom she also sounded on the subject, was equally inflexible. 

Most girls would have accepted the inevitable, but Dona was not to bevanquished. She had a dark plan at the bottom of her mind, and consultedElaine about it that afternoon. Elaine laughed, waxed enthusiastic, andsuggested a visit to a bird-fancier's shop down in the town. It was aqueer little place, with cages full of canaries in the window, and anaquarium, and some delightful fox-terrier puppies and Persian kittens onsale, also a squirrel which was running round and round in a kind ofrevolving wheel. 

Elaine and Dona entered, and asked for white mice. 

"Mice?" said the old man in charge. "I've got a pair here that will justsuit you. They're real beauties, they are. Tame? They'll eat off yourhand. Look here!"

He fumbled under the counter, and brought out a cage, from which heproduced two fine and plump specimens of the mouse tribe. They justifiedhis eulogy, for they allowed Dona to handle them and stroke them withoutexhibiting any signs of fear or displeasure. 

"Suppose I were to let them run about the room, " she enquired, "could Iget them back into their cage again?"

"Easy as anything, missie. All you've got to do is to put a bit ofcheese inside. They'll smell it directly, and come running home, andthen you shut the door on them. They'll do anything for cheese. Givethem plenty of sawdust to burrow in, and some cotton-wool to make anest, and they're perfectly happy. Shall I wrap the cage up in brownpaper for you?"

Dona issued from the shop carrying her parcel, and with a bland smileupon her face. 

"If these don't clear Mona out of No. 2 I don't know what will, " shechuckled. 

"How are you going to smuggle them in to Brackenfield?" enquired Elaine. "I think all parcels that you take in are examined. You can't put a cageof mice in your pocket or under your skirt. "

"I've thought of that, " returned Dona. "You and Auntie are going to takeme back to-night. I shall pop the parcel under a laurel bush as we go upthe drive, then before supper I'll manage to dash out and get it, andtake it upstairs to my room. See?"

"I think you're a thoroughly naughty, schemeing girl, " laughed Elaine, "and that I oughtn't to be conniving at such shameful tricks. "

Shakespeare tells us that

 "Some cannot abide a gaping pig, Nor some the harmless necessary cat". 

Many people have their pet dislikes, and as to Mona Kenworthy, the verymention of mice sent a series of cold shivers down her back. 

"Suppose one were to run up my skirt, I'd have a fit. I really shoulddie!" she would declare dramatically. "The thought of them makes meabsolutely creep. I shouldn't mind them so much if they didn't scuttleso hard. Black beetles? Oh, I'd rather have cockroaches any day thanmice!"

It was with the knowledge of this aversion on the part of Mona that Donalaid her plans. She left the cage under the laurel bush in the drive, and by great good luck succeeded in fetching it unobserved and conveyingit to her dormitory, where she unwrapped it and stowed it away in herwardrobe. When she had undressed that evening, and just before thelights were turned out, she placed the cage under her bed. She waiteduntil Miss Clark had made her usual tour of inspection, and the door ofthe room was shut for the night, then, leaning over, she opened the cageand allowed its occupants to escape. They made full use of theirliberty, and at once began to scamper about, investigate the premises, and enjoy themselves. 

"What's that?" said Mona, sitting up in bed. 

Dona did not reply. She pretended to be asleep already. 

"It sounds like a mouse, " volunteered Nellie Mason. 

"Oh, good gracious! I hope it's not in the room. "

The old saying, "as quiet as a mouse", is not always justified in solidfact. On this occasion the two small intruders made as much noise astigers. They began to gnaw the skirting board, and the sound of theirsharp little teeth echoed through the room. Mona waxed quite hysterical. 

"If it runs over my bed I shall shriek, " she declared. 

"Perhaps it's not really in the room, it's probably in the wainscot, "suggested Beatrice Elliot. 

"I tell you I heard it run across the floor. Oh, I say, there it isagain!"

The frolicsome pair continued their revels for some time, and kept thegirls wide awake. When Mona fell asleep at last it was with her headburied under the bed-clothes. Very early in the morning Dona got up, tempted her pets back with some cheese which she had brought from TheTamarisks, and put the cage into her wardrobe again. 

Directly after breakfast Mona went to Miss Jones, and on the plea thather bed was so near the window that she constantly took cold andsuffered from toothache, begged leave to exchange quarters with AilsaDonald, who had a liking for draughts, and was willing to move out ofNo. 2 into No. 5. Miss Jones was accommodating enough to grantpermission, and the two girls transferred their belongings withoutdelay. 

"I wouldn't sleep another night in that dormitory for anything you couldoffer me, " confided Mona to her particular chum Kathleen Drummond. "Isimply can't tell you what I suffered. I'm very sensitive about mice. Iget it from my mother--neither of us can bear them. "

"You might have set a trap, " suggested Kathleen. 

"But think of hearing it go off and catch the mouse! No, I never couldfeel happy in No. 5 again. Miss Jones is an absolute darling to let mechange. "

Dona's share in the matter was not suspected by anybody. Her plot hadsucceeded admirably. Her only anxiety was what to do with the mice, forshe could not keep them as permanent tenants of her wardrobe. The riskof discovery was great. Fortunately she managed to secure the goodoffices of a friendly housemaid, who carried away the cage, and promisedto present the mice to her young brother when she went for her night outto Whitecliffe. To nobody but Ailsa did Dona confide the trick she hadplayed, and Ailsa, being of Scottish birth, could keep a secret. 

CHAPTER X

The Red Cross Hospital

There was just one more exeat for Marjorie and Dona before the holidays. Christmas was near now, and they were looking forward immensely toreturning home. They had, on the whole, enjoyed the term, but the timehad seemed long, and to Dona especially the last weeks draggedinterminably. 

"I'm counting every day, and crossing it off in my calendar, " she saidto Marjorie, as the two stepped along towards The Tamarisks. "I'mgetting so fearfully excited. Just think of seeing Mother and Peter andCyril and Joan again! And there's always the hope that Daddy might getleave and come home. Oh, it would be splendiferous if he did! I supposethere's no chance for any of the boys?"

"They didn't seem to think it likely, " returned Marjorie. "Beviscertainly said he'd have no leave till the spring, and Leonard doesn'texpect his either. Larry may have a few days, but you know he said wemustn't count upon it. "

"Oh dear, I suppose not! I should have liked Larry to be home forChristmas. I wish they'd send him to the camp near Whitecliffe. Hepromised he'd come and take me out, and give me tea at a café. It wouldbe such fun. I want to go to that new café that's just been opened inKing Street, it looks so nice. "

"Perhaps we can coax Elaine to take us there this afternoon, " suggestedMarjorie. 

But when the girls reached The Tamarisks, their cousin had quite adifferent plan for their entertainment. 

"We're going to the Red Cross Hospital, " she announced. "I've alwayspromised to show you over, only it was never convenient before. To-day'sa great day. The men are to have their Christmas tree. "

"Before Christmas!" exclaimed Dona. 

"Why, yes, it doesn't much matter. The reason is that some very grandpeople can come over to-day to be present, so of course our commandantseized the opportunity. It's Lord and Lady Greystones, and AdmiralWebster. There'll be speeches, you know, and all that kind of thing. It'll please the Tommies. Oh, here's Grace! she's going with me. She'sone of our V. A. D. 's. Grace, may I introduce my two cousins, Marjorie andDona Anderson? This is Miss Chalmers. "

Both Elaine and her friend were dressed in their neat V. A. D. Uniforms. Marjorie scanned them with admiring and envious eyes as the four girlsset off together for the hospital. 

"I'd just love to be a V. A. D. , " she sighed. "Oh, I wish I were oldenough to leave school! It must be a ripping life. "

Grace Chalmers laughed. 

"One doesn't always think so early in the morning. Sometimes I'd giveeverything in the world not to have to get up and turn out. "

"So would I, " agreed Elaine. 

"What exactly has a V. A. D. To do?" asked Marjorie. "Do tell me. "

"Well, it depends entirely on the hospital, and what she has undertaken. If she has signed under Government, then she's a full-time nurse, and issent to one of the big hospitals. Elaine and I are only half-timers. Wego in the mornings, from eight till one, and do odd jobs. I took nightduty during the summer while some of the staff had their holidays. "

"Wasn't it hard to keep awake?"

"Not in the least. Don't imagine for a moment that night duty consistsin sitting in a ward and trying not to go to sleep. I was busy all thetime. I had to get the trays ready for breakfast, and cut the bread andbutter. Have you ever cut bread and butter for fifty hungry people?"

"I've helped to get ready for a Sunday-school tea-party, " said Marjorie. 

"Well, this is like a tea-party every day. One night I had to cleanfifty herrings. They were sent as a present in a little barrel, and theCommandant said the men should have them for breakfast. They hadn't beencleaned, so Violet Linwood and I set to work upon them. It was a mosthorrible job. My hands smelt of fish for days afterwards. I didn'tmind, though, as it was for the Tommies. They enjoyed their friedherrings immensely. What else did I have to do in the night? When thebreakfast trays were ready, I used to disinfect my hands and sterilizethe scissors, and then make swabs for next day's dressings. Some of themen don't sleep well, and I often had to look after them, and do thingsfor them. Then early in the morning we woke our patients and washedthem, and gave them their breakfasts, and made their beds and tidiedtheir lockers, and by that time the day-shift had arrived, and we wentoff duty. "

"Tell her how you paddled, " chuckled Elaine. 

"Shall I? Isn't it rather naughty?"

"Oh, please!" implored Marjorie and Dona, who were both deeplyinterested. 

"Well, you see, there's generally rather a slack time between four andhalf-past, and one morning it was quite light and most deliciously warm, and Sister was on duty in the ward, and Violet and I were only waitingabout downstairs, so we stole out and rushed down to the beach andpaddled. It was gorgeous; the sea looked so lovely in that early morninglight, and it was so cool and refreshing to go in the water; and ofcourse there wasn't a soul about--we had the beach all to ourselves. Wewere back again long before Sister wanted us. "

"What do you do in the day-shifts?" asked Marjorie. 

"I'm in the kitchen mostly, helping to prepare dinner. I peel potatoesand cut up carrots and stir the milk puddings. Elaine is on ward dutynow. She'll tell you what she does. "

"Help to take temperatures and chart them, " said Elaine. "Then there areinstruments to sterilize and lotions to mix. And somebody has to get theday's orders from the dispensary and operating-theatre andsterilizing-ward. If you forget anything there's a row! Dressings aregoing on practically all the morning. Sometimes there are operations, and we have to clean up afterwards. I like being on ward duty betterthan kitchen. It's far more interesting. "

"It's a business when there's a new convoy in, " remarked Grace. 

"Rather!" agreed Elaine. "The ambulances arrive, and life's unbearabletill all the men are settled. They have to be entered in the books, withevery detail, down to their diets. They're so glad when they get totheir quarters, poor fellows! The journey's an awful trial to some ofthem. Here we are! Now you'll be able to see everything for yourselves. "

The Red Cross Hospital was a large fine house in a breezy situation onthe cliffs. It had been lent for the purpose by its owner since thebeginning of the war, and had been adapted with very little alteration. Dining-room, drawing-room, and billiard-rooms had been turned intowards, the library was an office, and the best bedroom anoperating-theatre. A wooden hut had been erected in the garden as arecreation-room for convalescents. In summer-time the grounds were fullof deck-chairs, where the men could sit and enjoy the beautiful viewover the sea. 

To-day everybody was collected in Queen Mary Ward. About sixteenpatients were in bed, others had been brought in wheeled chairs, and alarge number, who were fairly convalescent, sat on benches. The roomlooked very bright and cheerful. There were pots of ferns and flowers onthe tables, and the walls had been decorated for the occasion with flagsand evergreens and patriotic mottoes. In a large tub in the centre stoodthe Christmas tree, ornamented with coloured glass balls and tiny flags. Some of the parcels, tied up with scarlet ribbons, were hanging from thebranches, but the greater number were piled underneath. 

Marjorie looked round with tremendous interest. She had never beforebeen inside a hospital of any kind, and a military one particularlyappealed to her. Each of the patients had fought at the front, and hadbeen wounded for his King and his Country. England owed them a debt ofgratitude, and nothing that could be done seemed too much to repay it. Her thoughts flew to Bevis, Leonard, and Larry. Would they ever bebrought to a place like this and nursed by strangers?

"You'd like to go round and see some of the Tommies, wouldn't you?"asked Elaine. 

Marjorie agreed with enthusiasm, and Dona less cordially. Thelatter--silly little goose!--was always scared at the idea of wounds andhospitals, and she was feeling somewhat sick and faint at the sight ofso many invalids, though she did not dare to confess such foolishnessfor fear of being laughed at. She allowed Marjorie to go first, andfollowed with rather white cheeks. She was so accustomed to play secondfiddle that nobody noticed. 

The patients were looking very cheerful, and smiled broadly on theirvisitors. They were evidently accustomed to being shown off by theirnurses. Some were shy and would say nothing but "Yes", "No", or "Thankyou"; and others were conversational. Elaine introduced them like aproud little mother. 

"This is Peters; he keeps us all alive in this ward. He's lost his rightleg, but he's going on very well, and takes it sporting, don't you, Peters?"

"Rather, Nurse, " replied Peters, a freckled, sandy-haired young fellowof about twenty-five. "Only I wish it had been the other leg. You see, "he explained to the visitors, "my right leg was fractured at thebeginning of the war, and I was eighteen months in hospital with it atHarpenden, and they were very proud of making me walk again. Then, soonafter I got back to the front, it was blown off, and I felt they'dwasted their time over it at Harpenden!"

"It was too bad, " sympathized Marjorie. 

"Jackson has lost his right leg too, " said Elaine, passing on to thenext bed. "He was wounded on sentry duty. He'd been out since thebeginning of the war, and had not had a scratch till then. And he'dbeen promised his leave the very next day. Hard luck, wasn't it?"

"The only thing that troubles me, " remarked Jackson, "is that I'd paid aquid out in Egypt to have my leg tattooed by one of those black fellows. He'd put a camel on it, and a bird and a monkey, and my initials and aheart. It was something to look at was that leg. And I've left it overin France. Wish I could get my money back!"

The next patient, Rawlins, was very shy and would not speak, though hesmiled a little at the visitors. 

"He's going on nicely, " explained Elaine, "but I'm afraid he stillsuffers a good deal. He's awfully plucky about it. He doesn't care totalk. He likes just to lie and watch what's going on in the ward. Thisboy in the next bed is most amusing. He sends everyone into fits. He'sonly eighteen, poor lad! Webster, here are two young ladies come to seeyou. Do you know, he can imitate animals absolutely perfectly. Give us aspecimen, Webster, before Lord and Lady Greystones arrive. "

"I'm a bashful sort of a chap----" began the boy humorously. 

"No, no, you're not, " put in Elaine. "I want my cousins to hear the pigsqueak. Please do. "

"Well, to oblige you, Nurse. "

He raised himself a little on his elbow, then, to the girls' surprise, awhole farm-yard seemed to have entered the ward. They could hear a sheepbleating, a duck quacking, a dog barking, hens clucking, a cock crowing, and a pig uttering a series of agonized squeals. It was a most comicalimitation, and really very clever. 

Even Dona laughed heartily, and the colour crept back to her cheeks. Shewas beginning to get over her terror of wounded soldiers. 

"They seem to be able to enjoy themselves, " she remarked. 

"Oh yes, they've all sorts of amusement!" replied Elaine, drawing hercousins aside. "It's wonderful how cheery they keep, not to say noisysometimes. In 'Kitchener' Ward the men have mouth organs and tinwhistles and combs, and play till you're nearly deafened. We don't liketo check them if it keeps up their spirits, poor fellows! You see, there's always such a pathetic side to it. Some of them will be cripplesto the end of their days, and they're still so young. It seems dreadful. Think of Peters and Jackson. A man with one leg can't do very much for aliving unless he's a clerk, and neither of them is educated enough forthat. Their pensions won't be very much. I suppose they'll be taughtsome kind of handicraft. I hope so, at any rate. "

"Are they all ordinary Tommies here?" asked Marjorie. 

"We've no officers. They, of course, are always in a separate hospital. But some of the Tommies are gentlemen, and have been to public schools. There are two over there. We'll go down the other side of the ward andyou'll see them. There's just time before our grand visitors arrive. Wemust stop and say a word at each bed, or the men will feel left out. Wetry not to show any favouritism to the gentlemen Tommies. This isWilkinson--he reads the newspaper through every day and tells us allabout it. It's very convenient when we haven't time to read it forourselves. This is Davis; he comes from Bangor, and can speak Welsh, which is more than I can. This is Harper; he's to get up next week if hegoes on all right. "

"Who is this in the next bed?" asked Marjorie suddenly. 

"Seventeen? That's one of the gentlemen Tommies, " whispered Elaine. "Anold Rugby boy--he knew Wilfred there. Yes, Sister, I'm coming!"

In response to a word from the ward sister, Elaine hurried awayimmediately, leaving her cousins to take care of themselves. 

Marjorie looked again at the patient in No. 17. The twinkling brown eyesseemed most familiar. She glanced at the board on the bed-head and saw:"Hilton Tamworthy Preston". The humorous mouth was smiling at her inevident recognition. She smiled too. 

"Didn't we travel together from Silverwood?" she stammered. 

"Of course we did. I knew you at once when you were going down the otherside of the ward, " he replied. "Did you get to Brackenfield all rightthat day?"

"Yes, thanks. But how did you know that we were going to Brackenfield?"

"Why, you were wearing your badges. My sisters used to be there, so Itwigged at once that you were Brackenfielders. Your teacher wore a badgetoo. I hope she found a taxi all right?"

"No, she didn't. It was a wretched four-wheeler, but we were glad to getanything in the way of a cab. "

"How do you like school?"

"Oh, pretty well! I like it better than Dona does. We're going home nextTuesday for the holidays. "

"My sisters were very happy there, and Kathleen was a prefect. I used tohear all about it. Do you still call Mrs. Morrison 'The Empress'? Iexpect there are plenty of new girls now that Joyce and Kathleenwouldn't remember. "

"Have you been wounded?" asked Dona shyly. 

"Yes, but I'm getting on splendidly. I hope to be up quite soon. TheDoctor promised to have me back at the front before long. "

"We have a brother at the front, and one on the _Relentless_, andanother in training, " volunteered Marjorie, "besides Father, who's atHavre. "

"And I'm one of five brothers, who are all fighting. "

"Didn't you get the V. C. ?"

"Oh yes, but I don't think I did anything very particular! Any of ourmen would have done the same. "

"Have you got it here in your locker?"

"No, my mother has it at home. "

"I'd have loved to see it. "

"I wish I could have shown it to you. I thought it would be safer athome. Hallo! Here come the bigwigs! The show is going to begin. "

All eyes turned towards the door, where the Commandant was ushering inthe guests of the afternoon. Lord Greystones was elderly, with a whitemoustache and a bald head; Lady Greystones, twenty years younger, waspretty, and handsomely dressed in velvet and furs. Admiral Webster, likeNelson, had lost an arm, and his empty sleeve was tucked into the coatfront of his uniform. The patients saluted as the visitors entered, andthose who were able stood up, but the majority had perforce to remainseated. Escorted by the Commandant, the august visitors first made atour of inspection round the ward, nodding or saying a few words to thepatients in bed. Speeches followed from Lord Greystones and the Admiral, and from one of the Governors of the hospital. They were stirring, patriotic speeches, and Marjorie listened with a little thrill, andwished more than ever that she were old enough to take some real part inthe war, and bear a share of the nation's burden. It was wonderful, asthe Admiral said, to think that we are living in history, and that thedeeds done at this present time will go down through all the years whilethe British Empire lasts. 

Then came the important business of stripping the tree. Lord Greystonesand the Admiral cut off the parcels, and Lady Greystones distributedthem to the men, with a pleasant word and a smile for each. The presentsconsisted mostly of tobacco, or little writing-cases with notepaper andenvelopes. 

"It's so fearfully hard to know what to choose for them, " said Elaine, who had found her way back to her cousins. "It's no use giving themthings they can't take away with them. A few of them like books, butvery few. Oh, here come the tea-trays! You can help me to take themround, if you like. The convalescents are to have tea in thedining-room. They've a simply enormous cake; you must go and look at it. It'll disappear to the last crumb. Here's Mother! She'll take you withher and see you back to Brackenfield. I must say ta-ta now, as I've tobe on duty. "

Marjorie lingered a moment, and turned again to Bed 17. 

"Good-bye!" she said hurriedly. "I hope you'll be better soon. "

"Thanks very much, " returned Private Preston. "I'm 'marked out' for aconvalescent home, and shall be leaving here as soon as I can get up. Ihope you'll enjoy the holidays. Don't miss your train this time. Good-bye!"

CHAPTER XI

A Stolen Meeting

At the very first available moment Marjorie went to the library andconsulted the latest number of the _Brackenfield School Magazine_. Sheturned to the directory of past girls at the end and sought the letterP. Here she found:

 1912-1915. PRESTON, Kathleen Hilary } The Manor, 1913-1916. PRESTON, Joyce Benson } Wildeswood, Yorks. 

"Each here for three years, " she soliloquized. "I wonder what they'redoing now? I'll look them up in the 'News of Friends'. This isit:--'Kathleen Preston has been doing canteen work in France under theCroix Rouge Française at a military station. This canteen is run byEnglish women for French soldiers, and is a specially busy one, thehours being from 6 a. M. To 12, and again from 2 to 7 p. M. A recreationhut is in connection with it. Owing to her health, Kathleen returned toEngland on leave, but is now in the north of France driving an ambulancewagon. '

"'Joyce Preston is at Chadley College learning gardening andbee-keeping. She says: 'If any Brackenfield girls want to go in forgardening, do send them here. I am sure they would love it. ' Joyce wasable to get up a very excellent concert for the soldiers in the RedCross Hospital at Chadley, the evening being an immense success. '

"Enterprising girls, " thought Marjorie. "Those are just the sort ofthings I want to do when I leave school. I'd like Kathleen best, becauseshe drives an ambulance wagon. I wish I knew them! I'd write to them andtell them I've seen their brother in hospital, only they'd think itcheek. They must feel proud of him getting the V. C. I know how I shouldcock-a-doodle if one of our brothers won it! Oh dear, we haven't seenLeonard or Bevis for nine months! It's hard to have one's brothers outat the war. I wonder what convalescent home Private Preston will be sentto? I must ask Elaine. "

Next morning, when Marjorie met Dona at the eleven o'clock "break", shefound the latter in a state of much excitement. 

"I had a line from Mother, enclosing a letter from Larry, " sheannounced. "This is what he says:

 "'DEAR OLD BUNTING, "'I hope you're getting on all serene at school, and haven't spoilt the carpets with salt tears. I'm ordered to the Camp at Denley, and shall be going there to-morrow. I promised if I went I'd look you up and take you out to tea somewhere. If I can get leave I'll call on Saturday afternoon at Brackenfield for you and Squibs, so be on the look-out for me. The Mater will square your Head. Love to Squibs and your little self. 

 "'Your affectionate "'LARRY. '"

"Oh, I say, what gorgeous fun!" exclaimed Marjorie. "So he's sent to theDenley Camp after all. It's just on the other side of Whitecliffe. Howabsolutely topping to go out to tea with Larry! I hope he'll get leave. "

The girls confided their exciting news to their room-mates and theirmost intimate friends, with the result that on Saturday afternoon atleast sixteen heads were peeping out of windows on the qui vive to seethe interesting visitor arrive. 

When a figure in khaki strode up the drive and rang the front-door bellthe event was signalled from one hostel to another. Now Mrs. Morrisonwas very faithful to her duties as Principal, and during term-timerarely allowed herself a holiday; but it happened on this particularSaturday that she went for the day to visit friends, and appointed MissNorton deputy in her absence. 

Larry Anderson was shown by the parlour-maid into the drawing-room whereparents were generally received, and left there to wait while hispresence was announced. After an interval of about ten minutes, duringwhich he studied the photographs of the school teams that ornamented themantelpiece, the door opened, and a tall fair lady with light-grey eyesand pince-nez entered. 

"Mrs. Morrison, I presume?" he enquired courteously. 

"I am Miss Norton, " was the reply. "Mrs. Morrison is away to-day, andhas left me in charge. Can I do anything for you?"

"I've come to see my sisters, Marjorie and Dona Anderson, and to ask ifI may take them in to Whitecliffe for an hour or so. "

"I'm sorry, " freezingly, "but that is quite impossible. It is againstthe rules of the school. "

"Yes, of course I know they're not usually allowed out, but the Mater--Imean my mother--wrote to Mrs. Morrison to ask her to let the girls go. "

"Mrs. Morrison left me no instructions on the subject. "

"But didn't she give you my mother's letter?"

"She did not. "

"Or leave it on her desk or something? Can't you find out?"

"I certainly cannot search my Principal's correspondence, " returned MissNorton very stiffly. "It is one of the rules of Brackenfield that nopupil is allowed out without a special exeat, and in the circumstances Ihave no power to grant this. "

"But--oh, I say! The girls will be so awfully disappointed!"

"I am sorry, but it cannot be helped. "

"Well, I suppose I may see them here for half an hour?"

"That also is out of the question. Our rule is: 'No visitors exceptparents, unless by special permission'. "

"But the permission is in my mother's letter. "

"Neither letter nor permission was handed to me by Mrs. Morrison. "

"Excuse me, when I've come all this way, surely I may see my sisters?"

"I have said already that it is impossible, " replied Miss Norton, rising. "I am in charge of the school to-day, and must do my duty. Yoursisters will be returning home next Tuesday, after which you can makeyour own arrangements for meeting them. While they are under my care Ido not allow visitors. "

Miss Norton was a martinet where school rules were concerned, and theBrackenfield code was strict. She knew that Mrs. Morrison would at leasthave allowed Marjorie and Dona to see their brother in the drawing-room, but in the absence of instructions to that effect she chose to keep tothe letter of the law and refuse all male visitors. 

Larry, with an effort, kept his temper. He was extremely annoyed anddisappointed, but he did not forget that he was a gentleman. 

"Then I will not trouble you further, and must apologize forinterrupting you, " he said stiffly but courteously. "I am afraid I havetrespassed upon your time. "

"Please do not mention it, " answered Miss Norton with equal politeness. 

They parted on terms of icy civility. Larry, however, was not to beentirely defeated. He had only left Haileybury six months before, andthere was still much of the schoolboy in him. He was determined to finda way to see his sisters. He paused a moment on the steps after the maidhad shown him out, and, taking a notebook from his pocket, hastilyscribbled a few lines, then, noticing some girls with hockey stickscrossing the quadrangle, he went up to them, and, handing the note tothe one whose looks he considered the most encouraging, said:

"May I ask you to be so kind as to give this to my sister, DonaAnderson? It's very important. "

Then he walked away down the drive. 

Meantime Marjorie and Dona had been waiting in momentary expectation ofa call to the drawing-room. They could hardly believe the bad news whenscouts informed them that their brother had left without seeing them. 

"Gone away!" echoed Dona, almost in tears. 

"But why? Who sent him away?" demanded Marjorie indignantly. 

At this crisis Mena Matthews hurried in with the note. Dona read it, with Marjorie looking over her shoulder. It ran:

 "DEAR OLD BUNTING, "Your schoolmistress guards you like nuns, but I must see you and Squibs somehow. Can you manage to peep over the wall, right-hand side of gate? I'll walk up and down the road for half an hour, on the chance. Yours, "LARRY. "

There was a hockey match that afternoon between the second and thirdteams, and all the school was making its way in the direction of theplaying-fields. Within the next minute, however, Marjorie and Dona, witha select escort of friends to act as scouts, had reached the gardenwall, and were climbing up with an agility that would have delightedtheir gymnasium mistress, could she have witnessed the performance. Larry, in the road below, grinned as the two familiar heads appearedabove the coping. 

"It isn't safe to talk here, " called Marjorie. "Go down that side lanetill you come to some wooden palings. We'll cut across the plantation, and meet you there. "

"All serene!" laughed Larry, hugely enjoying the joke. 

The school grounds were large, covering many acres, and a private roadled down the side towards the kitchen garden. Larry found his sistersalready ensconced on the palings, looking out for him. 

"I say, this is rather the limit, isn't it?" he greeted them. "The Materwrote and said I might take you to Whitecliffe, and that icicle in thedrawing-room wouldn't even so much as let me have a glimpse of you. Isthis place you've got to a convent? Are you both required to take theveil, please?"

"Not just yet. But what happened?" asked Marjorie. "Mena says theEmpress is out this afternoon. Whom did you see?"

"A grim, fair-haired Gorgon in glasses, who withered me with a look. "

"The Acid Drop, surely. "

"Probably. She certainly wasn't sweet. "

"And she wouldn't let us go?" wailed Dona. 

"No, poor old Baby Bunting. It's a rotten business, isn't it? No dragonin a fairy tale could have guarded the princess more closely. If I'dstayed any longer she'd have thrust talons into me. "

"Oh, it's too bad! And you'd promised to take me to have tea at a café. "

"So I did. I meant to give you a regular blow-out, so far as therationing order would allow us. Look here, old sport, I'm ever so sorry. If I'd only foreseen this I'd have brought some cakes and sweets foryou. I'm afraid I've nothing in my pockets except cigarettes and a coughlozenge. Cheer oh! It's Christmas holidays next week, and you'll betucking into turkey before long. "

"How do you like the camp, Larry?" asked Marjorie. 

"First-rate. We have a wooden hut to sleep in. There are thirty of us;we each have three planks on trestles for a bed, and a palliasse to puton it at night, and a straw pillow. We get four blankets apiece. I makemy own bed every night--double one blanket underneath, and roll theothers round me, and have my greatcoat on top if I'm cold. Aunt Ellinorhas lent me an air-cushion, and it's a great boon, because the strawpillow is as hard as a brick. We do route marches and trench-digging, and yesterday I was on scout duty, and three of us captured a sentry. Ifwe'd been at the front, instead of only training, he'd have shot mecertain. "

"Do you have to learn to be a soldier?" asked Dona. 

"Why, of course, you little innocent. That's what the training-camp isfor--to teach us how to scout, and dig trenches, and all the rest ofit. "

"Oh! I thought you just went to the front and fought. "

"It would be a queer war if we did. "

"Are you coming home for Christmas?"

"No, I can't get leave; I only wish I could. "

"Cave!" called Ailsa Donald, the nearest in the line of girls who hadundertaken to keep guard. "Miss Robinson is coming across the field thisway. "

"We must go, or we shall be caught, " said Marjorie. "It's too bad tohave to see you like this. "

"But it's better than nothing, " added Dona. "You can send me thosesweets you talked about for Christmas, if you like. "

"All right, old Bunting! I won't back out of my promise. "

The girls dropped from the palings, and dived into the plantation justbefore Miss Robinson, on her way to the kitchen garden, passed the spot. If she had looked through a crack in the boards she would have seenLarry walking away, but happily her suspicions were not aroused. Marjorie and Dona strolled leisurely towards the hockey field. Thelatter was aggrieved, the former highly indignant. 

"It's absurd, " groused Marjorie, "if one can't see one's own brother, especially when Mother had written to say we might. We had to see himsomehow, and I think it's a great deal worse to be obliged to go likethis and talk over palings than to meet him in the drawing-room. It'sjust like Norty's nonsense. She's full of red-tape notions, and aJack-in-office to-day because the Empress has left her in charge. I feelraggy. "

"So do I, especially to miss the café. I hope Larry won't forget to sendthose sweets. "

CHAPTER XII

The School Union

The last few days of the term were passing quickly. The examinationswere over, though the lists were not yet out. To both Marjorie and Donathey had been somewhat of an ordeal, for the Brackenfield standard washigh. When confronted with sets of questions the girls felt previousslackness in work become painfully evident. It was horrible to have tosit and look at a problem without the least idea of how to solve it; orto find that the dates and facts which ought to have been at theirfinger-ends had departed to distant and un-get-at-able realms of theirmemory. 

"I can think of the wretched things afterwards, " mourned Dona, "but atthe time I'm so flustered, everything I want to remember goes utterlyout of my head. I really knew the boundaries of Germany, only I drewthem wrong on the map; and in the Literature paper I mixed up Pope andDryden, and I put that Sheridan wrote _She Stoops to Conquer_, insteadof Goldsmith. "

"I'm sure I failed in Chemistry, " groused Marjorie. "And the Latin wasthe most awful paper I've ever seen in my life. It would take a B. A. Todo that piece of unseen translation. As for the General Knowledge paper, I got utterly stumped. How should I know what are the duties of a HighSheriff and an Archdeacon, or how many men must be on a jury? EvenMollie Simpson said it was stiff, and she's good at all that kind ofinformation. I wonder they didn't ask us how many currants there are ina Christmas pudding!"

"There won't be many this year, " laughed Dona. "Auntie was sayingcurrants and raisins are very scarce. Probably we shan't get any mincepies. But I don't care. It'll be lovely to be at home again, even if theGermans sink every food ship and only leave us porridge for Christmas. "

The last day of the term was somewhat in the nature of a ceremony atBrackenfield. Lessons proceeded as usual until twelve, when the wholeschool assembled for the reading of the examination lists. Marjoriequaked when it came to the turn of IVa. As she expected, she had failedin Chemistry, though she had just scraped through in Latin, Mathematics, and General Knowledge. Her record could only be considered fair, and toan ambitious girl like Marjorie it was humiliating to find herself loweron the lists than others who were younger than herself. 

"I'll brace up next term and do better, " she thought, as Mrs. Morrisoncongratulated Mollie Simpson, Laura Norris, and Enid Young on theirexcellent work, and deplored the low standard of at least half of theform. 

Dona, greatly to her surprise, had done less badly than she expected, and instead of finding herself the very last, was sixth from the bottom, and actually above Mona Kenworthy--a circumstance which made herliterally gasp with surprise. 

The afternoon was devoted to packing. Each girl found her box in her owncubicle, and started to the joyful task of turning out her drawers. Itwas a jolly, merry proceeding, even though Miss Norton and several otherteachers were hovering about to keep order and ensure that the girlswere really filling their trunks, instead of racing in and out of thedormitories and talking, as would certainly have been the case if theyhad been left to their own devices. By dint of good generalship on thepart of the House Mistress and her staff, St. Elgiva's completed itsarrangements twenty minutes before the other hostels, and had thereforethe credit of being visited first by the janitor and the gardener, whoseduty it was to carry down the luggage. The large boxes were taken awaythat evening in carts to the station, and duly dispatched, each girlkeeping her necessaries for the night, which she would take home withher in a hand-bag. 

"No prep. After tea to-day, thank goodness!" said Betty Moore, collecting her books and stowing them away in her locker. "I don't wantto see this wretched old history again for a month. I'm sick ofimproving my mind. I'm not going to read a single line during theholidays, not even stories. I'll go out riding every day, even if it'swet. Mother says my pony's quite well again, and wants exercising. He'llget it, bless him, while I'm at home. "

"What do we do this evening instead of prep. ?" asked Marjorie. "Games, Isuppose, or dancing?"

"Why, no, child, it's the School Union, " returned Betty, slamming thedoor of her locker. 

"What's that?"

"Great Minerva! don't you know? You're painfully new even yet, MarjorieAnderson. There, don't get raggy; I'll tell you. On the last evening ofevery term the whole school meets in the big hall--just the girls, without any of the teachers. The prefects sit on the platform, and thehead girl reads a kind of report about all that's happened during theterm--the games and that sort of thing, and what she and the prefectshave noticed, and what the Societies have done, and news of old girls, and all the rest of it. Then anybody who likes can make comments, orsuggestions for next term, or air grievances. It's a kind of SchoolCouncil meeting, and things are often put to the vote. It gets quiteexciting. We don't have supper till 8. 30, so as to give us plenty oftime. We all eat an extra big tea, so as to carry us on. "

"I'm glad you warned me, " laughed Marjorie. "Do they bring in morebread-and-butter?"

"Yes, loads more, and potted meat, and honey and jam. We have a goodtuck-out, and then only cocoa and buns later on. It's not formal supper. You see, we've packed our white dresses, and can't change this evening. We've only our serges left here. The meeting's rather a stunt. We have ajinky time as a rule. "

By five o'clock every girl in the school had assembled in the big hall. Though no mistresses were present, the proceedings were neverthelessperfectly orderly, and good discipline prevailed. On the platform satthe prefects, the chair being taken by Winifrede Mason, the head girl. Winifrede was a striking personality at Brackenfield, and filled herpost with dignity. She was eighteen and a half, tall, and finely built, with brown eyes and smooth, dark hair. She had a firm, clever face, anda quiet, authoritative manner that carried weight in the school, andcrushed any symptoms of incipient turbulence amongst Juniors. Many ofthe girls would almost rather have got into trouble with Mrs. Morrisonthan incur the displeasure of Winifrede, and a word of praise from herlips was esteemed a high favour. She did not believe in what she termed"making herself too cheap", and did not encourage the prefects to mix atall freely with Intermediates or Juniors, so that to most of the girlsshe seemed on a kind of pedestal--a member of the school, indeed, andyet raised above the others. She was just, however, and on the whole agreat favourite, for, though she kept her dignity, she never lost touchwith the school, and always voiced the general sentiments. She stood upnow on the platform and began what might be termed a presidentialspeech. 

"Girls, we've come to the end of the first term in another school year. Some of you, like myself, are old Brackenfielders, and others havejoined us lately, and are only just beginning to shake down into ourways. It's for the sake of these that I want just briefly torecapitulate some of the standards of this school. We've always heldvery lofty ideals here, and we who are prefects want to make sure thatduring our time they are kept, and that we hand them on unsullied tothose who come after us. What is the great object that we set ourselvesto aim at? Perhaps some of you will say, 'To do well at our lessons', or'To win at games'. Well, that's all a part of it. The main thing thatwe're really striving for is the formation of character. There's nothingfiner in all the world. And character can only be formed by overcomingdifficulties. Every hard lesson you master, or every game you win, helpsyou to win it. There are plenty of difficulties at school. Nobody findsit plain sailing. When you're cooped up with so many other girls yousoon find you can't have all your own way, and it must be agive-and-take system if you're to live peaceably with your fellows. Whenthis great war broke out, people had begun to say that our young men ofBritain had grown soft and ease-loving, and thought of nothing exceptpleasure. Yet at the nation's call they flung up all they had andflocked to enlist, and proved by their magnificent courage the grit thatwas in them after all. Our women, too--Society women who had been, perhaps justly, branded as 'mere butterflies'--put their shoulders tothe wheel, and have shown how they, too, could face dangers anddifficulties and privations. As nurses, ambulance drivers, canteenworkers, telephone operators, some have played their part in the fieldof war; and their sisters at home have worked with equal courage tomake munitions, and supply the places left vacant by the men. Now, Idon't suppose there is a girl in this room who does not call herselfpatriotic. Let her stop for a moment to consider what she means. Itisn't only waving the Union Jack, and singing 'God Save the King', andknitting socks for soldiers. That's the mere outside of it. There's afar deeper part than that. We're only schoolgirls now, but in a fewyears we shall become a part of the women of the nation. In the futureBritain will have to depend largely on her women. Let them see that theyfit themselves for the burden! We used to be told that the Battle ofWaterloo was won on the playing-fields of our great public schools. Well, I believe that many future struggles are being decided by the lifein our girls' schools of to-day. Though we mayn't realize it, we're allplaying our part in history, and though our names may never go down toposterity, our influence will. The watchwords of all patriotic women atpresent are 'Service and Sacrifice'. In the few years that we are hereat school let us try to prepare ourselves to be an asset to the nationafterwards. Aim for the highest--in work, games, and character. As theold American said: 'Hitch your wagon to a star', because it's better toattempt big things, even if you fail, than to be satisfied with a lowideal. 

"It is encouraging for us Brackenfielders to know what good work some ofour old girls are doing to help their country. I'm going to read you thelatest news about them. 

"Mary Walker has been nursing for fifteen months at a hospital in Cairo, and is now at the Halton Military Hospital, hoping to be sent out toFrance after six months' further training. She enjoyed her work inEgypt, and found many opportunities for interesting expeditions in heroff-duty time. She went for camel rides to visit the tombs in thedesert, had moonlight journeys to the Pyramids, and sailed up the Nile. 

"Emily Roberts is assistant cook at the Brendon Hospital, which has twohundred beds. She says they make daily about twelve gallons of milkpudding, soup, porridge, &c. , and about five gallons of sauce. The hoursare 6. 30 to 1. 30, then either 1. 30 to 5, or 5 till 9 p. M. She has losther brother at the front. He obtained very urgent and importantinformation, and conveyed it safely back. While telephoning it he washit by a sniper's bullet, but before he passed away he managed to givethe most important part of the message. 

"Gladys Mellor has just had a well-earned holiday after very strenuouswork at the Admiralty. She not only does difficult translation work, buthas learnt typewriting for important special work. 

"Alison Heatley (née Robson) is in Oxford with her two tiny boys. Shelost her husband in the summer. At the time he was hit he was commandinga company; they had advanced six miles, and were fighting in a Germantrench, when he was shot through the lungs and in the back. He was takento hospital and at first improved, but then had a relapse. Alison waswith him when he died. He is buried in a lovely spot overlooking thesea, with a pine wood at the back. He had been mentioned in dispatchestwice and had won the Military Cross. 

"Evelyn Scott has been transferred from Leabury Red Cross Hospital toKing's Hospital, London. She says she spends the whole of her time inthe ward kitchen, except for bed-making and washing patients. Everythingis of white enamel, and she has to scrub an endless supply of this andhelp to cook countless meals. Evelyn has just lost her fiancé. He waskilled by a German shell while on sentry duty. He warned the rest of hiscomrades of the danger, and they were unhurt, but he was killedinstantly. 

"Hester Strong and Doris Hartley were sent to a kindergarten summerschool in Herefordshire, each in charge of three children, to whosephysical comfort and education they had to attend. They lived in littlecottages, and Hester taught geography and botany, and Doris farm study, and they took the children for botanical expeditions. 

"Lilian Roy has finished her motoring course at a training-school forthe R. A. C. Driving certificate, and is gaining her six months' generalpractice by driving for a Hendy's Stores. She had her van in the Cityduring the last raid, and took refuge in a cellar. She hopes soon to beready for ambulance work. 

"Annie Barclay is acting quartermaster for their Red Cross Hospital. Sheis always on duty, and has charge of the kit, linen, and stores. 

"You see, " continued Winifrede, "what splendid work our oldBrackenfielders are doing in the world. Now I want to turn to some ofour own activities, and I will call upon our games captain and thesecretaries of the various societies to read their reports. "

Stella Pearson, the games captain, at once rose. 

"I think we're getting on fairly well at hockey, " she announced. "Allthree teams are satisfactory. The match with Silverton was played inglorious weather. The game was hard and very fast, but there was a greatdeal of fouling on both sides. We scored three goals during the firsthalf, and though our forwards pressed hard, our fourth and last goal wasnot gained till just before the end. We should probably have scored morehad not the forwards been 'offside' so often. At the beginning of thesecond half Silverton pressed our defence hard, and, getting away withthe ball, shot two goals, one after another. Both sides played hard, andthe game was well contested. It was only spoilt by the fouling. When thewhistle went for 'time', the score was 4-2 in our favour, and we foundthat the unexpected had happened and that we had actually beatenSilverton. 

"The match with Penley Club, as you know, we lost, and the match withSiddercombe was a draw, so we may consider ourselves to be just abouteven this term. Next term we must brace up and show we can do better. Wemustn't be satisfied till Brackenfield has beaten her record. "

Reports followed next from the various societies, showing what work hadbeen done in "The General Reading Competition", "The PhotographicSociety", "The Natural History Association", "The Art Union" and "TheHandicrafts Club". Specimens of the work of these various activities hadbeen laid out on tables, and as soon as the reports had been read thegirls were asked to walk round and look at them. Marjorie, in companywith Mollie Simpson, made a tour of inspection. The show was really verygood. The enlarging apparatus, lately acquired by the PhotographicSociety, had proved a great success, and several girls exhibitedbeautiful views of the school. Moths, butterflies, fossils, shells, andseaweeds formed an interesting group for the Natural HistoryAssociation, and the Handicrafts Club had turned out a wonderfulselection of toys that were to be sent to the Soldiers' and Sailors'Orphanage. "The Golden Rule Society" had quite a respectable pile ofsocks ready to be forwarded to the front. 

Marjorie said very little as she went the round of the tables, but shethought much. She had not realized until that evening all thatBrackenfield stood for. She began to feel that it was worth while to bea member of such a community. She meant to try really hard next term, and some day--who knew?--perhaps her name might be read out as that ofone who, in doing useful service to her country, was carrying out thetraditions of the school. 

CHAPTER XIII

The Spring Term

Both Marjorie and Dona described their holidays as "absolutely topping". To begin with, Father had nearly a week's leave. He could not arrive forChristmas, but he was with them for New Year's Day, and by the greatestgood luck met Bevis, who was home on a thirty-six-hours leave. To havetwo of their dear fighting heroes back at once was quite an unexpectedtreat, and though there were still two vacant places in the circle, thefamily party was a very merry one. They were joined by a new member, forNora and her husband came over, bringing their ten-weeks-old baby boy, and Marjorie, Dona, and Joan felt suddenly quite grown-up in their newcapacity of "Auntie". Dona in especial was delighted with her weenephew. 

"I've found out what I'm going to do when I leave school, " she toldMarjorie rather shyly. "I shall go to help at a crèche. When Winifredewas reading out that 'News of Old Girls' I felt utterly miserable, because I knew I could never do any of those things; a hospital makes mesick, and I'd be scared to death to drive a motor ambulance. I thoughtWinifrede would call me an utter slacker. But I could look after babiesin a crèche while their mothers work at munitions. I should simply loveit. And it would be doing something for the war in a way, especially ifthey were soldiers' children. I'm ever so much happier now I've thoughtof it. I'm going to ask to take 'Hygiene' next term, because GertieTemple told me they learnt how to mix a baby's bottle. "

"And I'm going to ask to take 'First Aid', " replied Marjorie, with equalenthusiasm. "You have to pass your St. John's Ambulance before you canbe a V. A. D. I'll just love practising bandaging. "

The girls went back to school with less reluctance than their mother hadexpected. It was, of course, a wrench to leave home, and for Dona, atany rate, the atmosphere was at first a little damp, but once installedin their old quarters at Brackenfield they were caught in the train ofbustling young life, and cheered up. It is not easy to sit on your bedand weep when your room-mates are telling you their holiday adventures, singing comic songs, and passing round jokes. Also, tears wereunfashionable at Brackenfield, and any girl found shedding them wasliable to be branded as "Early Victorian", or, worse still, as a"sentimental silly". 

Marjorie happened to be the first arrival in Dormitory No. 9. She drewthe curtains of her cubicle and began to unpack, feeling rather glad tohave the place to herself for a while. When the next convoy of girlsarrived from the station, Miss Norton entered the room, escorting astranger. 

"This is your cubicle, " she explained hurriedly. "Your box will bebrought up presently, and then you can unpack, and put your clothes inthis wardrobe and these drawers. The bath-rooms are at the end of thepassage. Come downstairs when you hear the gong. "

The house mistress, whose duties on the first day of term were onerous, departed like a whirlwind, leaving the stranger standing by her bed. Marjorie drew aside her curtains and introduced herself. 

"Hallo! I suppose you're a new girl? You've got Irene's cubicle. Iwonder where she's to go. I'm Marjorie Anderson. What's your name?"

"Chrissie Lang. I don't know who Irene is, but I hope we shan't fightfor the cubicle. The bed doesn't look big enough for two, unless she'sas thin as a lath. There's a good deal of me!"

Marjorie laughed, for the new-comer sounded humorous. She was a tall, stoutly-built girl with a fair complexion, flaxen hair, and blue eyes, the pupils of which were unusually large. Though not absolutely pretty, she was decidedly attractive-looking. She put her hand-bag on the bed, and began to take out a few possessions, opened her drawers, andinspected the capacities of her wardrobe. 

"Not too much room here!" she commented. "It reminds me of a cabin onboard ship. I wonder they don't rig up berths. I hope they won't be longbringing up my box. Oh, here it is!"

Not only did the trunk arrive, but Betty and Sylvia also put in anappearance, both very lively and talkative, and full of news. 

"Hallo, Marjorie! Do you know Renie's been moved to No. 5? She wants tobe with Mavie Chapman. They asked Norty before the holidays, and nevertold us a word. Wasn't it mean?"

"And Lucy's in the same dormitory!"

"Molly's brought a younger sister--Nancy, her name is. We travelledtogether from Euston. She's in St. Ethelberta's, of course--rather ajolly kid. "

"Annie Grey has twisted her ankle, and won't be able to come back for aweek. Luck for her!"

"Valerie Hall's brother has been wounded, and Magsie Picton's brotherhas been mentioned in dispatches, and Miss Duckworth has lost hernephew. "

"Miss Pollard's wearing an engagement ring, but she won't tell anybodyanything about it; and Miss Gordon was married in the holidays--a warwedding. Oh yes! she has come back to school, but we've got to call herMrs. Greenbank now. Won't it be funny? The Empress has two little niecesstaying with her--they're five and seven, such sweet little kiddies, with curly hair. Their father's at the front. "

The new girl listened with apparent interest as Betty and Sylvia rattledon, but she did not interrupt, and waited until she was questionedbefore she gave an account of herself. 

"I live up north, in Cumberland. Yes, I've been to school before. I'veone brother. No, he's not at the front. I haven't unpacked his photo. Ican't tell whether I like Brackenfield yet; I've only been here half anhour. "

As she still seemed at the shy stage, Betty and Sylvia stoppedcatechizing her and concerned themselves with their own affairs. Thenew-comer went on quietly with her unpacking, taking no notice of herroom-mates, but when the gong sounded for tea she allowed Betty andSylvia to pass, then looked half-appealingly, half-whimsically atMarjorie. 

"May I go down with you?" she asked. "I don't know my way about yet. Sorry to be a nuisance. You can drop me if you like when you've landedme in the dining-room. I don't want to tag on. "

At the end of a week opinions in Dormitory No. 9 were divided on thesubject of Chrissie Lang. Betty and Sylvia frankly regretted Irene, andwere not disposed to extend too hearty a welcome to her substitute. Itwas really in the first instance because Betty and Sylvia weredisagreeable to Chrissie that Marjorie took her up. It was more in aspirit of opposition to her room-mates than of philanthropy towards thenew-comer. Betty and Sylvia were inclined to have fun together and leaveMarjorie out of their calculations, a state of affairs which she hotlyresented. During the whole of last term she had not found a chum. Shewas rather friendly with Mollie Simpson, but Mollie was in anotherdormitory, and this term had been moved into IV Upper A, so that theywere no longer working together in form. It was perhaps only naturalthat she adopted Chrissie; she certainly found her an amusing companion, if nothing more. Chrissie was humorous, and always inclined for fun. She kept up a constant fire of little jokes. She would draw absurdpictures of girls or mistresses on the edge of her blotting-paper, orwrite parodies on popular poems. She was evidently much attracted toMarjorie, yet she was one of those people with whom one never growsreally intimate. One may know them for years without ever getting beyondthe outside crust, and the heart of them always remains a sealed book. There is a certain magnetism in friendship. It is perhaps only once ortwice in a lifetime that we meet the one with whom our spirit can reallyfuse, the kindred soul who seems always able to understand andsympathize. In the hurry and bustle of school life, however, it issomething to have a congenial comrade, if it is only a girl who will sitnext you at meals, walk to church with you in crocodile, and take yourside in arguments with your room-mates. 

The spring term at Brackenfield proved bitterly cold. In February thesnow fell thickly, and one morning the school woke to find a whiteworld. In Dormitory 9 matters were serious, for the snow had drifted inthrough the open window and covered everything like a winding-sheet. Itwas a new experience for the girls to see dressing-tables andwash-stands shrouded in white, and a drift in the middle of the floor. They set to work after breakfast with shovels and toiled away tillnearly school-time before they had made a clearance. 

"I feel like an Alpine traveller, " declared Chrissie. "If things go onat this rate the school will have to provide St. Bernard dogs to rescueus in the mornings. "

"The newspapers say it's the worst frost since 1895, " remarked Sylvia. 

"I think it's the limit, " groused Betty. "Give me good open huntingweather. I hate snow. "

"Hockey'll be off, " said Marjorie. "It's a grizzly nuisance about thematch on Saturday. "

Though the usual outdoor games were perforce suspended, the schoolnevertheless found an outlet for its energies. There was a little hillat the bottom of the big playing-field, and down this the girls managedto get some tobogganing. They had no sleds, but requisitioned tea-traysand drawing-boards, often with rather amusing results, thoughfortunately the snow was soft to fall in. Another diversion was a mockbattle. The combatants threw up trenches of snow, and, arming themselveswith a supply of snowballs, kept up a brisk fire until ammunition wasexhausted. It was a splendid way of keeping up the circulation, and thegirls would run in after this exercise with crimson cheeks. At night, however, they suffered very much from the cold. Open bedroom windowswere a cardinal rule, and, with the thermometer many degrees below zero, the less hardy found it almost impossible to keep warm. Marjorie, whowas rather a chilly subject, lay awake night after night and shivered. It was true that hot bricks were allowed, but with so many beds to lookafter, the maids did not always bring them up at standard heat, andMarjorie's half-frozen toes often found only lukewarm comfort. Afterenduring the misery for three nights, she boldly went to Mrs. Morrisonand begged permission to be taken to Whitecliffe to buy an india-rubberhot-water bag, which she could herself fill in the bath-room. Part ofthe Empress's success as a Principal was due to the fact that she wasalways ready to listen to any reasonable demands. Hers was no red-taperule, but a system based on sensible methods. She smiled as Marjorierather bashfully uttered her request. 

"Fifteen other girls have asked me the same thing, " she replied. "Youmay all go into Whitecliffe this afternoon with Miss Duckworth, and seewhat you can find at the Stores. "

Rejoicing in this little expedition, the favoured sixteen set off at twoo'clock, escorted by the mistress. There had been great drifts on thehigh road, and the snow was dug out and piled on either side inglistening heaps. The white cliffs and hills and the grey sky and seagave an unusual aspect to the landscape. A flock of sea-gulls whirledround on the beach, but of other birds there were very few. Even theclumps of seaweed on the shore looked frozen. Nature was at herdreariest, and anyone who had seen the place in the summer glory ofheather, bracken, and blue sea could hardly have believed it to be thesame. The promenade was deserted, the pier shut up, and those peoplewhose business took them into the streets hurried along as if they wereanxious to get home again. 

The girls found it was not such an easy matter as they had imagined toprocure sixteen hot-water bags. Owing to the war, rubber was scarce, andcustomers had already made many demands upon the supply. The Storescould only produce nine bags. 

"I have some on order, and expect them in any day, " said the assistant. "Shall I send some out for you when they come?"

Knowing by experience that goods thus ordered might take weeks toarrive, the girls declined, and set out to visit the various chemists'shops in the town, with the result that by buying a few at each, they inthe end made up their numbers. The sizes and prices of the bags variedconsiderably, but the girls were so glad to get any at all, that theywould have cheerfully paid double if it had been necessary. 

Feeling thoroughly satisfied with their shopping expedition, they turnedtheir steps again towards Brackenfield, up the steep path past thechurch, over the bridge that spanned the railway, and along the cliffwalk that led from the town on to the moor. As they passed the end ofthe bare beech avenue, they met a party of wounded soldiers from the RedCross Hospital, in the blue convalescent uniform of His Majesty'sforces. One limped on crutches, and one was in a Bath chair, wheeled bya companion; most of the rest wore bandages either on their arms orheads. Marjorie looked at them attentively, hoping to recognize some ofthe patients she had seen at the Christmas-tree entertainment, but thesewere all strangers, and she reflected that the other set must have beenpassed on by now to convalescent homes. She was walking at the end ofthe line, and Miss Duckworth did not happen to be looking. A suddenspirit of mischief seized her, and hastily stooping and catching up ahandful of snow, she kneaded it quickly, and threw it at Mollie Simpsonto attract her attention. It was done on the spur of the moment, insheer fun. But, alas for Marjorie! her aim was not true, and instead ofhitting Mollie her missile struck one of the soldiers. He chuckled withdelight, and promptly responded. In a moment his companions werekneading snowballs and pelting the school. Now wounded Tommies areregarded as very privileged persons, and the girls, instantly catchingthe spirit of the encounter, broke line and began to throw backsnowballs. 

"Girls, girls!" cried Miss Duckworth's shocked and agitated voice; "comealong at once! Don't look at those soldiers. Attention! Form lineimmediately! Quick march!"

Rather flushed and flurried, her flock controlled themselves, consciousthat they had overstepped the mark, and under the keen eye of theirmistress, who now brought up the rear instead of leading, they filed offin their former crocodile. Every one of the sixteen knew that there wastrouble in store for her. They discussed it uneasily on the way home. Nor were they mistaken. At tea-time Miss Rogers, after ringing thesilence bell, announced that those girls who had been to Whitecliffethat afternoon must report themselves in Mrs. Morrison's study at 5. 15. 

It is one thing to indulge in a moment's fun, and quite another to paythe price afterwards. Sixteen very rueful faces were assembled in thepassage outside the study by 5. 15. Nobody would have had the courage toknock, but the Principal herself opened the door, and bade them enter. They filed in like a row of prisoners. Mrs. Morrison marshalled theminto a double line opposite her desk, then, standing so as to commandthe eyes of all, she opened the vials of her wrath. She reproached themfor unladylike conduct, loss of dignity, and lack of discipline. 

"Where are the traditions of Brackenfield, " she asked, "if you can sofar forget yourselves as to descend to such behaviour? One would imagineyou were poor ignorant girls who had never been taught better; indeed, many a Sunday-school class would have had more self-respect. Whoeverbegan it"--here she looked hard at Marjorie--"is directly responsiblefor lowering the tone of the school. Think what disgrace it brings onthe name of Brackenfield for such an act to be remembered against herpupils! Knit and sew for the soldiers, get up concerts for them, andspeak kindly to them in the hospitals, but never for a moment forget inyour conduct what is due both to yourself and to them. This afternoon'soccurrence has grieved me more than I can express. I had believed that Icould trust you, but I find to my sorrow that I was mistaken. "

CHAPTER XIV

The Secret Society of Patriots

Marjorie's friendship for Chrissie Lang at present flamed at red heat. Marjorie was prone to violent attachments, her temperament wasexcitable, and she was easily swayed by her emotions. She would take upnew people with enthusiasm, though she was apt to drop them afterwards. Since her babyhood "Marjorie's latest idol" had been a byword in thefamily. She had worshipped by turns her kindergarten teacher, a littlecurly-headed boy whom she met at dancing-class, her gymnasium mistress, at least ten separate form-mates, the Girl Guides' captain, and a friendof Nora's. Her affection varied according to the responsiveness of theobject, though in some cases she had even been ready to love withoutreturn. Chrissie, however, seemed ready to meet her half-way. She wasenthusiastic and demonstrative and rather sentimental. To be sure, shegave Marjorie very little of her confidence; but the latter, who likedto talk herself and pour out her own ideas, did not trouble on thatscore, and was quite content to have found a sympathetic listener. Thetwo girls were inseparable. They walked round the quadrangle arm inarm; they sat side by side in any class where liberty to choose placeswas allowed. They exchanged picture post cards, foreign stamps, andcrests; they gave each other presents, and wrote sentimental littlenotes which they hid under one another's pillows. 

The general opinion of the form was that Marjorie had "got it badly". 

"Can't imagine what she sees in Chrissie Lang myself, " sniffed AnnieTurner. "She's not particularly interesting. Her nose is too big, andshe can't say her r's properly. "

"She's mean, too, " added Francie Sheppard. "I'm collecting for theSeamen's Mission, and she wouldn't even give me a penny. "

"She tried to truckle to Norty, too, " put in Patricia Lennox. "Shebought violets in Whitecliffe, and laid them on the desk in Norty'sstudy, with a piece of cardboard tied to them with white ribbon, and'With love from your devoted pupil Chrissie' written on it. Norty gavethem back to her, though, and said she'd made it a rule to acceptnothing from any girl, not even flowers. "

"Good for Norty!"

"Oh, trust the Acid Drop not to lapse into anything sentimental! She'sas hard as nails. The devoted-pupil dodge doesn't go down with her. "

Marjorie had to run a considerable gauntlet of chaff from herschoolmates, but that did not trouble her in the least. A littleopposition, indeed, added spice to the friendship. Her home letters werefull of praise of her new idol. 

"Chrissie is the most adorable girl you can imagine, " she wrote to hermother. "We do everything together now. I can't tell you how glad I amshe has come to school. I tell her all about Bevis and Leonard andLarry, and she is so interested and wants to know just where they areand what they are doing. She says it is because they are my brothers. Dona does not care for her very much, but that is because she is suchgreat friends with Ailsa Donald. I took a snapshot of Chris yesterday, and she took one of me. I'll send them both to you as soon as we havedeveloped and printed them. We don't get much time to do photography, because we're keen on acting this term, and I'm in the Charade Society. Chrissie has made me a handkerchief in open-hem stitch, and embroideredmy name most beautifully on it. I wish I could sew as well as she does. I lost it in the hockey field, and did not find it for three days, and Idared not tell Chrissie all that time, for fear she might be offended. She's dreadfully sensitive. She says she has a highly nervous organism, and I think it's true. "

It was about this time that it was rumoured in St. Elgiva's that IreneAndrews had started a secret society. What its name or object might benobody knew, but its votaries posed considerably for the benefit of therest of the hostel. They preserved an air of aloofness and dignity, asif concerned with weighty matters. It was evident that they had apassword and a code of signals, and that they met in Irene's dormitory, with closed door and a scout to keep off intruders. When pressed togive at least a hint as to the nature of their proceedings, they repliedthat they would cheerfully face torture or the stake before consentingto reveal a single word. Now Dormitory No. 9 had never quite forgivenIrene for deserting in favour of No. 5 and Mavie Chapman. Its occupantsdiscussed the matter as they went to bed. 

"Renie's so fearfully important, " complained Betty. "I asked hersomething this morning, and she said: 'Don't interrupt me, child, ' as ifshe were the King busy on State affairs. "

"She'll hardly look at us nowadays, " agreed Sylvia plaintively. 

"I'll tell you what, " suggested Marjorie. "Let's get up a secret societyof our own. It would take the wind out of Renie's sails tremendously tofind that we had passwords and signals and all the rest of it. She'd bemost fearfully annoyed. "

"It's a good idea, " assented Sylvia, "but what could we have a secretsociety about?"

"Well, why not have it a sort of patriotic one, to do all we can to helpthe war, knit socks for the soldiers, and that kind of thing?"

"We knit socks already, " objected Betty. 

"That doesn't matter, we must knit more, that's all. There must be heapsof things we can do for the war. Besides, it's the spirit of the thingthat counts. We pledge ourselves to give our last drop of blood for ourcountry. We've all of us got fathers and brothers who are fighting. "

"Chrissie hasn't anybody at the front, " demurred Betty, ratherspitefully. 

"That's not Chrissie's fault. We're not all born with brothers. Becauseyou're lucky enough to have an uncle who's an admiral, you needn't quitesquash other people!"

"How you fly out! I was only mentioning a fact. "

"Anybody with tact wouldn't have mentioned it. "

"What shall we call the society?" asked Sylvia, bringing the disputantsback to the original subject of the discussion. 

"How would 'The Secret Society of Patriots' do?" suggested Chrissie. 

"The very thing!" assented Marjorie warmly. "Trust Chrissie to hit onthe right name. We'll let just a few into it--Patricia, perhaps, andEnid and Mollie, but nobody else. We must take an oath, and regard it asabsolutely binding. "

"Like the Freemasons, " agreed Sylvia. "I believe they kill anybody whobetrays them. "

"We'll have an initiation ceremony, " purred Marjorie, highly delightedwith the new venture. "And of course we'll arrange a password andsignals, and I don't see why we shouldn't have a cryptogram, and writeeach other notes. It would be ever so baffling for the rest to findletters lying about that they couldn't read. They'd be most indignant. "

"Right you are! It'll be priceless! We'll do Irene this time!"

The new society at once established itself upon lines of utmost secrecy. Its initiates found large satisfaction in playing it off against theirrivals. Though they preserved its objects in a halo of mystery, theyallowed just the initials of its name to leak out, so as to convince thehostel of its reality. Unfortunately they had not noticed that S. S. O. P. Spells "sop", but the outside public eagerly seized at such anopportunity, and nicknamed them "the Milksops" on the spot. As they hadexpected, Irene and her satellites were highly affronted at anopposition society being started, and flung scorn at its members. 

"We mustn't mind them, " urged Marjorie patiently. "It's really acompliment to us that they're so annoyed. We'll just go on our own wayand take no notice. I've invented a beautiful cryptogram. They'll neverguess it without the key, if they try for a year. "

The code of signals was easily mastered by the society, but they jibbedat the cryptogram. 

"It's too difficult, and I really haven't the brains to learn it, " saidBetty decidedly. 

"It's as bad as lessons, " wailed Sylvia. 

Even Chrissie objected to being obliged to translate notes written incipher. 

"It takes such a long time, " she demurred. 

"I thought _you'd_ have done it, " said Marjorie reproachfully. "I'mafraid you don't care for me as much as you did. "

The main difficulty of the society was to find sufficient outlets forits activities. At present, knitting socks seemed the only form of aidwhich it was possible to render the soldiers. The members decided thatthey must work harder at this occupation and produce more pairs. Some ofthem smuggled their knitting into Preparation, with the result thattheir form work suffered. They bore loss of marks and Miss Duckworth'sreproaches with the heroism of martyrs to a cause. 

"We couldn't tell her we were fulfilling vows, " sighed Marjorie, "thoughI was rather tempted to ask her which was more important--my Euclid orthe feet of some soldier at the front?"

"She wouldn't have understood. "

"Well, no, I suppose not, unless we'd explained. "

"Could we ask Norty to let us save our jam and send it to the soldiers?"

Marjorie shook her head. 

"We couldn't get it out to the front, and they've heaps of it at the RedCross Hospital--at least, Elaine says so, and she helps in the pantry atpresent. "

"We might sell our hair for the benefit of the Belgians, " remarkedBetty, gazing thoughtfully at Marjorie's long plait and Sylvia's silkencurls. 

"Oh, I dare say, when your own's short!" responded Sylvia indignantly. "I might as well suggest selling our ponies, because you've got one andI haven't. "

"If I wrote a patriotic poem, I wonder how much it would cost to get itprinted?" asked Enid. "I'd make all the girls in our form buy copies. "

"We might get up a concert. "

"But wouldn't that give away our secret?"

With the enthusiasm of the newly-formed society still hot upon her, Marjorie started for her fortnightly exeat at her aunt's. She felt thatthe atmosphere of The Tamarisks would be stimulating. Everybodyconnected with that establishment was doing something for the war. UncleAndrew was on a military tribunal, Aunt Ellinor presided over numerouscommittees to send parcels to prisoners, or to aid soldiers' orphans. Elaine's life centred round the Red Cross Hospital, and Norman andWilfred were at the front. She found her aunt, with the table spreadover with papers, busily scribbling letters. 

"I'm on a new committee, " she explained, after greeting her niece. "Ihave to find people who'll undertake to write to lonely soldiers. Someof our poor fellows never have a letter, and the chaplains say it's mostpathetic to see how wistful they look when the mails come in and there'snothing for them. I think it's just too touching for words. SupposeNorman and Wilfred were never remembered. Did you say, Elaine, that Mrs. Wilkins has promised to take Private Dudley? That's right! And Mrs. Hopwood will take Private Roberts? It's very kind of her, when she's sobusy already. We haven't anybody yet for Private Hargreaves. I must findhim a correspondent somehow. What is it, Dona dear? You want me to lookat your photos? Most certainly!"

Aunt Ellinor--kind, busy, and impulsive, and always anxious toentertain the girls when they came for their fortnightly visit--pushedaside her papers and immediately gave her whole attention to thesnapshots which Dona showed her. 

"I took them with the camera you gave me at Christmas, " explained herniece. "Miss Jones says it must be a very good lens, because they'vecome out so well. Isn't this one of Marjorie topping?"

"It's nice, only it makes her look too old, " commented Elaine. "Youcan't see her plait, and she might be quite grown-up. Have you a book topaste your photos in?"

"Not yet. I must put that down in my birthday list. "

"I believe I have one upstairs that I can give you. It's somewhere in mycupboard. I'll go and look for it. "

"Oh, let me come with you!" chirruped Dona, running after her cousin. 

Marjorie stayed in the dining-room, because Aunt Ellinor had just handedher Norman's last letter, and she wanted to read it. She was onlyhalf-way through the first page when a maid announced a visitor, and heraunt rose and went to the drawing-room. Norman's news from the front wasvery interesting. She devoured it eagerly. As a P. S. He added: "Write asoften as you can. You don't know what letters mean to us out here. "

Marjorie folded the thin foreign sheets and put them back in theirenvelope. If Norman, who was kept well supplied with home news, longedfor letters, what must be the case of those lonely soldiers who had nota friend to use pen and paper on their behalf? Surely it would be a kindand patriotic act to write to one of them? Marjorie's impulsivetemperament snatched eagerly at the idea. 

"The very sort of thing I've been yearning to do, " she decided. "Why, that's what our S. S. O. P. Membership is for. Auntie said she hadn't founda correspondent for Private Hargreaves. I'll send him a letter myself. It's dreadful to think of him out in the trenches without a soul to takean interest in him, poor fellow!"

Without waiting to consult anybody, Marjorie borrowed her aunt's pen, took a sheet of foreign paper from the rack that stood on the table, andquite on the spur of the moment scribbled off the following epistle:--

 "BRACKENFIELD COLLEGE, "WHITECLIFFE. 

 "DEAR PRIVATE HARGREAVES, "I am so sorry to think of you being lonely in the trenches and having no letters, and I want to write and say we English girls think of all the brave men who are fighting to defend our country, and we thank them from the bottom of our hearts. I know how terrible it is for you, because I have a brother in France, and one on a battleship, and one in training-camp, and five cousins at the front, and my father at Havre, so I hear all about the hard life you have to lead. I have been to the Red Cross Hospital and seen the wounded soldiers. I knit socks to send to the troops, and we want to get up a concert to raise some money for the Y. M. C. A. Huts. 

 "I hope you will not feel so lonely now you know that somebody is thinking about you. 

 "Believe me, "Your sincere friend, "MARJORIE ANDERSON. "

It exactly filled up a sheet, and Marjorie folded it, put it in anenvelope, and copied the address from the list which her aunt had leftlying on the table. Seeing Dona's photos also spread out, she took thelittle snapshot of herself and enclosed it in the letter. She had astamp of her own in her purse, which she affixed, then slipped theenvelope in her pocket. She did not mention the matter to Aunt Ellinoror Elaine, because to do so would almost seem like betraying theS. S. O. P. , whose patriotic principles were vowed to strictest secrecy. She considered it was a case of "doing good by stealth", and plumedherself on how she would score over the other girls when she reportedsuch a very practical application of the aims of the society. 

Her cousin returned with Dona in the course of a few minutes, andsuggested taking the girls into Whitecliffe, where she wished to do someshopping. They all three started off at once. As they passed thepillar-box in the High Street, Marjorie managed to drop in her letterunobserved. It was an exhilarating feeling to know that it was reallygone. They went to a café for tea, and as they sat looking at theAllies' flags, which draped the walls, and listening to the militarymarches played by a ladies' orchestra in khaki uniforms, patriotismseemed uppermost. 

"It's grand to do anything for one's country!" sighed Marjorie. 

"So it is, " answered Elaine, pulling her knitting from her pocket andrapidly going on with a sock. "Those poor fellows in the trenchesdeserve everything we can send out to them--socks, toffee, cakes, cigarettes, scented soap, and other comforts. "

"And letters, " added Marjorie under her breath, to herself. 

CHAPTER XV

The Empress

The S. S. O. P. Was duly, thrilled when Marjorie reported her act ofpatriotism. Its members, however, reproached her that she had notcopied down the names and addresses of other lonely soldiers on heraunt's list, so that they also might have had an opportunity of"doing their bit". 

"There wasn't time, " Marjorie apologized. "Elaine came back into theroom almost immediately, and I daren't let her and Dona know, because itwould have broken my vow. "

Her friends admitted the excuse, but it was plain that they weredisappointed, and considered that with a little more promptitude shemight have succeeded. 

"Did you tell him about our society?" asked Betty. 

"No, of course not. "

"Well, I didn't mean betraying the secret, exactly, only I think youmight have mentioned that there are several of us who want to do thingsfor the soldiers. And there was a beautiful snapshot that Patricia tookof us all--you might have put that in. "

"But I hadn't got it with me. "

"You needn't have been in such a hurry to send off the letter. You couldhave waited till you'd seen us. "

"How could I post it from school? It was by sheer luck I slipped it intothe pillar-box at Whitecliffe. I got my chance to write that letter, andI had to take it at once or leave it. "

"Perhaps our turns may come another time, " suggested Patriciaconsolingly. 

Though it was Marjorie who had done the actual writing, the whole of theS. S. O. P. Felt responsible for the letter, and considered that they hadadopted the lonely soldier. In imagination they pictured PrivateHargreaves sitting disconsolately in a dug-out, gazing with wistful eyeswhile his comrades read and re-read their home letters, then an orderlyentering and presenting him with Marjorie's document, his incredulity, surprise, and delight at finding it actually addressed to himself, andthe eagerness with which he would tear open the envelope. Opinionsdiffered as to what would happen when he had read it. Sylvia inclined tothink that tears would steal down his rugged cheek. Betty was certainthat, however bad he might have been formerly, he would at once turnover a new leaf and begin to reform. Patricia suggested that he wouldwrite on the envelope that he wished it to be buried with him. Schemesfor sending him pressed violets, poems, and photographs floated on thehorizon of the society. He should not feel lonely any more if theS. S. O. P. Could help it. They decided that each would contributetwopence a week towards buying him cigarettes. They went about theschool quite jauntily in the consciousness of their secret. The rivalsecret society, noticing their elation, openly jeered, but that no doubtwas envy. 

A fortnight passed by, and the girls were beginning to forget about it alittle. The snow had melted, and hockey practice was uppermost in theirminds, for the match between St. Githa's and St. Elgiva's would soon bedue, and they were anxious for the credit of their own hostel. Just atpresent the playing-fields loomed larger than the trenches. St. Elgiva'steam was not yet decided, and each hoped in her innermost heart that shemight be chosen among the favoured eleven. Marjorie had lately improvedvery much at hockey, and had won words of approval from Stella Pearson, the games captain, together with helpful criticism. It was well knownthat Stella did not waste trouble on unpromising subjects, so it washighly encouraging to Marjorie to find her play noticed. Golden visionsof winning goals for her hostel swam before her dazzled eyes. She dreamtone night that she was captain of the team. She almost quarrelled withChrissie because the latter, who was a slack player, did not share herenthusiasm. 

One Monday morning Marjorie woke up with a curious sense of impendingtrouble. She occasionally had a fit of the blues on Mondays. Sunday wasa quiet day at Brackenfield, and in the evening the girls wrote theirhome letters. The effect was often an intense longing for the holidays. On this particular Monday she tried to shake off the wretched dismalfeeling, but did not succeed. It lasted throughout breakfast in spite ofChrissie's humorous rallyings. 

"You're as glum as an owl!" remarked her chum at last. 

"I can't help it. I feel as if something horrible is going to happen. "

Marjorie's premonition turned out to be justified, for, as she wasleaving the dining-hall after breakfast, Miss Norton tapped her on theshoulder, and told her to report herself at once to Mrs. Morrison. 

Wondering for what particular transgression she was to be called toaccount, Marjorie obeyed, and presented herself at the study. ThePrincipal was seated at her desk writing. She allowed her pupil to standand wait while she finished making her list for the housekeeper andblotted it. Then, taking an envelope from one of her pigeonholes, sheturned to the expectant girl. 

"Marjorie Anderson, " she began sternly, "this letter, addressed to you, arrived this morning. Miss Norton very properly brought it to me, and Ihave opened and read it. Will you kindly explain its contents?"

The rule at Brackenfield, as at most schools, was that pupils might onlyreceive letters addressed by their parents or guardians, and that anyother correspondence directed to them was opened and perused by the headmistress. Letters from brothers, sisters, cousins, or friends were ofcourse allowed if forwarded under cover by a parent, but must not besent separately to the school by the writer. 

Marjorie, in some amazement, opened the letter which Mrs. Morrison gaveher. It was written on Y. M. C. A. Paper in an ill-educated hand, and ranthus:--

 "DEAR MISS, "This comes hoping you are as well as it leaves me at present. I was very glad to get your letter, and hear you are thinking about me. I like your photo, and when I get back to blighty should like to keep company with you if you are agreeable to same. Before I joined up I was in the engine-room at my works, and getting my £2 a week. I am very glad to have some one to write to me. Well, no more at present from

 "Yours truly "JIM HARGREAVES. "

Marjorie flushed scarlet. Without doubt the letter was a reply from thelonely soldier. It came as a tremendous shock. Somehow it had neveroccurred to her that he would write back. To herself and the othermembers of the S. S. O. P. He had been a mere picturesque abstraction, aromantic figure, as remote as fiction, whose loneliness had appealed totheir sentimental instincts. They had judged all soldiers by theexperience of their own brothers and cousins, and had a vague idea thatthe army consisted mostly of public-school boys. To find that herprotégé was an uneducated working man, who had entirely misconstrued thenature of her interest in him, and evidently imagined that she hadwritten him a love-letter, made poor Marjorie turn hot and cold. She wasessentially a thorough little lady, and was horror-stricken at the falseposition in which her impulsive act had placed her. 

Mrs. Morrison watched her face narrowly, and drew her own conclusionfrom the tell-tale blushes. 

"Do I understand that this letter is in reply to one written by you?"she asked. 

"Yes, Mrs. Morrison, " gasped Marjorie, turning suddenly white. 

The Principal drew a long breath, as if trying to retain herself-command. Her grey eyes flashed ominously, and her hands trembled. 

"Do you understand that you have not only broken one of our principalrules, but have transgressed against the spirit of the school? Everypupil here is at least supposed to be a gentlewoman, and that aBrackenfielder could so demean herself as to enter into a vulgarcorrespondence with an unknown soldier fills me with disgust andcontempt. I cannot keep such a girl in the school. You will go for thepresent to the isolation room, and remain there until I can makearrangements to send you home. "

[Illustration: THEN SOMEHOW MARJORIE FOUND HERSELF BLURTING OUT THEENTIRE STORY _page 172_]

Mrs. Morrison spoke quietly, but very firmly. She pointed to the door, and Marjorie, without a word, withdrew. She had been given no chanceto explain matters or defend herself. By acknowledging that she hadwritten to Private Hargreaves Mrs. Morrison considered that she hadpleaded guilty, and had condemned her without further hearing. As ifwalking in a bad dream, Marjorie crossed the quadrangle, and went downthe path to the Isolation Hospital. This was a small bungalow in aremote part of the grounds. It was kept always in readiness in case anygirl should develop an infectious complaint. Marjorie had been there fora few days last term with a cold which Miss Norton suspected might beinfluenza. She had enjoyed herself then. How different it was now to gothere in utter disgrace and under threat of expulsion! She sat down inone of the cosy wicker chairs and buried her face in her hands. To beexpelled, to leave Brackenfield and all its interests, and to go homewith a stigma attached to her name! Her imagination painted all it wouldmean--her father's displeasure, her mother's annoyance, the surprise offriends at home to see her back before mid-term, the entire humiliationof everybody knowing that she had been sent away from school. 

"I shall never be able to hold up my head again, " she thought. "And itwill spoil Dona's career here too. They won't be able to send Joan toBrackenfield either; she'll have to go to some other school. Oh, why wasI such an absolute lunatic? I might have known the Empress would take itthis way!"

Sister Johnstone, one of the school nurses, now came bustling in. Sheglanced at Marjorie, but made no remark, and set to work to light thefire and dust the room. Presently, however, she came and laid her handon the girl's shoulder. 

"I don't quite understand yet what it's all about, Marjorie, " she saidkindly; "but my advice is, if you've done anything wrong, make a cleanbreast of it and perhaps Mrs. Morrison may forgive you. "

"She's expelled me!" groaned Marjorie. 

"That's bad. Aren't there any extenuating circumstances?"

But Marjorie, utterly crushed and miserable, only shook her head. 

The Principal was sincerely concerned and grieved by the occurrence. Itis always a blot on a school to be obliged to expel a pupil. She talkedthe matter over carefully with some of the teachers. Marjorie's recordat Brackenfield had unfortunately been already marred by severalincidents which prejudiced her in the eyes of the mistresses. They hadbeen done innocently and in sheer thoughtlessness, but they gave a wrongimpression of her character. Miss Norton related that when she first metMarjorie at Euston station she had found her speaking to a soldier, withwhom she had acknowledged that she had no acquaintance, and that she hadbrought a novel to her dormitory in defiance of rules. Mrs. Morrisonremembered only too plainly that it was Marjorie who had asked theaviator for his autograph on the beach at Whitecliffe, and had startedthe ill-timed episode of snowballing the soldiers. Judging by thesesignposts she considered her tendencies to be "fast". 

"I can't have the atmosphere of the school spoilt, " said Mrs. Morrison. "Such an attitude is only too catching. Best to check it before itspreads further. "

"But I have always found Marjorie such a nice girl, " urged MissDuckworth. "From my personal experience of her I could not have believedher capable of unladylike conduct. She has always seemed to me veryunsophisticated and childish--certainly not 'fast'. Can there possiblybe any explanation of the matter?"

"I fear not--the case seems only too plain, " sighed Mrs. Morrison. "I amvery loath to expel any girl, but----"

"May I speak to her before you take any active steps?" begged MissDuckworth. "I have a feeling that the matter may possibly admit of beingcleared up. It's worth trying. "

No principal is ever anxious for the unpleasant task of writing to aparent to request her to remove her daughter. Mrs. Morrison had nervedherself to the unwelcome duty, but she was quite willing to defer ituntil Miss Duckworth had instituted enquiries. She had an excellentopinion of her mistress's sound common sense. 

Marjorie spent a wretched day in the isolation ward. Sister Johnstoneplied her with magazines, but she had not the heart to read them, andsat looking listlessly out of the window at the belt of laurels thatseparated the field from the kitchen garden. She wondered when she wasto leave Brackenfield, if her mother would come to fetch her, or if shewould have to travel home by herself. It was after tea-time that MissDuckworth entered. 

"I've come to relieve Sister for a little while, " she announced, seatingherself by the fire. 

Sister Johnstone took the hint, and, saying she would be very glad to goout for half an hour, went away, leaving Miss Duckworth and Marjoriealone in the bungalow. 

"Come to the fire, Marjorie, " said the mistress. "It's damp and chillythis afternoon, and you look cold sitting by the window. "

Marjorie obeyed almost mechanically. She knelt on the rug and spread outher hands to the blaze. She had reached a point of misery when shehardly cared what happened next to her. Two big tears splashed into thefender. Miss Duckworth suddenly put an arm round her. 

"I'm sorry you're in trouble, Marjorie. Can't you tell me why you didsuch a thing? It's so unlike you that I don't understand. "

Then somehow Marjorie found herself blurting out the entire story to herform mistress. How she had found the soldier's address at her aunt's, and had written to him in a spirit of sheer patriotism. 

Incidentally, and in reply to questioning, the aims and objects of theS. S. O. P. Were divulged. 

Miss Duckworth could hardly forbear a smile; the real circumstances wereso utterly different from what they appeared in the Principal's eyes. 

"You've been a very silly child, " she said; "so silly that I think yourichly deserved to get yourself into a scrape. I'll explain the matterto Mrs. Morrison. "

"I'd like her to know, even though I'm to be expelled, " groanedMarjorie. 

On hearing Miss Duckworth's version of the story, however, Mrs. Morrisonreconsidered her decision, sent for the culprit, lectured her, andsolemnly forgave her. She further summoned all the members of theS. S. O. P. To present themselves in her study. In view of the recentoccurrence they came trembling, and stood in a downcast line while sheaddressed them. 

"I hear from Miss Duckworth, " she said, "that you have founded a secretsociety among yourselves for the purpose of encouraging patriotism. I donot in general approve of secret societies, but I sympathize with yourobject. It is the duty of every citizen of our Empire to be patriotic. There are various ways, however, in which we can show our love for ourcountry. Let us be sure that they are wise and discreet ways before weadopt them. Some forms of kindness may be excellent when administered bygrown-up and experienced women, but are not suitable for schoolgirls. Ifyou want to help the soldiers you may sew bed-jackets. I have justreceived a new consignment of flannel, and will ask Sister Johnstone tocut some out for you to-morrow. "

The S. S. O. P. Retired somewhat crestfallen. 

"I hate sewing!" mourned Betty. 

"So do I, " confessed Sylvia. "But we'll all just have to slave away atthose bed-jackets if we want to square the Empress. It must come out ofour spare time, too, worse luck!"

Marjorie entered St. Elgiva's in a half-dazed condition. A hurricaneseemed to have descended that morning, whirled her almost todestruction, then blown itself away, and left her decidedly battered bythe storm. Up in her own cubicle she indulged in the luxury of athorough good cry. The S. S. O. P. In a body rose up to comfort her, but, like Jacob of old, she refused comfort. 

"I'm not to be t-t-trusted to have my own postage stamps, " she sobbed. "I've to take even my home letters to the Empress to be looked at, andshe'll stamp them. I'm to miss my next exeat, and Aunt Ellinor's to betold the reason, and I'm not to play hockey for a month. "

"Oh, Marjorie! Then there isn't the remotest chance of your getting intothe Eleven for St. Elgiva's. What a shame!"

"I know. It's spoilt everything. "

"And the whole school knows now about the S. S. O. P. It's leaked outsomehow, and the secret's gone. It'll be no more fun. "

"I wish to goodness I'd never thought of it, " choked Marjorie. "I've gotto sit and copy out beastly poetry while somebody else gets into theEleven. "

CHAPTER XVI

The Observatory Window

Though Mrs. Morrison might be satisfied that Marjorie's letter toPrivate Hargreaves had been written in an excess of patriotism, she madeher feel the ban of her displeasure. She received her coldly when shebrought her home letters to be stamped, stopped her exeat, and did notremit a fraction of her imposition. She considered she had gaugedMarjorie's character--that thoughtless impulsiveness was one of hergravest faults, and that it would be well to teach her a lesson whichshe would remember for some time. Marjorie's hot spirits chafed againsther punishment. It was terribly hard to be kept from hockey practice. She missed the physical exercise as well as the excitement of the game. On three golden afternoons she had watched the others run across theshrubbery towards the playing-fields, and, taking her dejected way toher classroom, had spent the time writing at her desk. The fourth hockeyafternoon was one of those lovely spring days when nature seems tobeckon one out of doors into the sunshine. Sparrows were tweeting in theivy, and a thrush on the top branch of the almond tree trilled inrivalry with the blackbird that was building in the holly bush. Forhalf an hour Marjorie toiled away. Copying poetry is monotonous, thoughperhaps not very exacting work; she hated writing, and her head ached. After a morning spent at Latin, algebra, and chemistry, it seemedintolerable to be obliged to remain in the schoolroom. She threw downher pen and stretched her arms wearily, then strolled to the open windowand looked out. 

A belt of trees hid the playing-fields, so it was impossible to catcheven a glimpse of the hockey. There was nothing to be seen but grass andbushes and a few clumps of daffodils, which stood out like golden starsagainst a background of green. Stop! what was that? Marjorie looked moreintently, and could distinguish a figure in hockey jersey andtam-o'-shanter coming along behind the bushes. As it crossed a spacebetween two rhododendrons she recognized it in a moment. 

"Why, that's Chrissie!" she said to herself. "What in the name ofthunder is she doing slinking behind the shrubs? Oh, I know! Good oldgirl! She's coming to cheer me up, and, of course, doesn't want Norty oranyone to catch her. What a sport she is!"

Chrissie had disappeared, probably into the vestibule door, but Marjoriejudged that she would be coming upstairs directly, and in a spirit offun crouched down in a corner and hid behind the desks. As she hadexpected, the door opened a moment later, and her chum peeped inside, took a hasty glance round the room, and went away. That she should gowithout searching for and finding her friend was not at all whatMarjorie had calculated upon. She sprang up hastily and followed, but bythe time she had reached the door Chrissie had disappeared. Marjoriewalked a little way along the corridor. She was disappointed, and feltdecidedly bored with life. She longed for something--anything--to breakthe monotony of copying out poetry. Her eyes fell upon a staircase ather left. 

Now on the school plan these stairs were marked "out of bounds", and tomount them was a breach of rules. They led to a glass observatory, whichformed a kind of tower over the main building of the College. A numberof theatrical properties were stored here--screens, and drop scenes, andboxes full of costumes. By special leave the prefects came up to fetchanything that was needed for acting, but to the ordinary school it wasforbidden ground. Marjorie stopped and thought. She had always longed toexplore the theatrical boxes. Everybody was out at hockey, and there wasnot a soul to see her and report her. The temptation was too great; shesuccumbed, and next moment was running up the stairs, all agog with thespirit of adventure. The door of the Observatory was open. It was not aremarkably large room, and was fairly well filled with the various stageproperties. Large windows occupied the four sides, and the roof was aglass dome. Marjorie peeped about, opened some of the boxes and examinedthe dresses, and inspected a variety of odd objects, such as pasteboardcrowns, fairies' wings, sceptres, wands, and swords. She was just aboutto try on a green-velvet Rumanian bodice when she turned in alarm. Stepswere heard coming up the staircase towards the Observatory. In aninstant Marjorie shut the box and slipped behind one of the screens. Shewas only just in time, for the next moment Miss Norton entered the room. Through a small rent in the oilcloth which covered the screen Marjoriecould see her plainly. She went to the window which faced the sea andgazed out long and earnestly. Then she opened one of the theatricalboxes, put something inside, and shut it again. One more look throughthe window and she left the room. The sound of her retreating footstepsdied down the stairs. 

Marjorie had remained still, and scarcely daring to breathe. She waiteda moment or two, lest the teacher should return, then descended withextreme caution, scuttled back into the schoolroom, and started oncemore to copy poetry. 

"It was a near squeak!" she thought. "The Acid Drop would have made afearful row if she'd caught me. It makes one feel rocky even to think ofit. Oh dear! I must brace up if I'm to get all the rest of this donebefore tea. "

She wrote away wearily until the dressing-bell rang, then washed herhands and went into the hall. The one topic of conversation at thetables was hockey. The points of the various members of the teams werecriticized freely. It appeared to have been an exciting afternoon. Asense of ill usage filled Marjorie that she had not been present. 

"I think the Empress was awfully hard on me, " she groused. "I believeshe'd have let me off more lightly if Norty hadn't given her such a listof my crimes. I wish I could catch Norty tripping! But teachers never dotrip. "

"Why, no, of course not. They wouldn't be teachers if they did, " laughedBetty. "The Empress would soon pack them off. "

"I wonder if they ever get into trouble and the Empress reprimands themin private, " surmised Chrissie. 

"Oh, that's likely enough, but of course we don't hear about it. "

"Miss Gordon and Miss Hulton had a quarrel last year, " said Sylvia. 

"Yes, and Miss Hulton left. Everybody said she was obliged to go becauseMrs. Morrison took Miss Gordon's part. "

That evening an unprecedented and extraordinary thing happened. Brackenfield College stood in a dip of the hills not very far away fromthe sea. As at most coast places, the rules in the neighbourhood ofWhitecliffe were exceedingly strict. Not the least little chink of alight must be visible after dusk, and blinds and curtains were drawnmost carefully over the windows. Being on the west coast, they had sofar been immune from air raids, but in war-time nobody knew from whatquarter danger might come, or whether a stray Zeppelin might some nightfloat overhead, or a cruiser begin shelling the town. On the whole, theCollege was considered as safe a place as any in England, and parentshad not scrupled to send their daughters back to school there. On thisparticular evening one of the housemaids had been into Whitecliffe, and, instead of returning by the high road and up the drive, took a short cutby the side lane and the kitchen garden. To her amazement, she noticedthat in one of the windows of the Observatory a bright light wasshining. It was on the side away from the high road, but facing the sea, and could probably be discerned at a great distance. She hurried indoorsand informed Mrs. Morrison, who at once visited the Observatory, andfound there a lighted bicycle lamp, which had been placed on the windowsill. 

So sinister an incident was a matter for immediate enquiry. ThePrincipal was horror-stricken. Girls, teachers, and servants werequestioned, but nobody admitted anything. The lamp, indeed, proved to beone which Miss Duckworth had missed from her bicycle several daysbefore. It was known that she had been lamenting its loss. Whether thelight had been put as a signal or as a practical joke it was impossibleto say, but if it had been noticed by a special constable it would haveplaced Brackenfield in danger of an exceedingly heavy fine. 

Everybody was extremely indignant. It was felt that such an unpleasantepisode cast a reflection upon the school. It was naturally the onesubject of conversation. 

"Have we a spy in our midst?" asked Winifrede Mason darkly. "If itreally was a practical joke, then whoever did it needs hounding out ofthe place. "

"She'll meet with scant mercy when she's found!" agreed Meg Hutchinson. 

Marjorie said nothing at all. Her brain was in a whirl. The events ofthe afternoon rose up like a spectre and haunted her. She felt sheneeded a confidante. At the earliest possible moment she sought Chrissiealone, and told her how she had run up into the Observatory and seenMiss Norton there. 

"Do you think it's possible Norty could have lighted that lamp?" sheasked. 

Chrissie whistled. 

"It looks rather black against her certainly. What was she doing up inthe Observatory?"

"She put something inside a box. "

"Did you see what it was?"

"No. "

"It might have been a bicycle lamp?"

"It might have been anything as far as I can tell. "

"Did she strike a match as if lighting a lamp?"

"No, but of course she might have put the lamp inside the box and thencome up at dusk to light it. "

Chrissie shook her head and whistled again softly. She appeared to bethinking. 

"Ought I to tell the Empress?" ventured Marjorie. 

"Not unless you want to get yourself into the very biggest row you'veever had in your life!"

"Why?"

"Why? Don't you see, you silly child, that Norty would deny everythingand throw all the blame upon you? Naturally the Empress would ask: 'Whatwere you doing in the Observatory?' Even if she didn't suspect you ofputting the light there yourself--which it is quite possible shemight--she'd punish you for breaking bounds; and when you've only justbeen in trouble already----"

"It's not to be thought of, " interrupted Marjorie quickly. "You're quiteright, Chrissie. The Empress would be sure to side with Norty and blameme. I'd thought of going and telling her, and I even walked as far asthe study door, but I was too frightened to knock. I'm glad I asked youabout it first. "

"Of course the whole business may be a rag. It's the kind of wild thingsome of those silly Juniors would do. "

"It may; but, on the other hand, the light may have been a signal. Itseems very mysterious. "

"Don't tell anybody else what you've told me. "

"Rather not. It's a secret to be kept even from the S. S. O. P. I shan'tbreathe a word to a single soul. "

CHAPTER XVII

The Dance of the Nations

Though Mrs. Morrison made the most rigid enquiries she could get noinformation as to who had placed the lamp in the window. She locked thedoor of the Observatory, and caused the old gardener to patrol thegrounds at intervals after dark to watch for further signals, butnothing more occurred. After weeks of vigilance and suspicion she cameto the conclusion that it must have been a practical joke on the part ofone of the girls. Chrissie in her private talks with her chum upheldthat view of the matter, but Marjorie had her own opinions. She oftenlooked at Miss Norton and wondered what secrets were hidden under thatcalm exterior. To all outward appearance the house mistress wasscholastic, cold, and entirely occupied with her duties. She wasessentially a disciplinarian, and kept St. Elgiva's under a strictrégime. Her girls often wished she were less conscientious in hersuperintendence of their doings. 

The possession of a mutual secret shared by themselves alone seemed todraw Chrissie and Marjorie closer together than ever. Not that Chrissiegave her chum any more of her real confidence, for she was the kind ofgirl who never reveals her heart, but she seemed to become more andmore interested in Marjorie's affairs. She enjoyed the latter's homenews, and especially letters from the front. 

"I envy you, with three brothers in the army!" she admitted one day witha wistful sigh. 

"Yes, it's something to know our family is doing its bit, " returnedMarjorie proudly. "Haven't you any relations at the front?" she added. 

Chrissie shook her head. 

"My father is dead, and my only brother is delicate. "

Marjorie forbore to press the question further. She could see it was atender subject. 

"Probably the brother is a shirker or a conscientious objector, " shethought, "and to such a patriotic girl as Chrissie it must be a dreadfultrial. If Bevis or Leonard or Larry seemed to hang back I'd die ofshame. "

Judging from the photo of Chrissie's brother which stood on herdressing-table, he did not look an engaging or interesting youth. Thedormitory, keenly critical of each other's relatives, had privatelydecided in his disfavour. That Chrissie was fond of him Marjorie wassure, though she never talked about him and his doings, as other girlsdid of their brothers. The suspicion that her chum was hiding a secrethumiliation on this score made warm-hearted Marjorie doubly kind, andChrissie, though no more expansive than formerly, seemed to understand. She was evidently intensely grateful for Marjorie's friendship, and asentirely devoted to her as her reserved disposition allowed. She wouldsend to Whitecliffe for violets, and place the little bunch on herchum's dressing-table, flushing hotly when she was thanked. Shepresented innumerable small gifts which she managed to make in her sparetime. She was a quick and exquisite needlewoman, and dainty collars inbroderie anglaise, embroidered pocket-handkerchiefs, pin-cushions, dressing-table mats, and other pretty trifles seemed to grow like magicunder her nimble fingers. Any return present from Marjorie she seemed tovalue exceedingly. She put the latter's photo inside a locket, and woreit constantly. She was clever at her lessons, and would help her chumwith her work out of school hours. St. Elgiva's smiled tolerantly, andnamed the pair "the Turtle Doves". Though the atmosphere of the hostelwas not sentimental, violent friendships were not unknown there. Sometimes they were of enduring quality, and sometimes they ended in aquarrel. Miss Norton did not encourage demonstrative affection among herflock, but it was known that Mrs. Morrison considered schoolgirlfriendships highly important and likely to last for life. She beamedrather than frowned on those who walked arm in arm. 

Marjorie's second term at Brackenfield was fast wearing itself away. Inspite of many disagreeable happenings she felt that she had taken herplace in the life of the school, and that she was a definite figure atSt. Elgiva's. There was a little rivalry between the hostels, and eachwould try to outdo the other in such matters as collecting forcharities, knitting for the soldiers, or providing items for concerts. At the end of term each hostel put up in the hall a list of its variousachievements, and great was the triumph of that house which could recordthe largest number of socks or shillings. There was an old andwell-established custom that on the last three evenings of term thethree hostels in turn might take possession of the assembly hall, andgive some form of entertainment to which they could invite the rest ofthe school. St. Elgiva's held a committee meeting to discuss possibleprojects. 

"There doesn't seem anything new, " mourned Mollie. "Of course concertsand plays and charades are very well in their way, but they're doneevery time. "

"We all like them, " admitted Phyllis. 

"Oh yes, we like them; but it would be so nice to have a change. "

"Can't anybody make a suggestion?" urged Francie. 

"The things we really want to do are just the things we can't, " sighedBetty. "If I could choose, I'd vote for a bonfire and fireworks. "

"Or a torchlight picnic, " prompted Sylvia. "It would make a niceexcitement for the special constables to come and arrest us, as theymost certainly would. What a heading it would make for the newspaper--'ALadies' School in Prison. No Bail Allowed'! Would they set us to pickoakum?"

"But seriously, do think of something practical. Have your brains allgone rusty?"

"There are progressive games, " ventured Patricia. 

"St. Githa's are giving them. I know it for a fact. They sent toWhitecliffe for marbles and boxes of pins and shoe-buttons to make'fish-ponds'. They get first innings, so it would be too stale if ourevening were to be just a repetition of theirs. "

It was Chrissie who at last made the original suggestion. 

"Couldn't we have a dance? I don't mean an ordinary dance, but somethingspecial. Suppose we were all to dress up to represent different nations. We could have all the Allies. "

"Ripping! But how could we manage enough costumes?"

"We'd make them up with coloured paper and ribbons. It shouldn't be verydifficult. "

"It's a jolly good idea, " said Mollie reflectively. 

The more the committee considered the matter the more they felt disposedto decide in favour of the dance. They consulted Miss Norton on thesubject, and she proved unusually genial and encouraging, and offered totake two delegates with her to Whitecliffe to buy requisites. The girlsdrew lots for the honour, and the luck fell to Mollie and Phyllis. Theyhad an exciting afternoon at the Stores, and came back laden withbrown-paper parcels. 

"Miss Norton says the fairest plan will be to have the things on sale, "they announced. "We're going to turn the sitting-room into a shop, andyou may each come in one by one and spend a shilling, but no more. "

"All serene! When will you be at the receipt of custom?"

"This evening after supper. "

That day there had been in the library a tremendous run upon any bookswhich gave illustrations of European costumes. The girls considered thateither allegorical or native peasant dresses would be suitable. Theytook drawings and wrote down details. 

"What I'd like would be to write to London to a firm of theatricalproviders, and tell them to send us down a consignment of costumes, "announced Patricia. 

"Oh, I dare say! A nice little bill we should have! I've hired costumesbefore, and they charge a terrific amount for them, " commented Francie. 

"It's rather fun to make our own, especially when we're all limited thesame as to material, " maintained Nora. 

The girls usually did needlework after supper, but this evening thesitting-room was to be devoted to the sale. Mollie and Phyllis were wisein their generation, and, anticipating a stampede, they picked outGertrude Holmes and Laura Norris as being the most stalwart andbrawny-armed among the damsels of St. Elgiva's, and set them to keep thedoor, admitting only two at a time. Even with this precaution a ratherwild scene ensued. Instead of keeping in an orderly queue, the girlspushed for places, and there were several excited struggles in thevicinity of the stairs. As each girl came out, proudly exhibiting whatshe had purchased, the anxiety of those who had not yet entered thesitting-room increased. They were afraid everything might be sold beforeit came to their turns, and had it not been for the well-developedmuscles of Gertrude and Laura, the fort might have been stormed and thestores raided. 

Mollie and Phyllis had invested their capital with skill, and showed anassortment of white and coloured crinkled papers, cheap remnants ofsateen, lengths of gay butter muslin, and yards of ribbon. For theoccasion they assumed the manners of shop assistants, and greeted theirvisitors with the orthodox: "What can I show you, madam?" But theirelaborate politeness soon melted away when the customer showed signs ofdemanding more than her portion, and the "Oh, certainly!" or "Here's asweet thing, madam!" uttered in honeyed tones, turned to a blunt "Don'tbe greedy!" "Can't give you more than your shilling's worth, not if youask ever so. " "There won't be enough to go round, so you must just makewhat you've got do. Not a single inch more! If you don't go this minutewe'll take your parcels back. We're in a hurry. "

By using the greatest dispatch Mollie and Phyllis just managed todistribute their goods before the bell rang for prayers. The ribbon andsateen were all bought up, and the crinkled paper which was left overthey put aside to make decorations for the hall. 

Next day St. Elgiva's was given up to the fabrication of costumes. Thegirls retired to their dormitories, strewed their beds with materials, and worked feverishly. In No. 9 the excitement was intense. Sylvia, whointended to represent the United States, was seccotining stars andstripes, cut out of coloured paper, on to her best white petticoat. Betty was stitching red stripes down the sides of her gymnasiumknickers, being determined to appear in the nearest approach to a Zouaveuniform that she could muster, though a little doubtful of Miss Norton'sapproval of male attire. Chrissie, with a brown-paper hat, a red tie, and belt strapped over her shoulder, meant to figure as Young Australia. Marjorie alone, the most enthusiastic of all for the scheme, sat limplyon her bed with idle scissors. 

"I'd meant to be Rumania, " she confessed, "and I find Patricia's baggedthe exact thing I sketched. "

"Can't there be several Rumanias?"

"Yes, there will be, because Rose and Enid have set their hearts on thesame. I'd rather have something original, though. "

"I don't think Rumania would suit you; you're too tall and fair, " saidSylvia. "It's better for dark girls, with curly hair if possible. "

"Couldn't you have a Breton peasant costume?" suggested Chrissie. "I'vea picture post card here in my album that we could copy. Look, it's justthe thing! The big cap and the white sleeves would do beautifully incrinkled paper, and I'll lend you that velvet bodice I wore when I was'Fadette'. "

"How about the apron?"

"Stitch two handkerchiefs together, pick the lace off your bestpetticoat and sew it round, and you'll have the jinkiest little Bretonapron you ever saw. "

"Christina Lang, you're a genius!" exclaimed Marjorie, pulling out thebest petticoat from under a pile of blouses in her drawer, and settingto work with Sylvia's embroidery scissors to detach the trimming. 

"You'll want a necklace and some earrings, " decided Chrissie. "Oh, we'lleasily make you ear-rings--break up a string of beads, thread a few ofthem, and tie them on to your ears. I'll guarantee to turn you out afirst-class peasant if you'll put yourself in my hands. "

"I suppose I'll be expected to talk Breton, " chuckled Marjorie. 

The Seniors' entertainment came first, and on the following eveningIntermediates and Juniors assembled in the big hall as the guests of St. Githa's. Progressive games had been provided, and the company spent ahilarious hour fishing up boot-buttons with bent pins, picking upmarbles with two pencils, or securing potatoes with egg-spoons. A numberof pretty prizes were given, and the hostesses had the satisfaction offeeling perfectly sure that their visitors, to judge by their behaviour, had absolutely and thoroughly enjoyed themselves. St. Githa's hadundoubtedly covered itself with glory, and St. Elgiva's must not beoutdone. The Intermediates worked feverishly to finish their costumes. Such an amount of borrowing and lending went on that it would be quite aproblem to sort out possessions afterwards. It was a point of etiquettethat anyone who had anything that would be useful to a neighbour'sget-up was bound in honour to offer the loan of it. Only the hostesseswere to be in costume; the guests were to appear in ordinary eveningdresses. 

Marjorie, before the mirror in her bedroom, gazed critically at her ownreflection. Chrissie's clever fingers had pulled and twisted thecrinkled paper into the most becoming of peasant caps, the large beadear-rings, tied on with silk, jangled on to her neck, her paper sleevesstood out like lawn, the lace-edged apron was a triumph of daintiness, she wore Patricia's scarlet-kid dancing-slippers with Betty's black silkstockings. 

"Do you think I'll do?" she queried. 

The Zouave officer threw herself on one knee in an attitude of ecstaticadmiration, and laid a hand upon her heart. 

"Do? You're ravishing! I'm going to make love to you all the evening, just for the sport of seeing the Acid Drop's face. Play up and flirt, won't you?"

"You look a regular Don Juan!" chuckled Marjorie. 

"That's my rôle this evening. I'm going to break hearts by the dozen. Idon't mind telling you that I mean to dance with Norty herself. "

St. Elgiva's might certainly congratulate itself upon the success of itsefforts. The fancy costumes produced a sensation. All the Allies wererepresented, as well as allegorical figures, such as Britannia, Justice, Peace, and Plenty. It was marvellous how much had been accomplished withthe very scanty materials that the girls had had to work upon. The ballwas soon in full swing; mistresses and prefects joined in the fun, andfound themselves being whirled round by Neapolitan contadini orpicturesque Japs. The room, decorated with flags and big rosettes ofcoloured paper, looked delightfully festive. Even Miss Norton, usuallythe climax of dignity, thawed for the occasion, and accepted Betty'sinvitation to a fox-trot without expressing any disapproval of theZouave uniform. Marjorie, after a vigorous half-hour of exercise, pausedpanting near the platform, and refused further partners. 

"I want a rest, " she proclaimed. "You wouldn't believe it, but thiscostume's very hot, and my ear-rings keep smacking me in the face. "

"If you not want to dance, Marjorie, you shall play, and I take a turn, "suggested the French mistress, vacating the piano stool. 

"By all means, mademoiselle. Do go and dance. There's Elsie wanting apartner. I'll enjoy playing for a while. What pieces have you got here?Oh, I know most of them. "

Marjorie good-naturedly settled herself to the piano. She was anexcellent reader, so could manage even the pieces with which she was notalready acquainted. She was playing a two-step, and turning her head towatch the dancers as they whirled by, when suddenly she heard a shout, and Chrissie, who was passing, scrambled on to the platform, dragged herfrom the piano, threw her on the floor, and sat upon her head. Dazed bythe suddenness of her chum's extraordinary conduct, Marjorie was toomuch amazed even to scream. When Chrissie released her she realized whathad happened. She had put the corner of her large Breton cap into theflame of the candle, and it had flared up. Only her friend's promptaction could have saved her from being horribly burnt. As it was, herhair was slightly singed, but her face was unscathed. The girls, thoroughly alarmed, came crowding on to the platform, and Miss Norton, after blowing out the piano candles, examined her carefully to see theextent of the damage. 

"More frightened than hurt!" was her verdict. "But another second mighthave been too late. I must congratulate you, Chrissie, on your presenceof mind. "

Chrissie flushed crimson. It was not often that Miss Nortoncongratulated anybody. Praise from her was praise indeed. 

"Please go on dancing, " begged Marjorie. "I'm all right, only I thinkI'll sit still and watch. It's made my legs feel shaky. I never thoughtof the candle and the size of my cap. "

"It's spoilt your costume, " said Sylvia commiseratingly. "And yours wasthe best in all the room--everybody's been saying so. I wanted to get asnapshot of you in it to-morrow. "

"Take Betty instead. She's the limit in that Zouave get-up. And if youwouldn't mind using an extra film, I'd like one of Chrissie. Chrissie"--Marjorie caught her breath in a little gasp--"has saved mylife to-night!"

CHAPTER XVIII

Enchanted Ground

Marjorie and Dona spent the larger part of the Easter holidays with anaunt in the north. They had a few days at home, mostly devoted to visitsto the dentist and the dressmaker, and then boxes were once more packed, and they started off on the now familiar journey back to Brackenfield. Joan watched the preparations wistfully. 

"Do you think the Empress would take a girl of eight?" she enquired inall seriousness. 

"Not unless you could be used as a mascot or a school monkey, " returnedMarjorie. "You might come in handy at the nursing lectures, when we getto the chapter on 'How to Wash and Dress a Baby', or you'd do topractise bandaging on. Otherwise you'd be considerably in the way. "

"Don't be horrid!" pouted Joan. "I'm to go to Brackenfield some time. Mother said so. "

"You'll have to wait five years yet, my hearty. Why, do you know, evenDona is called a kiddie at Brackenfield?"

"Dona!" Joan's eyes were big. 

"Yes, some of the girls look almost as old as Nora, and they've turnedup their hair. It's a fact. You needn't stare. "

"You'll go all in good time, poor old Baba, " said Dona. "You wouldn'tlike to be in a form all by yourself, without any other little girls, and there's no room for a preparatory unless they build, and that's notpossible in war-time. You must peg on for a while with Miss Hazelwood, and then perhaps Mother'll send you to a day school. After all, youknow, it's something to be the youngest in the family. You score overthat. "

Both Marjorie and Dona were looking forward to the summer term. Those oftheir chums who were old Brackenfielders had dwelt strongly on itsadvantages compared with the autumn or spring terms. It was the seasonfor cricket and tennis, for country walks, picnics, and natural historyexcursions. Most of the activities were arranged for out of doors, and alarger amount of liberty was allowed the girls than had been possibleduring the period of short days. 

Armed each with a cricket bat and a tennis racket, not to mentioncameras, butterfly nets, collecting-boxes, and botanical cases, theyarrived at their respective hostels and unpacked their possessions. Marjorie was the last comer in No. 9, and found Chrissie with hercubicle already neatly arranged, Sylvia with her head buried in herbottom drawer, and Betty struggling with straps. The two latter werepouring out details of their holiday adventures. 

"I rode in to town every day, and did Mother's shopping for her; and wewent to a sale and bought the jolliest little governess car andharness. "

"We were going to Brighton, only Mother was so afraid of bombs on thesouth coast, so Daddy said it was safer to stop at home; and I was glad, because we'd spent last Christmas at Grannie's, so I really hadn't seenvery much of home. "

"Dick got a week's leave, and we'd an absolutely gorgeous time!"

"James and Vincent brought two school friends home with them--suchripping boys!"

"We went out boating on the lake. "

"And we went to the cinema nearly every day. "

"What have you been doing, Marjorie?" asked Chrissie. 

"Heaps of things. We were staying at Redferne, and Uncle showed us allover the munition works. They're so strict they won't let anybody gothrough now; but Uncle's the head, so of course he could take Dona andme. And we saw a Belgian town for the Belgian workers there. It's builtquite separately, and has barbed-wire entanglements round. There are athousand houses, and six hundred hostels, and ever so many huts as well, and shops, and a post office, and a hall of justice. You can't go inthrough the gate without a pass, but Uncle knew the manager, so it wasall right. "

"I don't call that as much fun as boating, " said Betty. 

"Or the cinema, " added Sylvia. 

"It was nicer, because it was patriotic, " retorted Marjorie. "I like tosee what the country is doing for the war. You two think of nothing butsilly jokes. "

"Don't show temper, my child, " observed Betty blandly. "Sylvia, I'mgoing down at once to put my name on the cricket list. I'll finish myunpacking afterwards. "

"I'll come with you, " said Sylvia. "We shan't get an innings to-morrowunless we sign on straight away. "

"They're a couple of rattle-pates!" laughed Chrissie as their room-matesmade their exit, executing a fox-trot _en route_. "I don't believe theyever think seriously about anything. Never mind, old sport! I'minterested in what you do in the holidays. Tell me some more about themunition works and the Belgian town. I like to hear all you've seen. Iwish I could go to Redferne myself. "

"You wouldn't see anything if you did, because only Uncle can takepeople round the works. Oh, it was wonderful! We went into the dangerzone. And we saw girls with their faces all yellow. I haven't time totell you half now, but I will afterwards. I wouldn't have missed it forthe world. "

"It does one good to know what's going on, " commented Chrissie. 

The Daylight Saving Act was now in operation, so the school had an extrahour available for outdoor exercise. Whenever the weather was fineenough they were encouraged to spend every available moment in the freshair. A certain amount of cricket practice was compulsory; but for therest of the time those who liked might play tennis or basket ball, orcould stroll about the grounds. Select parties, under the leadership ofa mistress, were taken botanizing, or to hunt for specimens on thebeach. There was keen competition for these rambles, and as eligibilitydepended upon marks in the Science classes, it considerably raised thestandard of work. 

Dona, who was rather dull at ordinary lessons, shone in Natural History. It was her one subject. She wrote her notes neatly, and would makebeautiful little drawings to illustrate the various points. She hadsharp eyes, and when out on a ramble would spy birds' nests or othertreasures which nobody else had noticed, and knew all the likeliestplaces in which to look for caterpillars. She was a great favourite withMiss Carter, the Science mistress, and her name was almost always downon the excursion list. One day, in company with eleven other ardentnaturalists and the mistress, she came toiling up from the beach on tothe road that led to Whitecliffe. Her basket, filled with spoils fromthe rocks and pools, was rather a dripping object, her shoes were fullof sand, and she was tired, but cheery. She had hurried on and reachedthe summit first, quite some way in advance of her companions. As shestood waiting for them she heard the sound of voices and footsteps, andround the corner came a girl, wheeling a long perambulator with a childin it. There was no mistaking the couple, they were the nursemaid andthe little boy whom Dona and Marjorie had met on the cliffs lastautumn. Lizzie looked just the same--rosy, good-natured, and untidy asever--but it was a very etherealized Eric who lay in the perambulator. The lovely little face looked white and transparent as alabaster, thebrown eyes seemed bigger and more wistful, the golden curls had grown, and framed the pale cheeks like a saint's halo, the small hands foldedon the shabby rug were thin and colourless. The child was wasted almostto a shadow, and the blue veins on his forehead showed prominently. Herecognized Dona at once, and for a moment a beautiful rosy flush floodedhis pathetic little face. 

"Oh, Lizzie, it's my fairy lady!" he cried excitedly. 

The nurse girl stopped in amazement. 

"Well, now! Who'd have thought of seeing you?" she said to Dona. "Eric'sbeen talking about you all the winter. He's been awful bad, he has. Thisis the first time I've had him out for months. He's still got that bookyou gave him. I should think he knows every story in it off by heart. "

Dona was bending over the carriage holding the frail little hand thatEric offered. 

"You're Silverstar!" he said, gazing up at her with keen satisfaction. "Where are Bluebell and Princess Goldilocks?"

"They're not here to-day. "

"Oh, I do so want to see them!"

"They'll be sorry to miss you. "

"He'll talk of nothing else now, " observed Lizzie. "You wouldn't believewhat a fancy he's taken to you three; and he's a queer child--hedoesn't like everybody. "

"I want to see the others!" repeated Eric, with the suspicion of a wailin his voice. 

"Look here, " said Dona hastily, "to-morrow's our exeat day. Can youbring him to that place on the cliffs where we met before? We'll bethere at four o'clock--all of us. You can leave him with us if you wantto go shopping. Now I must fly, for my teacher's calling me. "

"We'll be there, " smiled Eric, waving a good-bye. 

"That's if your ma says you're well enough, " added Lizzie cautiously. 

Before Preparation Dona sought out Marjorie, and told her of the meetingwith the little boy. 

"We've just got to be on the cliff to-morrow, " she said. "I wouldn'tdisappoint that child for a thousand pounds!"

"Auntie would send Hodson with us, I'm sure, if Elaine can't go. I'm soglad you happened to see him. We'd often wondered what had become ofhim, poor little chap! By the by, couldn't we take him something?"

"I'd thought of that. We'll fly down to Whitecliffe to-morrow, firstthing after we get to Auntie's, and buy him a book at the Stores. "

"I hope to goodness it'll be a fine day, or perhaps they won't let himcome. "

"I believe he'll cry his eyes out if they don't. He's tremendously seton it. "

Very fortunately the weather on Wednesday was all that could bedesired. Marjorie and Dona rushed into The Tamarisks in quite a state ofexcitement, and both together poured out their information. Elaine wasas interested as they to meet Eric again, and readily agreed to theproposed expedition. 

"We'll take some cake and milk with us, and have a little picnic, " shesuggested. "Let us tear down to Whitecliffe at once and buy him apresent. "

Shortly before four o'clock the three girls, carrying a tea-basket andseveral parcels, were walking along the cliffs above the cove. The longperambulator was already waiting at the trysting-place, and Eric, propped up with pillows, smiled a welcome. Elaine was shocked to see howill the child looked. He had been frail enough in the autumn, but nowthe poor little body seemed only a transparent garment through which thesoul shone plainly. She greeted him brightly, but with an ache in herheart. 

"My Princess!" he said. "So you've come back to me at last! And FairyBluebell too! Oh, I've wanted you all! It's been a weary winter. Thegnomes kept me shut up in their hill all the time. They wouldn't let meout. "

"Perhaps they were afraid the witches might catch you, " answeredMarjorie. 

"Yes, I expect that was partly it, but the gnomes are jealous, and liketo guard me. I don't know what I should have done without Titania. "

"Did she come to see you?"

"Sometimes. She can't come often, because she's so busy. She's gotcrowds of young fairies to look after and keep in order, and sometimesthey're naughty. You wouldn't believe fairies could be naughty, couldyou?"

"I suppose there are good and bad ones, " laughed Dona. 

"He's just silly over fairies!" broke in Lizzie. "Talks of nothing else, and makes out we're all witches or pixies or what not. Well, Eric, I'vegot to go and buy some butter. Will you be good if I leave you here tillI come back? I shan't be above half an hour or so, " she added to thegirls. 

"Don't hurry, " replied Elaine. "We can stay until half-past five. We'vebrought our tea, if Eric may have some with us. May he eat cake?"

"Oh yes! He'll tell you what he may eat, won't you, Eric?"

The little fellow nodded. His eyes were shining. 

"I didn't know it was to be a fairy feast!" he murmured softly, half tohimself. 

The girls were busy unpacking their parcels. They had brought severalpresents which they thought would amuse the child during the long hourshe probably spent in bed, a jig-saw puzzle, a drawing-slate, a box ofcoloured chalks, a painting-book, and a lovely volume of new fairytales. His delight was pathetic. He looked at each separately, andtouched it with a finger, as if it were a great treasure. The fairybook, with its coloured pictures of gnomes and pixies, he claspedtightly in his arms. 

"It's as good as having a birthday!" he sighed. "I had mine a whileago. Titania couldn't come to see me, because the young fairies had tobe looked after, but she sent me a paint box. I wish you knew Titania. "

"I wish we did. What's she like?"

"She's the beautifullest person in all the world. Nobody else can playfairies as well as she can. And she can tell a new story every time. You'd just fall straight in love with her if you saw her. I know youwould! It's a pity fairies have to be so busy, isn't it? Some day whenI'm better, and she has time, she's going to take me away for a holiday. Think of going away with Titania! The doctor says I must drink mymedicine if I want to get well. "

"Don't you like medicine?"

Eric pulled an eloquent face. 

"It's the nastiest stuff! But I promised Titania I'd take it. Isometimes have a chocolate after it. "

"Will you have one now? We're just going to unpack our basket to gettea. Will it hurt you if we wheel you over there on to the grass?There's such a lovely place where we could sit. "

The spot that the girls had chosen for their picnic was ideal. It was apatch of short fine grass near the edge of the cliff, with a bank for aseat. The ground was blue with the beautiful little flowers of thevernal squill, and clumps of sea-pinks, white bladder campion, andgolden lady's fingers bloomed in such profusion that the place was likea wild garden. The air was soft and warm, for it was one of thosebeautiful afternoons in early May when Nature seems predominant, andone can almost spy nymphs among the trees. Below them the sea rippledcalm and shining, merging at the horizon into the tender blue of thesky. Gulls and puffins wheeled and screamed over the rocks. Eric lookedround with a far-away expression on his quaint little face, and gravelyaccepted the flowers that Dona picked for him. 

"It's enchanted ground!" he said in his oldfashioned way. "Every flowerhides the heart of a tiny fairy. I know, because I've been here in mydreams. I have funny dreams sometimes. They're more real than beingawake. One night I was floating in the air, just like that bird over thesea. I lay on my back, and I could see the blue sky above me, and lookdown at the green cliffs far below. I wasn't frightened, because I knewI couldn't fall. I felt quite strong and well, and my leg didn't hurt meat all. Sometimes I dream I can go through the air. It isn't exactlyeither flying or floating or running--it's more like shooting. I get tothe tops of mountains, and see the wonderfullest places. And anothernight I was riding on the waves. There was a great storm, and I camesweeping in with the tide into the bay. I wish I could always dream likethat!"

"You shall have tea with the elves to-day, " said Elaine, bringing thelittle fellow back, if not to absolute reality, at least to a lessvisionary world than the dream-country he was picturing. "Look! I'vebrought a mug with a robin on it for your milk. May you eat bread andhoney? Honey is fairy food, you know. Here's a paper serviette withviolets round it, instead of a plate. "

Eric's appetite was apparently that of a sparrow. He ate a very littleof the bread and honey, and a tiny piece of cake, but drank the milkfeverishly. He seemed tired, and lay back for a while on his pillowswithout speaking, just gazing at the flowers and the sea and the sky. Hefondled his book now and then with a long sigh of content. Elainemotioned to Marjorie and Dona not to disturb him. Her knowledge ofnursing told her that the child must not be over-excited or wearied. Shefelt it a responsibility to have charge of him, and was rather relievedwhen Lizzie's creaking boots came back along the road. 

Eric brightened up to say good-bye. 

"I shall tell Titania all about you, " he vouchsafed. "Perhaps she'llcome and see me soon now. I love her best, of course, but I love younext best. I shall pretend every day that I'm playing with you here. "

"I hope he's not too tired, " whispered Elaine to Lizzie. 

"No, but I'd best get him home now, or his ma'll be anxious. He'd one ofhis attacks last night. Oh, it'll have done him good coming out thisafternoon! He was set on seeing you. "

The girls stood watching as Lizzie trundled the long perambulator away, then packed their basket and set off towards Brackenfield, for it wastime for Marjorie and Dona to return to school. 

"How stupid of us!" ejaculated Elaine. "We never asked his surname orwhere he lives, and I particularly intended to, this time. "

"So did I, but I quite forgot, " echoed Marjorie. 

"I'm not sure if I want to know, " said Dona. "He's just Eric to me--likesomeone out of a book. I've never met such a sweet, dear, precious thingin all my life before. Of course, if I don't know his name I can't sendhim things, but I've got an idea. We'll leave a little parcel for himwith the girl who looks after the refreshment kiosk on the WhitecliffeRoad, and ask her to give it to him next time he passes. She couldn'tmistake the long perambulator. "

"And write 'From the fairies' on it. Good!" agreed Marjorie. "It'sexactly the sort of thing that Eric will like. "

CHAPTER XIX

A Potato Walk

Dona's suggestion was adopted, and she and Marjorie began a littlesystem of correspondence with Eric. At their request Elaine bought asmall present and left the parcel with the attendant at the refreshmentkiosk, who promised to give it to him. 

"I know the child quite well by sight, " she said. "A delicate littlefellow in an invalid carriage. They used to pass here two or three timesa week last summer, and sometimes they'd stop at the kiosk and the girlwould buy him an orange or some sweets. I hadn't seen him for monthstill he went by a few days ago. Yes, I'll be sure to stop him when hepasses. "

That the girl kept her word was evident, for a week afterwards shehanded Elaine a letter addressed to "The Fairy Ladies". Elaineforwarded it to Marjorie and Dona. It was written in a round, childish hand, and ran:

 "DARLING BLUEBELL AND SILVERSTAR, "I like the puzzle you sent me. I often think about you. I love you very much. I hope I shall see you again. I played fairies all yesterday and pretended you were here. 

 "With love from "ERIC. "

"Dear little man!" said Marjorie. "I expect it's taken him a long timeto write this. We'll buy him a blotter and some fancy paper andenvelopes and leave them at the kiosk for him. "

"I wish we could go to the cove and see him again, " said Dona. 

It happened that for the next two exeats Aunt Ellinor had arranged atennis party or some other engagement for her nieces, so that it was notpossible to take a walk on the cliffs. They left a supply of littlepresents, however, at the kiosk, so that something could be given toEric every time he passed. The assistant was almost as interested asMarjorie and Dona. 

"He looks out for those parcels now, " she assured them. "You should justsee his face when I run out and give them to him. I believe he'd be everso disappointed if there was nothing. The girl that wheels him left amessage for you. His mother thanks you for your kindness; and will youplease excuse his writing, because it isn't very good for him and takeshim such a long time. He's never been able to go to school. "

"Poor little chap!" laughed Dona. "I expect someone has to sit by himand tell him how to spell every word. Never mind, he can draw fairieson the notepaper we sent him. We'll get him a red-and-blue chalkpencil. "

"I dare say he'd like a post-card album and some cards to put in it, "suggested Marjorie. 

"Oh yes! I saw some of flower fairies at the Stores. We'll ask Elaine toget them. "

"And those funny ones of cats and dogs. I've no doubt it's anything toamuse him when he has to lie still all the day long. "

As the summer wore on, and submarines sank many of our merchant vesselson the seas, the food question began to be an important problem atBrackenfield. Everyone was intensely patriotic and ready to do all inher power to help on the war. Mrs. Morrison believed in keeping thegirls well abreast of the important topics of the moment. She consideredthe oldfashioned schools of fifty years ago, where the pupils never sawa newspaper, and were utterly out of touch with the world, did notconduce to the making of good citizens. She liked her girls to think outquestions for themselves. She had several enthusiastic spirits among theprefects, and found that by giving them a few general hints to work uponshe could trust them to lead the others. Winifrede in particularrealized the gravity of the situation. Armed with a supply of leafletsfrom the local Food Control Bureau, she convened a meeting of the entireschool in the Assembly Hall. 

Winifrede was a girl whose intense love of her country and ready powerof fluent speech would probably lead her some day to a public platform. Meantime she could always sway a Brackenfield audience. She was dramaticin her methods, and when the girls entered the hall they were greeted bylarge hand-printed posters announcing:

 "THE GERMANS ARE TRYING TO STARVE US. GERMAN SUBMARINES ARE REDUCING SUPPLIES. YOU MUST ECONOMIZE AT HOME. "

There were no teachers present on this occasion, and the platform wasoccupied by the prefects. Winifrede, with an eager face and fullyconvinced of the burning necessity of rationing, stood up and began herspeech. 

"Girls! I think I needn't tell you that we're fighting in the mostterrible war the world has ever seen. We're matched against a foe whoseforce and cunning will need every atom of strength of which we'recapable. They are not only shooting our soldiers at the front, andbombing our towns, but by their submarine warfare they are deliberatelytrying to reduce us by starvation. There is already a food crisis in ourcountry. There is a serious shortage of wheat, of potatoes, of sugar, and of other food-stuffs. Perhaps you think that so long as you havemoney you will be able to buy food. That is not so. As long as there isplenty of food, money is a convenience to buy it with, but no more. Money is not value. If the food is not there, money will not make it, and money becomes useless. Food gives money its value. We can do withoutmoney; but we cannot do without food. People see the bakers' shops fullof bread, the butchers' shops full of meat, the grocers' shops full ofprovisions, and they believe there is plenty of food. This is merelyfood on the surface. The stock of food from which the shops draw thefood is low, seriously low, already. Unless we ration ourselves at once, and carefully, there will come days when there may be no bread at all atthe baker's. There is a shortage of wheat all over the world, not onlyin Europe, but also in North and South America. Millions of the men whogrew the wheat we eat are fighting, hundreds of thousands of them willnever go back to the fields they ploughed. If the present waste of breadand wheat flour continues, there will be hardly enough to go round tillnext harvest time. Great Britain only produces one-fifth of the bread iteats. Four-fifths of the wheat comes from abroad. Hundreds of the shipsthat brought it are now engaged in other work. They are carrying foodand munitions to France, Italy, and Russia. The ships that brought usfood are fewer by those hundreds. 

"It is the women of the country who must see to this. By carefulrationing we can make our supplies hold out until after the harvest. Ourmen are out at the front, fighting a grim battle, but, unless we do ourpart of the business at home, they may fight a losing battle. It is forus to see that our noble dead have not died in vain. With martyredBelgium for an object lesson, it is the duty of every British girl tomake every possible sacrifice to keep those unspeakable Huns out of ourislands. I appeal to you all to use the utmost economy and abstinence, and voluntarily to give up some of the things that you like. Rememberyou will be helping to win the war. There is a rationing pledge on thetable near the door, and I ask every girl to sign it and to wear theviolet ribbon that will be given her. It is the badge of the newtemperance cause. The freedom of the world depends at the present timeon the food thrift and self-restraint of our civilians, no less than onthe courage of our soldiers. Please take some of the leaflets which youwill find on the table, and read them. They have been sent here for usby the Food Control Bureau. "

After Winifrede's speech every girl felt in honour bound to comply withher request, and turn by turn they signed their pledges and sportedtheir violet ribbons. 

"It'll mean knocking off buns, I suppose, " sighed Sylvia mournfully. 

"Certainly. 

 'Save a bun, And do the Hun!'"

improvised Marjorie. 

"Look here!" said Betty, studying a pamphlet; "it says: 'If a man isworking hard he needs a great deal more food than when he is resting. There are no exceptions to this rule. It follows that workers saveenergy by resting as much as they can in their spare time. ' If that'strue, the less work we do the smaller our appetites will be. I vote wepetition the Empress, in the interests of patriotism, to shorten ourtime-table by half. "

"She'd probably suggest knocking off cricket and tennis instead, myBetty. "

"Well, at any rate, it says: 'large people need more food than small', and I'm taller than you, so I ought to have half of your dinner bread, old sport!"

"Ah, but look, it also says: 'people who are well covered need much lessfood than thin people', so I score there, and ought to have half of yourdinner bread instead. "

"We'll each stick to our own allowances, thanks!"

Mrs. Morrison, who was on the committee of the Whitecliffe Food ControlCampaign, was glad to have secured the co-operation of her girls in thealterations which she was now obliged to make in their dietary. On thewhole, they rather liked some of the substitutes for wheat flour, andquite enjoyed the barley-meal bread, and the oatcakes and maize-mealbiscuits that figured on the tables at tea-time. 

"They're dry, but you feel so patriotic when you eat them, " declaredMarjorie. 

"I believe you'd chump sawdust buns if you thought you were helping onthe war, " laughed Chrissie. 

"I would, with pleasure. "

It was just at this time that potatoes ran short. So far Brackenfieldhad not suffered in that respect, but now the supply from the largekitchen garden had given out, and the Whitecliffe greengrocers werequite unable to meet the demands of the school. For a fortnight thegirls ate swedes instead, and tried to like them. Then Mrs. Morrisonreceived a message from a farmer that he had plenty of potatoes in hisfields, but lacked the labour to cart them. He would, however, beprepared to dispose of a certain quantity on condition that they couldbe fetched. Here was news indeed! The potatoes were there, and onlyneeded to be carried away. The Principal at once organized parties ofgirls to go with baskets to the farm. Instead of sending Seniors, Intermediates, and Juniors separately, Mrs. Morrison orderedrepresentatives from the three hostels to form each detachment. Sheconsidered that lately the elder girls had been keeping too much alooffrom the younger ones, and that the spirit of unity in the school mightsuffer in consequence. The expedition would be an excellent opportunityfor meeting together, and she gave a hint to the prefects that she hadnoticed and deprecated their tendency to exclusiveness. 

As a direct result of her suggestions, Marjorie one afternoon foundherself walking to the farm in the select company of Winifrede Mason. Itwas such an overwhelming honour to be thus favoured by the head girlthat Marjorie's powers of conversation were at first rather damped, andshe replied in monosyllables to Winifrede's remarks; but the latter, whowas determined (as she had informed her fellow prefects) to "do her dutyby those Intermediates", persevered in her attempts to be pleasant, till Marjorie, who was naturally talkative, thawed at length and foundher tongue. 

There was no doubt that Winifrede, when she stepped down from herpedestal, was a most winning companion. She had a charming, humorous, racy, whimsical way of commenting on things, and a whole fund of amusingstories. Marjorie, astonished and fascinated, responded eagerly to heradvances, and by the time they reached the farm had formed quite adifferent estimation of the head girl. The walk in itself wasdelightful. Their way lay along a road that led over the moors. Oneither side stretched an expanse of gorse and whinberry bushes, interspersed with patches of grass, where sheep were feeding. Dykesfilled with water edged the road, and in these were growing rushes, andsedges, and crowfoot, and a few forget-me-nots and other water-lovingflowers. Larks were singing gloriously overhead, and the plovers flittedabout with their plaintive "pee-wit, pee-wit". Sometimes a stonechat ora wheatear would pause for a moment on a gorse stump, flirting its browntail before it flew out of sight, or young rabbits would peep from thewhinberry bushes and whisk away into cover. Far off in the distance laythe hazy outline of the sea. There was a great sense of space andopenness. The fresh pure air blew down from the hills, cooler and moreinvigorating even than the sea breeze. Except for the sheep, and anoccasional collie dog and shepherd, they had the world to themselves. Winifrede took long sighing breaths of air. Her eyes were shining withenjoyment. 

"I like the quiet of it all, " she told Marjorie. "I can understand thefeeling that made the mediæval hermits build their lonely little cellsin peaceful, beautiful spots. Some of the Hindoos do the same to-day, and go and live in the forests to have time to meditate. When I'mgetting old I'd like to come and take a cottage on this moor--notbefore, I think, because there's so very much I want to do in the worldfirst, but when I feel I'm growing past my work, then will be the timeto arrange my thoughts and slip into the spirit of the peace up here. "

"What kind of work do you want to do?" asked Marjorie. 

"I'm not sure yet. I'm leaving school, of course, at the end of thisterm, and I can't quite decide whether to go on to College or to beginsomething to help the war. Mrs. Morrison advises College. She says Icould be far more help afterwards if I were properly qualified, and Idare say she's right, only I don't want to wait. "

"I'm just yearning to leave school and be a V. A. D. , or drive anambulance wagon, " sympathized Marjorie. 

"My sister is out in France at canteen work, " confided Winifrede. "Itmakes me fearfully envious when I have her letters and think what she'sdoing for the Tommies. I've three brothers at the front, and fivecousins, and two more cousins were killed a year ago. My eldest brotherhas been wounded twice, and the youngest is in hospital now. I simplylive for news of them all. "

The girls had now reached the farm, a little low-built, whitewashedhouse almost on the summit of a hill. Though the principal occupation ofits owner lay among sheep, he had a clearing of fields, where he grewswedes, potatoes, and a little barley. In a sheltered place behind hisstable-yard he had a stock of last year's potatoes still left; they werepiled into a long heap, covered with straw and then with earth as aprotection. He took the girls round here, measured the potatoes in abushel bin, and then filled the baskets. 

"They won't keep much longer, " he informed Miss Norton. "I'd have cartedthem down to Whitecliffe, only I've no horse now, and it's difficult toborrow one; and I can't spare the time from the sheep either. Labour'sso scarce now. My two sons are fighting, and I've only a grandson offourteen and a daughter to help me. "

"Everybody is feeling the same pinch, " replied Miss Norton. "We're onlytoo glad to come and fetch the potatoes ourselves. It's a nice walk forus. "

The girls, who overheard the conversation, felt they cordially agreed. It was fun wandering round the little farm-yard, looking at the ducks, and chickens, and calves, or peeping inside the barns and stables. Several of them began to register vows to work on the land whenschool-days were over. 

"They've got a new German camp over there, " volunteered the farmer. "Isuppose their first contingent of prisoners arrived yesterday. Hadn'tyou heard about it? Oh, they've been busy for weeks putting up barbedwire! It can't be so far from your place either. You'd pass it if youcrossed the stile there and went back over the moor instead of round bythe road. "

At the news of a German camp a kind of electric thrill passed round thecompany. The girls were wild with curiosity to see it, and pressed MissNorton to allow them to return to Brackenfield by the moorland path. Themistress herself seemed interested, and consented quite readily. It wasa much quicker way back to the school, and would save time; she wasgrateful to Mr. Briggs for having pointed out so short a cut. 

The camp lay on the side of a hill about half-way between the farm andBrackenfield, near enough to distinguish the latter building quiteplainly in the distance. It was surrounded by an entanglement of barbedwire, and there were sentries on duty. Within the circle of wire weretents, and the girls could see washing hanging out, and a few figureslying on the ground and apparently smoking. They would have liked tolinger and look, but Miss Norton marched them briskly past, anddiscipline forbade an undue exhibition of curiosity. They had goneperhaps only a few hundred yards when they heard the regular tramp-trampof footsteps, and up from the dell below came a further batch ofprisoners under an escort of soldiers. Miss Norton hastily marshalledher flock, and made them stand aside to allow the contingent room topass. They were a tall, fine-looking set of men, stouter, and apparentlybetter fed, than their guards. They had no appearance of hard usage orill treatment, and were marching quite cheerily towards the camp, probably anticipating a meal. The girls, drawn up in double line, thrilled with excitement as they passed. 

"If one tried to run away would they shoot him?" asked Betty in an awedvoice. 

"Yes, the guards have their rifles all ready, " replied Marjorie; "if onetried to escape he'd have a bullet through his back in a second--andquite right too! What's the matter, Chrissie?"

"Nothing--only it makes me feel queer. "

"I feel queer when I remember how many of our own men are prisoners inGermany, " declared Winifrede. 

"Quietly, girls! And don't stare!" said Miss Norton. "We ought to pitythese poor men. It is a terrible thing to be a prisoner of war. "

"I don't pity them, " grumbled Marjorie fiercely under her breath. "Perhaps they're the very ones who've been fighting Leonard's regiment. "

"Yes, when one thinks of one's brothers, it doesn't make one love theGermans, " whispered Winifrede. 

"Love them!" flared Marjorie. "I wouldn't consciously speak to a Germanfor ten thousand pounds, and if I happened by mistake to shake handswith one--well, I'd have to go and disinfect my hand afterwards!"

"Miss Norton's welcome to them if she pities them, " said Betty frombehind. 

"Go on, girls, now!" came the teacher's voice, as the contingent trampedaway into the camp. 

"I'm disgusted with Miss Norton!" groused Marjorie. "Come along, Chrissie! What's the matter with you, old sport? Anybody'd think you'dseen a ghost instead of a batch of Germans. Why, you've gone quitepale!"

"I'm only tired, " snapped Chrissie rather crossly. "You're always makingremarks about something. I'm going to walk with Patricia. "

"Oh, all right! Just as you please. I don't press myself on anybody. I'll walk with Winifrede again if she'll have me. "

CHAPTER XX

Patriotic Gardening

The direct result of the potato walk to Mr. Briggs's farm was that afriendship sprang up between Winifrede and Marjorie. It was, of course, rather an exceptional friendship, involving condescension on the part ofthe head girl and frantic devotion on Marjorie's part. Six months ago itwould not have been possible, for Winifrede's creed of exclusiveness haddiscouraged any familiarity with her juniors, and it was only inaccordance with Mrs. Morrison's wishes that she had broken her barrierof reserve. She had, however, taken rather a fancy to Marjorie, andsometimes invited her into her study. To go and sit in Winifrede's tinysanctum, to see her books, photographs, post cards, and other treasures, and to be regaled with cocoa and biscuits, was a privilege that raisedMarjorie to the seventh heaven of bliss. Her impulsive, warm-hearteddisposition made her apt to take up hot friendships, and for the presentshe worshipped Winifrede. To be singled out for favour by the head girlwas in itself a distinction; but, apart from that, Marjorie keenlyappreciated her society. She would wait about to do any little errandfor her, would wash her brushes after the oil-painting lesson, sharpenher pencils, set butterflies for her, mount pressed flowers, or printout photographs. Winifrede was fond of entomology, and Marjorie, beforetime a lukewarm naturalist, now waxed enthusiastic in thecollection of specimens. She was running one day in pursuit of agorgeous dragon-fly through the little wood that skirted theplaying-fields, and, with her eyes fixed on her elusive quarry, shealmost tumbled over Chrissie, who was sitting by the side of the stream. 

"Hallo!" said Marjorie, drawing herself up suddenly. "I didn't see you. As a matter of fact I wasn't looking where I was going. "

"What are you doing here?" asked Chrissie. 

Marjorie pointed to her butterfly-net. 

"What are you doing here?" she returned. 

"Reading. "

Chrissie's eyes were red, and she blinked rapidly. 

"You've been crying, " said Marjorie tactlessly. 

Her chum flushed crimson. 

"I've not! I wish you'd just let me alone. "

"Cheer oh! Don't get raggy, old sport!"

Chrissie turned away, and, opening her book, began to read. 

"Will you come round the field with me?" asked Marjorie. 

"No, thanks; I'd rather stay where I am. "

"Oh, very well! I'm off. Ta-ta!"

This was not the first little tiff that had taken place between the twogirls. Chrissie seemed to have changed lately. She was moody andself-absorbed, and ready to fire up on very slight provocation. Herdevotion to Marjorie seemed to have somewhat waned. She scarcely evermade her presents now or wrote her notes. She was chatty enough in thedormitory, but saw little of her in recreation hours. Marjorie set thisdown to jealousy of her friendship with Winifrede. In her absorption inher head girl she had certainly not given Chrissie so much of her timeas formerly. She walked along the field now rather soberly. She dislikedquarrelling, but her own temper was hot as well as her chum's. 

"I can't help it, " she groused. "Chrissie's always taking offence. Everything I do seems to rub her the wrong way. She needn't think I'mgoing to give up Winifrede! I wish she'd be more sensible. Well, I don'tcare; I shall just take no notice and leave her to herself, and thenshe'll probably come round. "

Marjorie's surmises proved correct, for Chrissie placed a dainty littlebottle of scent and an enthusiastic note on her dressing-table thatevening, the clouds blew over, and for a time, at any rate, matters werequite pleasant again. Constant little quarrels, however, wear holes in afriendship, and it was evident to St. Elgiva's that some cleavage hadtaken place. 

"Chrissie and Marjorie seem a little off with the David and Jonathanbusiness, " commented Francie. 

"Too hot to last, I fancy, " returned Patricia. "Marjorie's got a newidol now. "

One reason for the separation between the two girls was that, whileChrissie cared chiefly for tennis, Marjorie was a devotee of cricket, and was spending most of her spare time under the coaching of StellaPearson, the games captain. She showed much promise in bowling, and wasnot without hopes of being put into her house eleven. To play for St. Elgiva's was an honour worth working for. It would be a great triumph tobe able to write the news to her brothers. 

Dona had not taken violently either to cricket or tennis, and beyond thecompulsory practice never touched bat or ball, giving herself upentirely to Natural History study and Photography. She was not soenergetic as her sister, and did not much care for running about. Athalf term, however, a new interest claimed her. The head gardener wastaken ill, and Sister Johnstone assumed the responsibility for his work. She asked for helpers, and a number of girls volunteered their services, and occupied themselves busily about the grounds. They rolled and markedthe tennis-courts, earthed up potatoes, put sticks for the peas, plantedout cabbages, and weeded the drive. 

It was the kind of work that appealed to Dona, and her satisfaction wascomplete when Mrs. Morrison excused her cricket practices for thepurpose. 

"I like gardening much better than games, " she confided to Marjorie. "There's more to show for it. What have you got at the end of a wholeterm's cricket, I should like to know?"

"Honour, my child!" said Marjorie. 

"Well, I shall have six rows of cauliflowers, and that's more to thepoint, especially in these hard times, " twinkled Dona. "I consider it'sI who am the patriotic one now. You're not helping the war by bowlingwith Stella, and every cauliflower of mine will go to feed a soldier. "

"I thought the school was to eat them. "

"They won't be ready till the holidays, so Sister Johnstone says they'llhave to be sent to the Red Cross Hospital. We're going to gather thefirst crop of peas, though, to-night. You'll eat them at dinnerto-morrow. "

Two of the prefects, Meg Hutchinson and Gladys Butler, had joined theband of gardeners, and carried on operations with enthusiasm. 

"I mean to go on the land as soon as I leave school, " declared Meg. "Mysister Molly's working at a farm in Herefordshire. She gets up at sixevery morning to feed the pigs and cows, breakfast is at eight, and thenshe goes round to look after the cattle in the fields. Dinner is attwelve, and after that she cleans harness, or takes the horses to beshod, and feeds the pigs and calves again. She loves it, and she's wonher green armlet from the Government. "

"My cousin's working at a market garden, " said Gladys. "She bicyclesover every morning from home. It's three miles away, so she has to startever so early. She's got to know all about managing the tomato housesnow. Once she'd a very funny experience. They sent her out for a day totidy somebody's garden. She took a little can full of coffee with her, and some lunch in a basket. An old gentleman and lady came out tosuperintend the gardening, and they seemed most staggered to find thatshe was a lady, and couldn't understand it at all; but they were verykind and sent her some tea into the greenhouse. Evidently they haddebated whether to invite her into the drawing-room or not, but hadturned tail at the thought of her thick boots on the best carpet. Nelliewas so amused. She said she felt far too dirty after digging up bordersto go indoors, and was most relieved that they didn't invite her. Shehad a tray full of all sorts of things in the greenhouse--cakes and jamand potted meat. The old lady asked her ever so many questions, and itturned out that they knew some mutual friends. Wasn't it funny?"

Mrs. Morrison was very pleased with the results of the girls' work inthe garden. She declared that the tennis-courts had never looked better, and that the crop of vegetables was unusually fine. 

"I can't give you armlets, " she said, "though you thoroughly deservethem. I should like to have your photos taken in a group, to keep as aremembrance. I shall call you my 'Back to the Land Girls'. "

At Brackenfield any wish expressed by the Empress was carried out ifpossible, so Muriel Adams, who possessed the best and biggest camera, was requisitioned to take the gardeners. They grouped themselvespicturesquely round a wheelbarrow, some holding spades, rakes, orwatering-cans, and others displaying their best specimens of carrots orcabbages. Sister Johnstone, in the middle, smiled benignly. The platewas duly developed, and a good print taken and handed round forinspection. Each girl, of course, declared that her own portrait wasatrocious, but those of the others excellent, and it was unanimouslydecided to have a copy framed for presentation to Mrs. Morrison. 

There was one advantage in belonging to the "Back to the Land Girls", they might visit the kitchen garden at any time they wished. It wasforbidden ground to the rest of the school, so it was rather nice to beable to wander at will between the long lines of gooseberry bushes orrows of peas. Dona loved the fresh smell of it all, especially afterrain. She spent every available moment there, for it was an excellentplace for pursuing natural history study. She had many opportunities ofobserving birds or of catching moths and butterflies, and generally hada net handy. With a magnifying glass she often watched the movements ofsmall insects. She had come in one afternoon for this purpose, andwandered down to a rather wild spot at the bottom of the garden. It wasa small piece of rough ground surrounded by a high hedge, on the fartherside of which the land sloped in a sharp decline. As Dona hunted aboutamong the docks for caterpillars or other specimens, greatly to hersurprise she saw a figure come pushing through the hedge. It wore a gym. Costume and a St. Elgiva's hat, and, as the leaves parted, they revealedthe face of Chrissie Lang. Her astonishment was evidently equal toDona's. For a moment she flushed crimson, then turned the matter offairily. 

"I've often thought I should like to see what was on the other side ofthat hedge, " she remarked. "You get a nice view across the country. "

"You'll lose three conduct marks if you're caught in the kitchengarden, " remarked Dona drily. She was not remarkably fond of Chrissie, and did not see why anyone else should enjoy the privileges accorded tothose who were working in the garden. "Meg Hutchinson's weeding cabbagesup by the cucumber frames, " she added. 

"Thanks for telling me. I'll go out the other way. I've no particularwish to be pounced upon. "

"What's that in your hand?" asked Dona. "A looking-glass, I declare!Well, Chrissie Lang, of all conceited people you really are the limit!Did you bring it out to admire your beauty?"

"I want to try a new way of doing my hair, and there's no peace in thedormitory. "

"Can't you draw the curtains of your cubicle?"

"They'd peep round and laugh at me. "

"Well, anyone would laugh at you more for bringing out a looking-glassinto the garden. I think you're the silliest idiot I've ever met!"

"Thanks for the compliment!"

Chrissie strolled away, whistling jauntily to herself, and picking agooseberry or two from the bushes as she passed. Dona frowned as shewatched her--it was a point of honour with the Back to the Land Girlsnever to touch any of the fruit. By a heroic effort she refrained fromrunning after Chrissie and giving a further unvarnished opinion of her. Instead, however, she walked back up the other path. She found MegHutchinson and Gladys Butler sitting on the cucumber frame. It was in ahigh part of the garden, and commanded a good view over the country. Gladys had a pair of field-glasses, and with their aid could plainlymake out the German camp on the hill opposite. She was quite excited. 

"I can see the barbed wire, " she declared, "and the tents, and I believeI can make out some things that look like figures. The focus of theseglasses isn't very good. I wish we had a telescope. "

"If they've field-glasses I expect they can see the school, " said Meg. 

"Oh, but they wouldn't let them have any, you may be sure!"

"Are they kept very strictly?" asked Dona. 

"Of course. They're under military discipline, " explained Meg. 

"Would you like to take a peep?" said Gladys, offering the glasses. "Youmust screw this part round till it focuses right for your eyes. Can yousee now?"

"Yes, beautifully. What are they doing?"

"Just lounging about I expect. I believe they have to do a certainamount of camp work, keep their tents tidy, and clean the pans and peelpotatoes and that kind of thing, and they may play games. "

"It's a pity we can't set them to work on the land, " said Meg. 

"They do in some places. I'm afraid it couldn't be managed here. So nearthe sea it would be far too easy for them to escape. "

CHAPTER XXI

The Roll of Honour

Letters arrived at Brackenfield by an early post. They were inspectedfirst by the house mistresses, and delivered immediately after breakfastto the girls, who generally flew out into the quadrangle or the groundsto devour them. Mrs. Anderson made it a rule to write to Marjorie andDona alternately, and they would hand over their news to each other. OnTuesday morning Marjorie received the usual letter in her mother'shandwriting, but to her surprise noticed that the postmark was "London"instead of "Silverwood". With a sudden misgiving she tore it open. Itcontained bad tidings. Larry, who had lately been sent to the front, hadbeen wounded in action, and was in a military hospital in London. Hismother had hurried up to town to see him, and had found him very ill. Hewas to undergo an operation on the following day. 

"I shall remain here till the operation is over, " wrote Mrs. Anderson. "I feel I must be near him while he is in such a dangerous condition. Iwill send you another bulletin to-morrow. "

Marjorie went to find Dona, and in defiance of school etiquette walkedboldly into Ethelberta's. She knew that on such an occasion she wouldnot be reprimanded. Miss Jones, who happened to come into the room, comforted the two girls as best she could. 

"While there is life there is hope, " she said. "Many of our soldiers gothrough the most terrible operations and make wonderful recoveries. Surgeons nowadays are marvellously clever. My own brother wasdangerously wounded last autumn, and is back in the trenches now. "

"I shall think of Larry all day, " sobbed Dona. 

"Are they ever out of our thoughts?" said Miss Jones. "I believe we alldo the whole of our work with the trenches always in the background ofour minds. Most of us at Brackenfield simply live for news from thefront. "

There was great feeling for Marjorie in Dormitory No. 9. Betty had had abrother wounded earlier in the war, and Sylvia had lost a cousin, sothey could understand her anxiety. Chrissie also offered sympathy. 

"I know how wretched you must be, " she said. 

"Thanks, " answered Marjorie. "It certainly makes one jumpy to have one'srelations in the army. "

"Isn't your brother fighting, Chrissie?" asked Betty. 

"No, " replied Chrissie briefly. 

"But he must surely be of military age?"

"He's not very well at present. "

Betty and Sylvia looked at each other. There was something mysteriousabout Chrissie's brother. She seldom alluded to him, and she had latelyremoved his photograph from her dressing-table. The girls alwayssurmised that he must be a conscientious objector. They felt that itwould be a terrible disgrace to own a relative who refused to defend hiscountry. They were sorry for Chrissie, but it did not make them disposedto be any more friendly towards her. 

To Marjorie the news about Larry came as a shock. It was the firstcasualty in the family. She now realized the grim horror of the war in away that she had not done before. All that day she went about with thesense of a dark shadow haunting her. Next morning, however, the bulletinwas better. The operation had been entirely successful, and the patient, though weak, was likely to recover. 

"The doctor gives me very good hopes, " wrote Mrs. Anderson. "Larry ishaving the best of skilled nursing, so we feel that everything possibleis being done for him. "

With a great weight off her mind, Marjorie handed the letter to Dona, and hurried off to look for Winifrede to tell her the good news. As shewas not in the quadrangle, Marjorie went into the library on the chanceof finding her there. The room was empty, though Miss Duckworth had justbeen in to put up fresh notices. Almost automatically Marjorie strolledup, and began to read them. A Roll of Honour was kept at Brackenfield, where the names of relations of past and present girls were recorded. Itwas rewritten every week, so as to keep it up to date. She knew thatLarry would be mentioned in this last list. Thank God that it was onlyamong the wounded. The "killed" came first. 

 ADAMS, Captain N. H. , 4th Staffordshires (fiancé of Dorothy Craig). 

 HUNT, Captain J. C. , Welsh Borderers (brother of Sophy Hunt). 

 JACKSON, Lieut. P. , 3rd Lancashires (husband of Mabel Irving). 

 KEARY, Private P. L. , Irish Brigade (brother of Eileen Keary). 

 PRESTON, Private H. , West Yorks (brother of Kathleen and Joyce Preston). 

Marjorie stopped suddenly. Private Preston--the humorous dark-eyed youngsoldier whose acquaintance she had made in the train, and renewed in theRed Cross Hospital. Surely it could not be he! Alas! it was only tooplain. She knew he was the brother of Kathleen and Joyce Preston, for hehad himself mentioned that his sisters used to be at Brackenfield. Alsohe was certainly in the West Yorkshire regiment. This bright, strong, clever, capable young life sacrificed! Marjorie felt as if she hadreceived a personal blow. Oh, the war was cruel--cruel! Death waspicking England's fairest flowers indeed. A certain chapter in her life, which had seemed to promise many very sweet hopes, was now for everclosed. 

"They might have put his V. C. On the list, " she said to herself. "I wishI knew where he's buried. I shall never forget him--though I only sawhim twice. He was quite different from anyone else I've ever met. "

Somehow Marjorie did not feel capable of mentioning Private Preston toanybody, even to Dona. She had kept the little newspaper photograph ofhim which had been cut out of the _Onlooker_, when he won his V. C. Sheenclosed it in an envelope and put it within the leaves of her Bible. That seemed the most appropriate place for it. She could not leave itamongst the portraits of her other war heroes, for fear her room-matesmight refer to it. To discuss him now with Betty or Sylvia would be adesecration. His death was a wound that would not bear handling. Forsome days afterwards she was unusually quiet. The girls thought she wasfretting about her brother, and tried to cheer her up, for Larry'sbulletins were excellent, and he seemed to be making a wonderfulrecovery. 

"He is to leave the military hospital in a fortnight, " wrote Mrs. Anderson, "and be transferred to a Red Cross hospital. We are using allour influence to get him sent to Whitecliffe, where Aunt Ellinor andElaine could specially look after him. "

To have Larry at Whitecliffe would indeed be a cause for rejoicing. Marjorie could picture the spoiling he would receive at the Red CrossHospital. She wondered if he would have the same bed that had beenoccupied by Private Preston. It was No. 17, she remembered. "One shallbe taken, and the other left, " she thought. For Larry there was the gladwelcome and the nursing back to life and health, and for that otherbrave boy a grave in a foreign land. Some lines from a little volume ofverses flashed to her memory. They had struck her attention only a weekbefore, and she had learnt them by heart. 

 "For us-- The parting and the sorrow; For him-- 'God speed!' One fight, -- A noble deed, -- 'Good-night!' And no to-morrow. Where he is, In Thy Peace Time is not, Nor smallest sorrow. "

Marjorie was almost glad that on her next exeat at The Tamarisks Elainewas away from home. She was afraid her cousin might speak of PrivatePreston, and she did not wish to mention his name again. 

"I'm afraid you'll be dull this afternoon without Elaine, " said AuntEllinor; "and I'm obliged to attend a committee meeting at the FoodControl Bureau. I've arranged for Hodson to take you out. Where wouldyou like to go? To Whitecliffe, and have tea at the café? You mustchoose exactly what you think would be nicest. "

As the girls wished to do a little shopping, they decided to visitWhitecliffe first, have an early tea at the café, and then take a walkon the moor, ending at Brackenfield, where Hodson would leave them. 

"That's all right, then, " said Mrs. Trafford. "I'm sorry I can't be withyou myself to-day. Get some sweets at the café and have some ices ifyou like. I must hurry away now to my committee. Hodson won't keep youwaiting long; I've told her to get ready. "

Left alone, the girls grumbled a little at the necessity of taking anescort with them. 

"At fourteen and sixteen we surely don't need a nursemaid, " sniffedMarjorie. "It's a perfectly ridiculous rule that we mayn't walk tenyards by ourselves, even when we're out for the afternoon. We might beinterned Germans or conscientious objectors if somebody always has tomount guard over us. What does the Empress think we're going to do, Iwonder?"

"Ask airmen for autographs, or snowball soldiers!" twinkled Dona. 

"Oh, surely she's forgotten those old crimes now!"

"I wouldn't be sure. The Empress has a long memory. Besides, the rule'sfor everybody, not only for us. "

"I know. Patricia was horribly savage last week. An officer cousin wasover in Whitecliffe, and she wasn't allowed to go and meet him, becauseno one could be spared to act chaperon. "

"Some friends asked Mona to tea to-day, and the Empress wouldn't let heraccept. We only go to Auntie's every fortnight because Mother speciallystipulated that we should. "

"I'm jolly glad she did. It makes such a change. "

"I wish Hodson would hurry up!"

Hodson, the housemaid, took a considerable time to don her outdoorgarments, but she proclaimed herself ready at last. She was a tall, middle-aged woman in spectacles, with large teeth, and showed her gumswhen she talked. She spoke in a slow, melancholy voice, and, to judgefrom her depressed expression, evidently considered herself a martyr forthe afternoon. She was hardly the companion the girls would haveselected, but they had to make the best of her. It would be amusing, atany rate, to go in to Whitecliffe. Marjorie had her camera, and wishedto take some photographs. 

"I've just two films left, " she said, "so I'll use those on the waydown, and then get a fresh dozen put in at the Stores. Let us go by thehigh road, so that we can pass the kiosk and ask about Eric. "

The attendant at the lemonade stall smiled brightly at mention of thelittle fellow. 

"I saw his pram go by an hour ago, and ran out and gave him your lastparcel, " she informed them. "You'll very likely see him down inWhitecliffe. He left his love for you. "

"I hope we shan't miss him, " said Dona. 

Round the very next turn of the road, however, the girls met the invalidcarriage coming up from the town. It was loaded as usual with manypackages, over the top of which Eric's small white face peered out. Hewaved a gleeful welcome at the sight of his fairy ladies. 

"I've read all the stories you sent me, " he began, "and I've nearlyfinished chalking the painting-book. I like those post cards of fairies. I've put them all in the post-card album. "

"He thinks such a lot of the things you send him, " volunteered Lizzie. "His ma says she doesn't know how to thank you. It keeps him amused forhours to have those chalks and puzzles. He sings away to himself overthem, as happy as a king. "

"I'd like to take his photo while I've got the camera with me, " saidMarjorie. "Can you turn the pram round a little--so? That's better. Idon't want the sun right in his face, it makes him screw up his eyes. Now, Eric, look at me, and put on your best smile. I'm just going----"

"Wait a moment, " interrupted Dona. "Look what's coming up the road. You've only two films, remember!"

A contingent of German prisoners were being marched from the station tothe camp on the moors. They were tramping along under an escort ofsoldiers. 

"Oh, I must snap them!" exclaimed Marjorie. "But I'll have Eric in thephoto too. I can just get them all in. "

She moved her position slightly, and pressed her button, then, rapidlywinding on the films to the next number, took a second snapshot. 

"The light was excellent, and they ought to come out, " she triumphed. "How jolly to have got a photo of the prisoners! Eric, you were lookingjust fine. "

"We must be getting on home, " said Lizzie. "I've a lot of cleaning to dothis afternoon when I get back. Say good-bye to the ladies, Eric. "

The little fellow held up his face to be kissed, and Marjorie and Donahugged him, regardless of spectators on the road. 

"You dear wee thing, take care of yourself, " said Dona. "Call at thekiosk next time you pass, and perhaps another parcel will have arrivedfrom fairyland. "

"I know who the fairies are!" laughed Eric, as his perambulator movedaway. 

Escorted by the melancholy Hodson, the girls passed a pleasant enoughafternoon in Whitecliffe. They visited several shops, and had as good atea at the café as the rationing order allowed, supplementing the ratherscanty supply with ices and sweets. It was much too early yet to returnto Brackenfield, so they suggested making a detour round the moors, andending up at school. Hodson acquiesced in her usual lack-lustre manner. 

"I'm a good walker, miss, " she volunteered. "I don't mind where you go. It's all the same to me, as long as I see you back into school by sixo'clock. Mrs. Trafford said I wasn't to let you be late. I've brought mywatch with me. "

"And we've got ours. It's all right, Hodson, we'll keep an eye on thetime. "

It was a relief to know that Hodson was a good walker. They feltjustified in giving her a little exercise. They were quite freshthemselves, and ready for a country tramp. They left the town by a shortcut, and climbed up the cliff side on to the moors. Though they knewEric would not be there that afternoon, they nevertheless determined tovisit their favourite cove. It was an excellent place for flowers, andDona hoped that she might find a few fresh specimens there. 

The girls had reached their old trysting-place, and were gathering somecranesbill geraniums, when a figure suddenly climbed the wall opposite, and dropped down into the road. To their immense amazement it was MissNorton. She stopped at the sight of her pupils and looked profoundlyembarrassed, whether at being caught in the undignified act ofscrambling over a wall, or for some other reason, they could not judge. 

"Oh! I was just taking a little ramble over the moors, " she explained. "The air's very pleasant this afternoon, isn't it?"

"Yes, " replied Marjorie briefly. She could think of nothing else to say. 

Miss Norton nodded, and passed on without further remark. The girlsstood watching her as she walked down the road. 

"What's Norty doing up here?" queried Marjorie. "She's not fond ofnatural history, and she doesn't much like walks. "

"She's going towards the village. "

"I vote we go too. "

They had never yet been to the village, and though Elaine had describedit as not worth visiting, they felt curious to see it. It turned out tobe a straggling row of rather slummy-looking cottages, with a postoffice, a general shop, and a public-house. Miss Norton must havealready passed through it, for she was nowhere to be seen. Dona stoodfor a moment gazing into the window of the shop, where a variety ofmiscellaneous articles were displayed. 

"They've actually got Paradise drops!" she murmured. "I haven't boughtany for months. I'm going to get some for Ailsa. "

Followed by the faithful Hodson, the girls entered the shop. While Donamade her purchase, Marjorie stood by the counter, staring idly out intothe road. She saw the door of the post office open, and Miss Nortonappeared. The mistress looked carefully up and down the village, thenwalked hurriedly across the road, and bolted into "The Royal George"opposite. Marjorie gasped. That the august house mistress of St. Elgiva's should visit an obscure and second-rate public-house was surelya most unusual circumstance. She could not understand it at all. Shediscussed it with Dona on the way back. 

"Wanted some ginger pop, perhaps, " suggested Dona. 

"She could have got that at the shop. They had a whole case of bottles. No, Dona, there's something funny about it. The fact is, I'm afraid MissNorton is a pro-German. She was sympathizing ever so much with thoseprisoners who were being marched into camp. She may have come here toleave some message for them. You know it was never found out who putthat lamp in the Observatory window; it was certainly a signal, and Ihad seen Norty up there. I've had my eye on her ever since, in caseshe's a spy. "

"She can talk German jolly well, " observed Dona. 

"I know she can. She's spent two years in Germany, and said it was thehappiest time of her life. She can't be patriotic at heart to say that. Do you know, Winifrede told me that a few days ago she and Jean hadnoticed such a queer light dancing about on the hills near the camp. Itwas just as if somebody was heliographing. "

"What's heliographing?"

"Dona, you little stupid, you know that! Why, it's signalling byflashing lights. There's a regular code. It's done with a mirror. Well, Brackenfield is right opposite the camp, and it would be quite possiblefor Norty to be helioing to the prisoners. They're always on thelook-out for somebody to communicate with them and help them to escape. I suppose there are hundreds of spies going about in England, and no oneknows who they are. They just pass for ordinary innocent kind of people, but they ask all kinds of questions, and pick up scraps of informationthat will be useful to the enemy. How is it that most of our secretsappear in the Berlin papers? There must be treachery going on somewhere. It's generally in very unsuspected places. One of the teachers in aschool might just as well as not be a spy. "

"How dreadful!" shuddered Dona. 

"Well, you never know. Of course, they don't go about labelled 'In thepay of the Kaiser', but there must be a great many people--English too, all shame to them!--who are receiving money from Germany to betray theircountry. "

CHAPTER XXII

The Magic Lantern

When Marjorie took an idea into her head it generally for the timefilled the whole of her mental horizon. She had never liked Miss Norton, and she now mistrusted her. The evidence that she had to go upon wascertainly very slight, but, as Marjorie argued, "Straws show how thewind blows", and anyone capable of sympathizing with Germans might alsobe capable of assisting them. She felt somewhat in the position ofHamlet, doubting whether she had really surprised a dark secret or not, and anxious for more circumstantial evidence before she told others ofher suspicions. She strictly charged Dona not to mention meeting MissNorton in the little hamlet of Sandside, which Dona readily promised. She was not imaginative, and was at present far more interested in rowsof cauliflowers or specimens of seaweeds than in problematical Germanspies. 

Marjorie, with several detective stories fresh in her memory, determinedto go to work craftily. She set little traps for Miss Norton. She wouldcasually ask her questions about Germany, or about prisoners of war, tojudge by her answers where her sympathies lay. The mistress, however, was evidently on her guard, and replied in terms of caution. One thingMarjorie learned which she considered might be a suspiciouscircumstance. Miss Norton received many letters from abroad. She hadgiven foreign stamps to Rose Butler, who had seen her tear them offenvelopes marked "Opened by the censor". The stamps were from Egypt, Malta, Switzerland, Spain, Holland, and Buenos Ayres, a strange varietyof places in which to have correspondents, so thought Marjorie. 

"Of course they're opened by the censor, but who knows if there isn't asecret cipher under the guise of an ordinary letter? They may have allkinds of treasonable secrets in them. Norty might get information andsend it to those friends in foreign countries, and they would telegraphit in code through a neutral country to Berlin. "

She ascertained through one of the prefects that Miss Norton intended tospend her holidays in the Isle of Wight. This again seemedextraordinary, for the teacher notoriously suffered greatly from theheat in summer, and yearned for a bracing climate such as that ofScotland; further, she was nervous about air raids, so that the southcoast would surely be a very unsuitable spot to select for one whowished to take a restful vacation. Patricia, whose parents had been on avisit to Whitecliffe, and had taken her out on a Saturday afternoon, reported that at the hotel some foreigners--presumably Belgians--werestaying, and that she had noticed Miss Norton drinking coffee with themin the lounge. 

"Are you sure they were Belgians?" asked Marjorie with assumedcarelessness. 

"Why, the people in the hotel said so. "

"What were they like?"

"Oh, fair and rather fat! One of them was a Madame Moeller. She playedthe piano beautifully; everybody came flocking into the lounge to listento her. "

"Moeller doesn't sound like a French name. "

"Well, I said they were Belgians. "

"It has rather a German smack about it. What language were they speakingto each other?"

"Something I couldn't understand. Not French, certainly. "

"Was it German?"

"I don't know any German, so I can't tell. It might have been Flemish. "

Marjorie several times felt tempted to confide her suspicions toWinifrede, but her courage never rose to the required point. She had aninstinct that the head girl would pooh-pooh the whole matter, and eithercall her a ridiculous child, or be rather angry with her for harbouringsuch ideas about her house mistress. Winifrede liked to lead, and wasnever very ready to adopt other people's opinions; it was improbablethat she would listen readily to the views of an Intermediate, even ofone whom she was patronizing. A head girl is somewhat in the position ofthe lion in Æsop's fables: it is unwise to offend her. KnowingWinifrede's disposition, Marjorie dared not risk a breach of the verydesirable intimacy which at present existed between them. She yearned, however, for a confidante. The burden of her suspicions was heavy tobear alone, and she felt that sometimes two heads were better than one. Except on exeat days she saw little of Dona, and discussing matters withthat rather stolid little person was not a very exhilaratingperformance. In her dilemma she turned to Chrissie. The two had sharedthe secret of the Observatory window, and Chrissie, one of the mostenthusiastic members of their patriotic society, would surely understandand sympathize where Winifrede might laugh or scold. Marjorie felt thatshe had lately rather neglected her chum. Their squabbles had causedfrequent coolnesses, and each had been going her own way. She now madean opportunity to walk with Chrissie down the dingle, and confided toher the whole story of her doubts. Her chum listened very attentively. 

"It looks queer!" she commented. "Yes, more than queer! I always setMiss Norton down as a pro-German. Those foreign letters ought to beinvestigated. I wish I could get hold of some of them. It's our duty tolook after this, Marjorie. You're patriotic? Well, so am I. We may beable to render a great service to our country if we can track down aspy. We'll set all our energies to work. "

"What are we going to do?" asked Marjorie, much impressed. 

"Leave it to me, and I'll think out a plan of campaign. These thingsare a battle of brains. She's clever, and we've got to outwit her. Whowere those foreigners she was talking to in the hotel, I should like toknow?"

"That was just what I thought. "

"For a beginning we must try to draw her out. Oh, don't ask herquestions about her German sympathies, that's too clumsy! She'd seethrough that in a moment. Let's work the conversation round to militarymatters and munitions, and get the girls to tell all they've heard ofnews from the front, and watch whether Norty isn't just snapping it up. "

"Wouldn't that be letting her get to know too much?"

"Well, one's obliged to risk something. If you're over-cautious younever get anything done. "

"Yes, I suppose you're right. We'll try on Sunday evening after supper. She always comes into the sitting-room for a chat with us then. "

Chrissie seemed to have taken up the matter with the greatest keenness. She was evidently in dead earnest about it. Marjorie was agreeablysurprised, and on the strength of this mutual confidence her oldaffection for her chum revived. Once more they went about the school armin arm, sat next to each other at tea, and wrote each other privatelittle notes. St. Elgiva's smiled again, but the girls by this time wereaccustomed to Marjorie's very impulsive and rather erratic ways, and didnot take her infatuations too seriously. 

"Quarrelled with Winifrede?" enquired Patricia humorously. "I thoughtyou were worshipping at her shrine at present. "

"Marjorie is a pagan, " laughed Rose Butler. "She bows down to manyidols. "

"I should call Winifrede a more desirable goddess than Chrissie, " addedIrene. 

"Go on, tease me as much as you like!" declared Marjorie. "You're onlyjealous. "

"Jealous! Jealous of Chrissie Lang! Great Minerva!" ejaculated Ireneeloquently. 

It was about two days after this that Marjorie, passing down thecorridor from Dormitory No. 9, came suddenly upon Chrissie issuing outof Miss Norton's bedroom. Marjorie stopped in supreme amazement. Mistresses' rooms were sacred at Brackenfield, unless by specialinvitation. Miss Norton was not disposed to intimacy, and it was not inthe knowledge of St. Elgiva's that she had admitted any girl into herprivate sanctum. 

"Did Norty send for you there?" questioned Marjorie in a whisper. 

"Sh, sh!" replied Chrissie. "Come back with me into the dormitory. "

She drew her friend inside her cubicle, looked round the room to seethat they were alone, then patted her pocket and smiled. 

"I've got them!" she triumphed. 

"Got what?"

"Norty's foreign letters, or some of them at any rate. "

"Chris! You never went into her room and took them?"

"That's exactly what I did, old sport! I'm going to look them over, andput them back before she finds out. "

Marjorie gasped. 

"But look here! It doesn't seem quite--straight, somehow. "

"Can't be helped in the circumstances, " replied Chrissie laconically. "We've got to outwit her somehow. It's a case of 'Greek meets Greek'. How else are we to find out anything?"

"I don't know. "

The idea of entering a teacher's bedroom and taking and reading herprivate correspondence was intensely repugnant to Marjorie. Her facebetrayed her feeling. 

"You'd never do on secret service, " said Chrissie, shaking her head. "Ithought you were patriotic enough to dare anything for the sake of yourcountry. Go downstairs if you don't want to see these letters. I'll readthem by myself. "

"I wish you'd put them back at once, " urged Marjorie. 

"Not till I know what's in them. Here comes Betty! I'm going to scoot. Ta-ta!"

Marjorie followed Chrissie downstairs, but did not join her in thegarden. She was not happy about this latest development of affairs. Itwas one thing to watch Miss Norton by legitimate methods, and quiteanother to try underhand ways. She wondered whether the service of hercountry really demanded such a sacrifice of honour. For a moment shefelt desperately tempted to run to Winifrede's study, explain the wholesituation, and ask her opinion, but she remembered that Winifrede wouldbe writing her weekly essay and would hardly welcome a visitor, or havetime to listen to the rather lengthy story which she must pour out. After all, it was an affair that her own conscience must decide. Shepurposely avoided Chrissie all the evening, while she thought it over. Having slept upon the question, she came to a decision. 

"Chris, " she said, catching her chum privately after breakfast, "I votewe don't do any more sneaking tricks. "

"Sneaking?" Chrissie's eyebrows went up high. 

"Yes, you know what I mean. We'll keep a look-out on Norty, but no moretaking of letters, please. "

Chrissie gazed at her chum with rather an inscrutable expression. 

"Right oh! Just as you like. We'll shelve that part of the informationbureau and work on other lines. I'm quite agreeable. "

That particular day happened to be Miss Broadway's birthday. She livedat St. Elgiva's, so the girls determined to give a little jollificationthat evening in her honour. There would not be time for much in the wayof festivities, but there was a free half-hour after supper, when theycould have the recreation room to themselves. It was to be a privateaffair for their own hostel, and only the mistresses who resided therewere invited. The entertainment was to consist of a magic lantern show. Photography had raged lately as a hobby among the Intermediates, andseveral of them had taken to making lantern slides. Patricia--anindulged only daughter--had persuaded her father to buy her a lantern;it had just arrived, and she was extremely anxious to test itscapabilities. She put up her screen and made her preparations during theafternoon, so that when supper was over all was in readiness, and heraudience took their places without delay. 

Miss Norton, Miss Parker, and Miss Broadway had specially reservedchairs in the front row, and the girls filled up the rest of the room. Some of them, to obtain a better view, squatted on the floor in front ofthe chairs, Chrissie and Marjorie being among the number. The lanternworked beautifully; Patricia made a capital little operator, and managedto focus very clearly. She first of all showed sets of bought slides, scenes from Italy and Switzerland and photos of various regiments, andwhen these were finished she turned to the slides which she and herchums had made themselves. There were capital pictures of the school, the cricket eleven, the hockey team, the quadrangle in the snow, thegardening assistants, and the tennis champions. They were received withmuch applause, Miss Norton in particular congratulating the amateurphotographers on their successful efforts. 

"We haven't had time to do very many, " said Patricia, "but I've got justa few more here. This is a good clear one, and interesting too. "

The picture which she now threw on the screen showed the road leading toWhitecliffe, up which a contingent of German prisoners appeared, guarded by soldiers. In the foreground was a long perambulator holding alittle boy propped up with pillows. It was an excellent photograph, forthe contingent had been caught just at the right moment as it faced thecamera; both prisoners and guards had come out with remarkableclearness. Something impelled Marjorie to glance at Miss Norton. Thehouse mistress was gazing at the picture with an expression of amazedhorror in her eyes. She turned quickly to Irene, who was squatting ather feet, and asked: "Who took that photo?"

"Marjorie Anderson took it, but I made the lantern slide from her film, "answered Irene proudly. "We think it's quite one of the best. "

"I suppose it was just a snapshot as she stood by the roadside?"

"Yes; it was a very lucky one, wasn't it?"

Marjorie, sitting close by, nudged Chrissie, but did not speak. MissNorton made no further remark, and Patricia put on the next slide. Afterwards, in the corridor, Marjorie whispered excitedly to Chrissie:

"Did you notice Norty's face? She was quite upset by my photo of theGerman prisoners. "

"Yes, I noticed her. "

"Significant, wasn't it?"

"Rather!"

"It's like the play scene in _Hamlet_. It seems to me she gave herselfaway. "

"She was taken unawares. "

"Just as the King and Queen were. You remember how Hamlet watched themall the time? What's happened to-night only confirms our suspicions. "

"It does indeed!"

"Perhaps some of her German friends were among the prisoners and sherecognized them. "

"It's possible. "

"Well, it evidently gave her a great shock, and that would account forit. "

"The plot thickens!"

"It thickens very much indeed. I'm not sure if we oughtn't to tellsomebody. "

"No, no! Not on any account!"

"You think so?"

"I'm certain of it. You'll spoil everything if you go blabbing!"

"Well, I won't, if you'd rather not; but I'm just longing to askWinifrede what she thinks about it all, " said Marjorie regretfully. 

CHAPTER XXIII

On Leave

The next great event on the horizon of Marjorie and Dona was that Larrywas transferred from the London Military Hospital to the Whitecliffe RedCross Hospital. Mrs. Anderson came to The Tamarisks for a night as soonas he was installed, and paid a flying visit to Brackenfield to see herdaughters, and beg an exeat, that she might take them to spend a briefhalf-hour with their brother. It was neither a Wednesday nor a Saturday, but in the circumstances Mrs. Morrison granted permission; and thegirls, rejoicing at missing a music lesson and a chemistry lecture, wereborne away by their mother for the afternoon. As they expected, theyfound Larry established as prime pet of the hospital. He was anattractive lad, already a favourite with his cousin Elaine, and hishandsome boyish face and prepossessing manners soon won him the goodgraces of the other V. A. D. 's. 

"I'm having the time of my life!" he assured his family. "I shan't wantto go away. They certainly know how to take care of a fellow here. Afterthe trenches it's just heaven!"

"It was hard luck to be wounded when you'd only been at the front threeweeks!" sympathized Dona. 

"Never mind! I got on the Roll of Honour before my nineteenth birthday!"triumphed Larry. "And I'll go back and have another shot before I'm mucholder. "

"I wish the military age were twenty-one!" sighed Mrs. Anderson. 

"And I wished it were fifteen when the war started, " laughed Larry. "Never mind, little Muvviekins! Peter and Cyril are kids enough yet; youcan tie them to your apron-strings for a while. "

"I shall go home feeling quite happy at leaving you in such good hands, "declared his mother. "I know you'll be well nursed here. "

Events seemed to crowd upon one another, for hardly was Larry settled inthe Red Cross Hospital than Leonard got leave, and, after first goinghome, came for a hurried visit to The Tamarisks in order to see hisbrother. Mrs. Anderson wrote to Mrs. Morrison asking special permissionfor the girls to be allowed an afternoon with their brother, whom theyhad not seen for a year, and again the Principal relaxed her rule intheir favour. Marjorie, nearly wild with excitement, came flying intothe sitting-room at St. Elgiva's to tell the news to her friends. 

"Another exeat! You lucky thing!" exclaimed Betty enviously. "Why can'tmy brother come to Whitecliffe?"

"Can't you bring him to school and introduce him to us?" suggestedIrene. 

"Or take some of us out with you?" amended Sylvia. 

"We're simply dying to meet him!" declared Patricia. 

"He has only the one afternoon to spare, " replied Marjorie, "and haspromised to take just Dona and me out to tea at a café, though I don'tmind betting Elaine goes too. I wish I could bring him to school andintroduce him. The Empress is fearfully mean about asking brothers. Brackenfield might be a convent. "

Chrissie also seemed tremendously interested in Leonard's arrival. Shewalked round the quad with Marjorie. 

"How glorious to have a brother home from the front!" she saidwistfully. "If he were mine, I'd nearly worship him. There'd be suchheaps of things I'd want to ask him, too. I'd like to hear all about atank. "

"You've seen them on the cinema. "

"But only the outside, of course. I want to know exactly how they work. Don't laugh. Why shouldn't I? Surely every patriotic girl ought to bekeen on everything in connection with the war. I wish you'd ask him. "

"Why, I will if you like. "

"You won't forget?"

"I'll try not. "

"And there's a new shell we've just been making. I wonder how itanswers. I heard we've some new guns too. Would your brother know?"

"Really, I shall never remember all this! Pity you can't come with usand ask him for yourself. "

"I believe I could get an exeat----" began Chrissie eagerly. 

"I'm sure you couldn't!" snapped Marjorie. "Dona and I are going just byourselves. "

The sisters spent a somewhat disturbed morning. It was difficult toconcentrate their minds on lessons when such a delightful outing awaitedthem in the afternoon. Immediately after dinner they rushed to theirdormitories to don their best dresses in honour of Leonard. They knew hewould not care to take out two Cinderellas, so they made carefultoilets. Marjorie, in front of her looking-glass, replaited her hair, and tied it with her broadest ribbon, chattering all the while toChrissie, who sat on the bed in her own cubicle. 

"Leonard's an old dandy. At least, he was a year ago--the war may havechanged him. He used to be most fearfully particular, and notice whatgirls had on. I remember how savage he was with Nora once for going tochurch in her old hat, and it was such a wet day, too; she didn't wantto spoil her new one. He always kept his trousers in stretchers, and hisboots had to be polished ever so--Chrissie, you're not listening. Actually opening letters! You mean to say you've not read them yet, andyou got them this morning!"

"I hadn't time, " said Chrissie, rather abstractedly. She was drawingpound notes out of the envelope. 

"Sophonisba! What a lot of money!" exclaimed Marjorie. "It isn't yourbirthday?"

"No. This is to take me home, of course. "

"It won't cost you all that, surely! Doesn't your mother send yourrailway fare to Mrs. Morrison? Mine always does. "

"My mother wouldn't like me to be short of money on the journey, "remarked Chrissie serenely, locking up the notes in her littlejewel-box. 

At precisely half-past two the melancholy Hodson arrived at the school, and escorted Marjorie and Dona to The Tamarisks. Here they foundLeonard, and it was a very happy meeting between the brother andsisters. 

"Leonard shall take you into the town, " said Aunt Ellinor. "I knowyou'll like to have him to yourselves for an hour. No, Elaine can't go. She's on extra duty at the Red Cross this afternoon. "

"I have to be back in the ward by half-past three, " smiled Elaine. "Yes, I'll give your love to Larry. I'm sorry you can't see him to-day, butthe Commandant's a little strict about visiting. "

"We'll concentrate on Leonard, " declared the girls. 

It was an immense satisfaction to them to trot off one on each side oftheir soldier brother. They felt very proud of him as they walked alongthe Promenade, and noticed people glance approvingly at thegood-looking young officer. After going on the pier and doing the usualsights of Whitecliffe, Leonard took them to the Cliff Hotel and orderedtea on the terrace. Dona and Marjorie were all smiles. This was farsuperior to a café. The terrace was delightful, with geraniums andoleanders in large pots, and a beautiful view over the sea. They had alittle table to themselves at the end, underneath a tree. It wassomething to have a brother home from the front. 

"Tell us everything you do out in France, " begged Dona. 

"You wouldn't like to hear everything, Baby Bunting, " returned Leonardgravely. "It's not fit for your ears. Be glad that you in England don'tsee anything of the war. There's one little incident I can tell you, though. We'd marched many miles through the night over appalling groundunder scattered shell-fire, and were only in our place of attack half anhour before the advance started up the ridge. That night march is astory in itself, but that's not what I'm going to tell you now. We drewclose to one of the blockhouses, and the sound of our cheering must havebeen heard by the Germans inside those concrete walls. The barrage hadjust passed, and its line of fire, volcanic in its fury, went travellingahead. Suddenly out of the blockhouse a dozen men or so came running, and we shortened our bayonets. From the centre of the group a voiceshouted out in English: 'I'm a Warwickshire man, don't shoot! I'm anEnglishman!' The man who called had his hands up in sign of surrender, like the German soldiers. 

"'It's a spy!' said one of our men. 'Kill the blighter!'

"The voice again rang out: 'I'm English!'

"And he was English, too. It was a man of a Warwickshire regiment, whohad been captured on patrol some days before. The Germans had taken himinto their blockhouse--and because of our gun-fire they could not getout of it--and kept him there. He was well treated, and his captorsshared their food with him, but the awful moment came for him when thedrum-fire passed, and he knew that unless he held his hands high hewould be killed by our own troops. "

"How awful!" shivered Dona. 

"Tell us some more tales about the war, " begged Marjorie. 

"I might have been killed one evening, " said Leonard, "if it hadn't beenfor a friend. We were carrying dispatches, and fell into an ambush. Iowe it to Winkles that I'm here to-day. He fought like a demon. I neversaw such a fellow!"

"Who's Winkles?"

"Oh, an awfully good chap, and so humorous! I've never once seen himdown. I've got his photo somewhere, I believe. I took a snapshot of himonce. "

"Oh, do show it to us!"

Leonard searched through his pockets, and after turning out anassortment of letters and papers produced a small photograph forinspection. The girls bumped their heads together in their eagerness tolook at it. It had been taken in camp, and represented the young soldierin the act of raising a can of coffee to his lips. There was a pleasedsmile on the whimsical face, and a twinkle in the dark eyes. Marjoriecaught her breath. 

"Why, why!" she gasped. "It's surely Private Preston!"

"That's his name right enough. We call him Winkles, though. He's alieutenant now, by the way--got his commission just lately. "

"But--I thought he was killed?"

"Not a bit of it! I heard from him yesterday. "

"He was in the Roll of Honour, " urged Marjorie, still unable to believe. 

"No, he wasn't. That was his brother Henry, who was in the sameregiment--a nice chap, though nothing to Winkles. "

Marjorie sat in a state of almost dazed incomprehension. A black cloudseemed suddenly to have rolled away from her, and she had not yet hadtime to readjust herself. As in a dream she listened to Dona'sexplanation. 

"He was in the Red Cross Hospital here, and we saw him when Elaine tookus to the Christmas tree. "

"Was it Whitecliffe? I knew he'd been in a Red Cross Hospital, but neverheard which one, " commented Leonard. 

"He was going on to a convalescent home, " continued Dona. 

"He came back to the front before he was really fit, " said Leonard. "The poor chap had had influenza, but he was so afraid of being thoughta shirker that he made a push to go. He was laid up with a touch ofpneumonia, I remember, a week after he rejoined. "

"Will he get leave again?" faltered Marjorie. 

"Yes, next month, he hopes. They don't live such a very long way fromSilverwood, and he said he'd try to go over and see the Mater. She'dgive him a welcome, I know. "

"Rather!" agreed the girls. 

"We shall be at home in August, " added Dona. 

Marjorie, however, said nothing. There are some joys that it is quiteimpossible to express to outsiders. 

"I'm glad they've made him a lieutenant, " she said to herself. 

CHAPTER XXIV

The Royal George

When Leonard brought Marjorie and Dona back to The Tamarisks there wasstill one more golden half-hour before they need return to school. AuntEllinor proposed tennis, and suggested that her nephew should play hissisters while she sat and acted umpire. The game went fairly evenly, forLeonard was agile and equal to holding his own, though it was oneagainst two. They were at "forty all" when Dona made a rather brilliantstroke. Leonard sprang across the court in a frantic effort to get theball, missed it, slipped on the grass, and fell. The girls laughed. 

"You've been a little too clever for once, " called Dona. "That's ourgame!"

"Get up, you old slacker!" said Marjorie. 

But Leonard did not get up. He stayed where he was on the lawn, lookingvery white. Mrs. Trafford ran to him in alarm. 

"What's the matter?" she cried. 

"I believe I've broken my ankle--I felt it snap. "

The accident was so totally unexpected that for a moment everyone wasstaggered, then, recovering her presence of mind, Aunt Ellinor, withMarjorie and Dona's help, applied first aid, while Hodson hurried intoWhitecliffe to fetch the doctor. He was fortunately at home, and came atonce. He helped to carry Leonard into the house, set the broken bone, and settled him in bed. 

"You'll have to stay where you are for a while, " he assured him. "There'll be no walking on that foot yet. It'll extend your leave, atany rate. "

"I can't imagine how I was such an idiot as to do it, " mourned Leonard. "I just seemed to trip, and couldn't save myself. "

"We'll borrow you some crutches from the Red Cross when you're wellenough to use them, " laughed the doctor. "You'll be well looked afterhere. Miss Elaine is one of my best nurses at the hospital. "

Marjorie and Dona arrived back at school late for Preparation, but weregraciously forgiven by Mrs. Morrison when they explained the unfortunatereason of their delay. 

"It's ripping to have both Leonard and Larry at Whitecliffe, " said Donato Marjorie in private. 

"Rather! I think I know one person who won't altogether regret theaccident. "

"Leonard?"

"Yes, Leonard certainly; but somebody else too. "

"I know--Elaine. "

"She'll have the time of her life nursing him. "

"And he'll have the time of his life being nursed by Elaine, " laughedDona. 

It was now getting very near the end of the term, and each hostel, according to its usual custom, was beginning to devise some form ofentertainment to which it could invite the rest of the school. Aftermuch consultation, St. Elgiva's decided on charades. A cast was chosenconsisting of eight girls who were considered to act best, Betty, Chrissie, and Marjorie being among the number. No parts were to belearnt, but a general outline of each charade was to be arrangedbeforehand, the performers filling in impromptu dialogue as they wentalong. To hit on a suitable word, and think out some telling scenes, nowoccupied the wits of each of the chosen eight. They compared notesconstantly; indeed, when any happy thought occurred to one, she madehaste to communicate it to the others. 

An inspiration came suddenly to Marjorie during cricket, and when thegame was over she rushed away to unburden herself of it. She had thoughtseveral of the performers might be in the recreation room, but she foundnobody there except Chrissie, who sat writing at the table. 

"I've a lovely idea, Chris!" she began. "You know that word we chose, 'cough', 'fee'--'coffee'; well, we'll have the first syllable in a RedCross Hospital, and the second in an employment bureau, and a girl canask if there's any fee to pay; and the whole word can be a scene in adrawing-room. Chrissie, do stop writing and listen!"

Her chum shut up her geometry textbook rather reluctantly. She wasputting in extra work before the exams, and was loath to be interrupted. She kept on drawing angles on her blotting-paper almost automatically. 

"They'd be ripping if we could get the right properties, " she agreed. "Could we manage beds enough to look like a hospital? Yes, those smallforms would do, I dare say. The employment bureau will be easy enough. The drawing-room scene would be no end, if we could make it up-to-date. I ought to be an officer home on leave, and you're my long-lost love, and we have a dramatic meeting over the coffee cups!"

"Gorgeous! Oh, we must do it! Shall I droop tenderly into your arms?What shall I wear?"

"Some outdoor costume, with a picturesque hat. I must have a uniform, ofcourse. "

"A brown waterproof with a leather belt?"

Chrissie pulled a face. 

"I hate these make-ups out of girls' clothes! I'd like a real genuineuniform to do the thing properly. "

"But we couldn't get one!"

"Yes, we could. It's your exeat on Wednesday, and you might borrow yourbrother's. He's in bed, and can't wear it. "

"What a ripping notion!" gasped Marjorie. "But I couldn't carry a greatparcel back to school. Norty'd see it, and make one of her stupidfusses. "

"We must smuggle it, then. Look here, when you go to your aunt's makethe clothes into a parcel and leave it just inside the gate. I've afriend at Whitecliffe, and I'll manage to write to her and ask her tocall and take it, and drop it over the wall at Brackenfield for me. "

"Won't Norty ask where we got it, when she sees you wearing it?"

"She might be nasty about it beforehand, but I don't believe she'd sayanything on the evening, especially if the charade goes off well. It'sworth risking. "

"You'd look ripping in Leonard's uniform! Of course it would be toobig. "

"That wouldn't matter. Will you get it for me?"

"Right oh!"

"Good. Then I'll write to my friend. "

"You're writing now!" chuckled Marjorie, for Chrissie had beenscribbling idly on the blotting-paper while she talked. "Look whatyou've put, you goose! 'Christine Lange!' Don't you know how to spellyour own name? I didn't think it had an _e_ at the end of it!"

Chrissie flushed scarlet. For a moment she looked overwhelmed withconfusion; then, recovering herself, she forced a laugh. 

"What an idiot I am! I can't imagine why I should stick on an extra _e_. Lang is a good old Scottish name. "

"Are you related to Andrew Lang, the famous author?"

"I believe there's a family connection. "

The charades were to be held on the evening of the next Wednesday, aftersupper, which was fixed half an hour earlier to allow sufficient timefor the festivities afterwards. That afternoon would be Marjorie's andDona's last exeat before the holidays, and they were determined to makethe most of it. They would, of course, visit Leonard and Larry, and theyalso wished if possible to say good-bye to Eric. They had begged Elaineto leave a note at the kiosk, asking him to be waiting at their oldtrysting-place on the cliffs at five o'clock, and they meant to take himsome last little presents. If they did not see him to-day it would bethe end of September before they could meet again. 

"He'll miss the fairy ladies when we've gone home, " said Dona. "Sweetdarling! I wish we could take him with us!"

"I wonder if he ever goes away?" speculated Marjorie. 

"I shouldn't think he'd be strong enough to travel. "

When the girls arrived at The Tamarisks they found Leonard installed inbed, a remarkably cheerful invalid, and apparently not fretting over hisenforced period of rest. 

"I've got a little Red Cross Hospital here all to myself, " he informedhis sisters. "A jolly nice one, too! I can thoroughly recommend it. Ishan't want to budge. "

"Then they'll send an army doctor down to examine you for shirking, "laughed Marjorie. 

"I can't hop back to the front on one leg, " objected Leonard. 

Elaine was head nurse in the afternoons, an arrangement which seemed tobe appreciated equally by herself and the patient. 

"I'd run up with you to the Red Cross Hospital to see Larry, " sheassured Marjorie and Dona, "but I oughtn't to leave Leonard. Hodsonshall take you, and go on with you to the cove afterwards. Give my loveto Eric. I hope the dear little fellow is better. I bought the thingsfor him, as you asked me. They're on the table in the hall. We'll havetea in Leonard's room before you start. "

Under a pretence of inspecting Eric's presents, Marjorie ran downstairs. She wanted somehow to get hold of Leonard's uniform, and she was afraidthat if she mentioned it, Elaine, in her capacity of nurse, would sayno. 

"I shan't ask, " decided Marjorie. "Elaine is a little 'bossy', andinclined to appropriate Leonard all to herself at present. Surely hisown sister can borrow his uniform. I know it's in the dressing-room. Icould see it, and I got up and shut the door on purpose. I'll go roundby the other door and take it. "

The deed was quickly done. Leonard's suit-case was lying open on thefloor, and she packed in it what she wanted, not without tremors lestElaine should come in suddenly from the bedroom and catch her. She couldhear nurse and invalid laughing together. Bag in hand, she hurrieddownstairs and out into the garden. Down by the gate a woman was alreadyhanging about waiting. It would be the work of a moment to give it toher. But Marjorie had not calculated upon Dona. That placid young personusually accepted whatever her elder sister thought fit to do. On thisoccasion she interfered. 

"What are you doing with Leonard's suit-case?" she asked. 

Marjorie hastily explained. 

"Don't, " begged Dona promptly. "Leonard will be fearfully savage aboutit. How are you going to get his things back to him?"

"I don't know, " stammered Marjorie. She had, indeed, never thought aboutit. 

"I've been watching that woman, " urged Dona, "and I don't like her. Sheasked me if this were 'The Tamarisks', and she speaks quite brokenEnglish. You mustn't give her Leonard's uniform. "

"But I promised to get it for Chrissie to act in. "

"Marjorie, I tell you I don't trust Chrissie. "

The woman, seeing the two girls, came inside the gate, and advancedsmilingly towards them. Marjorie, annoyed at Dona's interference, andanxious to have her own way, greeted the stranger effusively. 

"Have you come for the bag? For Miss Lang? Thanks so much. Here it is!"

Then for once in her life Dona asserted herself. 

"No, it isn't!" she snapped, and, snatching the bag from her sister'shand, she rushed with it into the house. 

Marjorie followed in a towering passion, but her remonstrances wereuseless. Dona, when she once took an idea into her head, was the mostobstinate person in the world. 

"Leonard's things are back in the dressing-room, and I've opened thedoor wide into his bedroom, " she announced doggedly. "If you want to getthem you'll have to take them from under Elaine's nose. "

Full of wrath, Marjorie had nevertheless to make the best of it. Thewoman had vanished from the garden, and Elaine was calling to them thattea was ready in Leonard's bedroom. The invalid had a splendid appetite, and, as his nurse did not consider that he ought to be rationed, thehome-made war buns disappeared rapidly. 

"It's top-hole picnicking here with you girls, " he announced. "Wouldn'tsome of our fellows at the front be green with envy if they only knew!"

Marjorie was distant with Dona all the way to the Red Cross Hospital, but recovered her temper during the ten minutes spent with Larry. Theywere not allowed to stay long, as it was out of visiting hours, thoughElaine had obtained special permission from the Commandant for them tocall and say good-bye to him. Still laughing at his absurd jokes, theyrejoined Hodson, and set off along the road over the moor. As theyneared the cove they looked out anxiously to see if Eric were at theusual trysting-place, but there was no sign of him to-day. They sat downand waited, thinking that the long perambulator had probably beenwheeled into Whitecliffe, and had not yet returned. In about ten minutesLizzie came hurrying up alone. 

"I've run all the way!" she panted. "He got your letter, did Eric, andhe was that set on coming, but he's very ill to-day and must stop inbed. He's just fretting his heart out because he can't say good-bye toyou. He'll say nothing all the time but 'I want my fairy ladies--I wantmy fairy ladies!' His ma said she wondered if you'd mind coming in for aminute just to see him. It's not far. It would soothe him downwonderful. "

"Why, of course we'll go, " exclaimed the girls with enthusiasm. "Poorlittle chap! What a shame he's ill!"

"I hope it's nothing infectious?" objected Hodson, mindful of herduties. 

"Oh no! It's his heart, " answered Lizzie. "He's got a lot of differentthings the matter with him, and has had ever so many doctors, " she addedalmost proudly. 

She led the way briskly to the little village of Sandside. Where didEric live, the girls were asking themselves. They had always wonderedwhere his home could be. To their amazement Lizzie stopped at the "RoyalGeorge" inn, and motioned them to enter. Hodson demurred. She was anardent teetotaller, and also she doubted if Mrs. Trafford would approveof her nieces visiting at a third-rate public-house. 

"Wait for us outside, Hodson, " said Marjorie rather peremptorily. 

"I'll go into the post office, " she agreed unwillingly. "You won't belong, will you, miss?"

The passage inside the inn was dark, and the stairs were steep, and asmell of stale beer pervaded the air. It seemed a strange place for sucha lovely flower as Eric to be growing. Lizzie went first to show theway. She stopped with her hand on the latch of the door. 

"His ma's had to go and serve in the bar, " she explained, "but hisaunt's just come and is sitting with him. "

Dona and Marjorie entered a small low bedroom, clean enough, thoughrather faded and shabby. In a cot bed by the window lay Eric, white ashis pillow, a frail ethereal being all dark eyes and shining goldencurls. He stretched out two feeble little arms in welcome. 

"Oh, my fairy ladies! Have you really come?" he cried eagerly. 

It was only when they had both flown to him and kissed him that thegirls had time to notice the figure that sat by his bedside--a figurethat, with red spots of consternation on its cheeks, rose hastily fromits seat. 

"Miss Norton!" they gasped, both together. 

The mistress recovered herself with an effort. 

"Sit down, Dona and Marjorie, " she said with apparent calm, placing twochairs for them. "I did not know you were Eric's fairy ladies. It isvery kind of you to come and see him. "

"This is Titania, " said the little fellow proudly, snuggling his handinto his aunt's. "She knows more fairy tales than there are in all thebooks. You never heard such lovely tales as she can tell. Another, please, Titania!"

"Not now, darling. "

"Please, please! The one about the moon maiden and the stars. "

The dark eyes were pleading, and the small mouth quivered. The childlooked too ill to be reasoned with. 

"Don't mind us, " blurted out Marjorie, with a catch in her voice. Donawas blinking some tear-drops out of her eyes. 

Then a wonderful thing happened, for Miss Norton, beforetime the cold, self-contained, strict house mistress, dropped her mask of reserve, and, throwing a tender arm round Eric, began a tale of elves and fairies. Shetold it well, too, with a pretty play of fancy, and an understanding ofa child's mind. He listened with supreme satisfaction. 

"Isn't it lovely?" he said, turning in triumph to the girls when thestory was finished. 

"We must trot now, darling, " said his aunt, laying him gently back onthe pillow. "What? More presents? You lucky boy! Suppose you open themafter we've gone. You'll be such a tired childie if you get too excited. I'll send Lizzie up to you. Say good-bye to your fairy ladies. "

"Good-bye, darling Bluebell! Good-bye, darling Silverstar! When am Igoing to see you again?"

Ah, when indeed? thought Dona and Marjorie, as they walked down thesteep dark stairs of the little inn. 

CHAPTER XXV

Charades

Hodson was waiting in the road when they came out. Miss Norton spoke toher kindly. 

"We need not trouble you to take the young ladies back to Brackenfield, they can return with me across the moor, " she said. "I dare say you areanxious to get home to The Tamarisks. "

"Yes, thank you, m'm, it's got rather late, " answered Hodson gratefully, setting off at once along the Whitecliffe Road. 

The girls and Miss Norton took a short cut across the moor. They walkedon for a while in silence. Then the mistress said:

"I didn't know it was you two who have been so kind to Eric. I shouldlike to explain about him, and then you'll understand. My eldest brothermarried very much beneath him. He died when Eric was a year old, and hiswife married again--a man in her own station, who is now keeping the'Royal George'. I can't bear to think of Eric being brought up in suchsurroundings, but I have no power to take him away; his mother andstep-father claim him. I had planned that when he is a little older Iwould try to persuade them to let me send him to a good preparatoryschool, but now"--her voice broke--"it is not a question of education, but whether he will grow up at all. I am writing for a specialist tocome and see him next week. I won't give up hope. He's the only boy leftin our family. Both my other brothers were killed at the beginning ofthe war. " She paused for a moment, and then went on. "I'm sure you'llunderstand that I did not want anybody at Brackenfield to know that myrelations live at a village inn. I have not spoken of it to Mrs. Morrison. May I ask you both to keep my secret and not to mention thematter at school?"

"We won't tell a soul, Miss Norton, " the girls assured her. 

"Thank you both for your kindness to Eric, " continued the housemistress. "You have made his little life very bright lately. I needhardly tell you how dear he is to me. "

"He's the most perfect darling we've ever met, " said Dona. 

After that they walked on again without speaking. All three were busywith their own thoughts. Marjorie's brain was in a whirl. She was tryingto readjust her mental attitude. Miss Norton! Miss Norton, whom she hadmistrusted and suspected as a spy, was Eric's idolized aunt, and hadgone to the Royal George on no treacherous errand, but to tell fairytales to an invalid child! When the cold scholastic manner was droppedshe had caught a glimpse of a beautiful and tender side of themistress's nature. She would never forget Miss Norton's face as sheheld the little fellow in her arms and kissed him good-bye. 

"I'm afraid I've utterly misjudged her!" decided Marjorie. "I see nowwhy she was so upset about that lantern slide I took. It was becauseEric was in it. It had nothing to do with the German prisoners. Afterall, anybody can receive foreign letters if they've relations abroad, and perhaps she's going to stay with friends in the Isle of Wight. Asfor those Belgians in the hotel, perhaps they were genuine ones. We hadBelgian guests ourselves at the beginning of the war, and couldn'tunderstand a word of the Flemish they talked. "

Marjorie ran upstairs to her dormitory as soon as she reached St. Elgiva's, and found Chrissie waiting for her there. 

"Where's the uniform?" demanded her chum imperatively. 

"The uniform? I didn't get it after all, " replied Marjorie a littlevaguely. The unexpected episode of Eric and Miss Norton had temporarilydriven the former matter from her mind. 

"You--didn't--get it?"

Chrissie said the words very slowly. 

"No. I'm sorry, but it couldn't be helped. Elaine was there--and Donawouldn't let me--so----"

"You sneak!" blazed Chrissie passionately. "You promised! You promisedfaithfully! And this is how you treat me! Oh, I hate you! I hate you!What shall I do? Can't you go back for it? send for it? I tell you, Imust have it!"

"How can I go back for it or send for it?" retorted Marjorie, amazed atsuch an outburst on the part of her chum. "I'm sorry; but, after all, itwould have been miles too big for you, and you'll really do the partquite as well in my mackintosh, with Irene's broad leather belt. There'sa piece of brown calico we can cut into strips and make puttees for you. You'll look very nice, I'm sure. "

Chrissie hardly seemed to be listening. She was sitting on her bedrocking herself to and fro in the greatest emotion. When Marjorie laid ahand on her arm she flung her off passionately. She had never exhibitedsuch temper before, and Marjorie was frankly surprised. The occasion didnot seem to justify it. The disappointment about the costume could notsurely be so very keen. None of the girls had meant to dress up to anygreat extent for the charades. 

"Chrissie, don't be an idiot!"

There was no answer. 

"What are you making such a hullabaloo about? You're the limit thisevening. Do, for goodness' sake, brace up!"

"Let me alone!" snapped Chrissie. "You called yourself my friend, andyou wouldn't do what I asked you. I've done with you now. Don't speak tome again. "

"Bow-wow! Pitch it a little stronger. I'll go away till you've got overyour tantrums. It's what used to be called katawampus when I was small, and they generally spanked me for it. "

"Can't you go?" thundered Chrissie. 

Thoroughly angry with her chum, Marjorie went. She wondered how theywere going to act a love scene together that evening. The soft nothingsthey had rehearsed would seem very hollow after the mutual reproachesthey had just exchanged. 

Chrissie was not in her usual place at supper-time. 

"Sulking!" thought Marjorie. "I suppose she doesn't want to sit next tome. Well, she's punishing herself far more than me, silly girl! She mustbe dreadfully hungry, unless she's shamming a headache, and gettingNurse to give her bread and milk in the ambulance room. Perhaps she'sbusy with her costume. She never liked the idea of using my mackintoshfor a uniform. I expect she's thought of something else. "

Marjorie's anger, always hot while it lasted, but short-lived, wasbeginning to cool down. When supper was over she ran to look for herchum, but could not find her anywhere. There was no time for a longsearch, as the charades were to begin almost at once, and the St. Elgiva's girls were already preparing the stage for the first scene. Marjorie was seized upon by Patricia and borne off to arrange screensand furniture. 

Punctual to a moment, the guests from the other hostels arrived and tooktheir seats as audience. The performers, in the little room behind theplatform, were breathlessly scuttling into their costumes, and alltalking at once. 

"Where's my hat?"

[Illustration: SHE STARED AT IT IN CONSTERNATION]

"Do button this at the back for me, please!"

"I can't find my boots!"

"Oh, bother, this skirt has no hooks!"

"Who's got the safety pins?"

"Be careful, you'll tear that lace!"

"I can't get into these shoes, they're too small!"

"I've grown out of this skirt since last theatricals. "

"It's miles too short!"

"Has anybody seen my belt?"

Each one was so occupied in finishing her own hasty toilet that shecould not give much thought to the others, and it was only when all wereready that Patricia asked:

"Where's Chrissie?"

The girls looked round in consternation. She was certainly not in thedressing-room. Betty ran on to the platform, drew aside the curtain alittle, and, beckoning Annie Turner from among the audience, sent herand six other Intermediates in search of the missing performer. Theyreturned in a few minutes to say that they could not find her. Marjorie, meantime, had explained the cause of the quarrel. 

"It's sickening!" raged Betty. "For her to go and spoil the whole thing, just out of temper! I'd like to shake her!"

"Everybody's waiting for us to begin!" fluttered Rose. 

"We won't wait!" declared Patricia. "Let us take the second charadefirst, Chrissie doesn't come on in that; and, Betty, you go and askAnnie to take Chrissie's place. She doesn't act badly, and there'd betime to tell her what to do. She must fetch a mackintosh. Here's mybroad belt and a soft felt hat. She can belong to an Australianregiment. "

Annie, summoned hastily behind the scenes, rose magnificently to theoccasion. Coached by Betty and Marjorie, she grasped the outline of thepart she must play with immediate comprehension. She donned themackintosh, buckled the belt over her shoulder, cocked the soft hat overone eye, practised a military stride and an affectionate embrace, anddeclared herself ready for action. She was only just in time. Theaudience was already applauding the end of the first charade. Theperformers came trooping back, flushed and excited, and much relieved tofind Annie so well prepared. 

"You mascot! You've saved our reputation!" exulted Patricia. 

"I'm never going to speak to Chrissie Lang again!" declared Betty. 

"It's abominable of her to let us down like this!" agreed Roseindignantly. 

Charade No. 2 went off with flying colours. Annie really played upmagnificently. None of the girls had known before that she could act sowell. She threw such fervour into her love-making that Mrs. Morrison, who was among the spectators, gave a warning cough, whereupon thegallant officer released his lady from his dramatic embrace, and, falling gracefully on one knee, bestowed a theatrical kiss upon herhand. The clapping from the girl portion of the audience was immense. 

"But where is Chrissie Lang?" asked everybody when the performance wasover. 

Nobody knew. Since Marjorie had parted from her in the dormitory she hadnot been seen. Neither teachers, girls, nurses, nor servants could giveany report of her. She simply seemed to have disappeared. Mrs. Morrisonquestioned everyone likely to know of her movements, but obtained nosatisfaction. Her cubicle in No. 9 Dormitory was unoccupied that night. At breakfast next morning the sole topic of conversation was: "What hasbecome of Chrissie Lang?"

"Mrs. Morrison thinks she must have run away, and she's telephoning tothe police, " Winifrede told Marjorie in confidence, when the latter, anxious to unburden herself, sought the head girl's study. "I can't seethat it's your fault in any way. Chrissie was absurd to show suchtemper, and it certainly was no reason for going off. I'm afraid theremust be something else at the bottom of it all. "

"But what?"

"Ah, that's just the question!"

Marjorie was very much upset and disturbed. She could scarcely keep herattention on her classes that morning. "Where has Chrissie gone, andwhy?" she kept asking herself. At dinner-time there was still no news ofthe truant. It was rumoured that Mrs. Morrison had telegraphed to Mrs. Lang, and had received no reply. The Principal looked anxious andworried. She felt responsible for the safety of her missing pupil. 

Early in the afternoon, Marjorie, wishing to be alone, took a strolldown the dingle. It was a favourite haunt of Chrissie's, who had oftensat reading beside the little brook. Marjorie walked to the very stonethat had been her usual seat. The sharpenings of a lead pencil werestill there, and lying at the edge of the water was a crumpled-up pieceof paper. Marjorie picked it up and smoothed it out. It was inChrissie's writing, and contained a list of details in connection withtanks and guns, also particulars of the Redferne munition works and theBelgian colony there, and several other pieces of information inconnection with the war. She stared at it in consternation. A suddenlight began to break in upon her mind. 

"Good heavens! Was it Chrissie after all who was the spy?" she choked. 

The idea seemed too horrible. It was she herself who had so readilyanswered all her chum's questions in regard to these things. In doingso, had she not been betraying her own country? Once the clue was given, all sorts of suspicious circumstances came rushing into her mind. Shewondered it had never struck her before to doubt her friend'spatriotism. Nearly distracted with the dreadful discovery, she hurriedaway to find Winifrede, and, showing her the paper, poured out herstory. Winifrede listened aghast. 

"I'm afraid it's only too true, Marjorie, " she said. "I've been talkingto Mrs. Morrison, and all sorts of queer things have come out aboutChrissie. It seems that a prisoner has escaped last night from theGerman camp, and they think it must have been her brother, and that shehelped him. Mrs. Morrison has had a long talk with a detective, and hesaid they telegraphed to Millgrove, where Chrissie's mother lives, andthe police there found the house shut up, and discovered that she is aGerman, and that her true name is Lange, not Lang. The detective saidthey have had Brackenfield under observation lately, for they suspectedthat somebody was heliographing messages with a mirror to the Germancamp. And who put that bicycle lamp in the Observatory window lastspring? We have certainly had a spy in our midst. We ought to take thispaper at once to Mrs. Morrison, and you must tell her all you know. "

Marjorie not only had a long talk with the Principal, but was alsoforced to undergo an examination by the detective, who asked her astring of questions, until he had extorted every possible detail thatshe could remember. 

"There's not a shadow of a doubt, " was his verdict. "There are plenty ofthese spies about the country. It's our business to look after them. Pity she got away so neatly. I'm afraid she and her precious brothermust have had a boat in waiting for them. It's abominable the amount ofcollusion there is with the enemy. They'd accomplices in Whitecliffe, nodoubt, if we could only get on the track of them. "

"I wish you had mentioned all this to me sooner, Marjorie, " said Mrs. Morrison. 

"I never suspected anything, " returned Marjorie, bursting into tears. 

The poor child was thoroughly unnerved by her interview with thedetective, and the Principal's reproach seemed to put the finishingtouch to the whole affair. In Winifrede's study afterwards she sobbedtill her eyes were red slits. 

"Never mind, " comforted Winifrede. "After all, things might have beenworse. Be thankful you didn't lend her your brother's uniform. It's asclear as daylight she didn't want it for charades. It would be easy fora German prisoner to escape disguised as a British officer. It mighthave got your brother into most serious trouble. "

"It was Dona who wouldn't let me take it, " choked Marjorie. "She said atthe time that she didn't trust Chrissie. I've been a blind idiot allalong!"

"We were none of us clever enough to find her out. "

It was just about a week after this that a letter arrived atBrackenfield, addressed to Marjorie in Chrissie's handwriting. It bore aDutch stamp and postmark, and had been opened by the censor. Mrs. Morrison perused it first in private, then, calling Marjorie to thestudy, handed it to her to read. It bore no address or date, and ranthus:--

 "MY DEAR MARJORIE, "This letter is to say a last good-bye to you, for you will never hear from me or of me again. By now you will have found out all. Believe me that what I did was not by my own wish. I hated and loathed it all the time, but I was forced by others to do it. I cannot tell you how wretched I was, and how I envied you, who had no dreadful secret to keep. We are going back to our own people" (here a portion of the letter was blackened by the censor). "It was all for his sake" (again a portion was erased). "I want to tell you, Marjorie, how I have loved you. You have been the one bright spot in my life, and I can never forget your kindness. I have your portrait inside my locket, and I shall wear it always, and have it buried with me in my coffin. Try to think of me as if I were already dead, and forgive me if you can. 

 "From your still loving friend, "CHRISSIE. "

Marjorie put down the letter with a shaking hand. 

"Is it right to forgive the enemies of our country?" she asked Mrs. Morrison. 

"When they are dead, " replied the Principal. 

Marjorie went out slowly from the study, and stood thinking for amoment. Then, going upstairs to her cubicle, she looked in her treasurebox, and found the little gold locket containing the portrait of herone-time friend. It had been a birthday present from Chrissie. Sherefrained from opening it, but, taking it down to the dingle, she flungit into the deepest pool in the brook. She walked back up the field witha feeling as though she had attended a funeral. 

Dona met her in the quadrangle. 

"I've just seen Miss Norton, " she confided. "The specialist came to lookat Eric yesterday, and he gives quite good hopes for him. He's to gointo a children's hospital under a very clever doctor, and be properlylooked after and dieted. His own mother lets him eat anything. Norty'ssimply beaming. She's to take him herself next week in a motorambulance. "

Marjorie heaved a great sigh of relief. The world seemed suddenly tohave brightened. Bygones must remain bygones. She had been imprudent, indeed, in supplying information, but it had been done in all innocence, and though she might blame her own folly, she could not condemn her actas unpatriotic. 

"There's good news from the front, too, " continued Dona. "Another ridgetaken, and a village. Winifrede showed me the newspaper. LieutenantPreston's name is mentioned for conspicuous bravery. It's really quitean important victory on our part. We've driven the Huns back a goodpiece. I feel I just want to shout 'Hurrah!' and I'm going to!--

"Hurrah!"

"Hurrah! God save the King!" echoed Marjorie. 

By Angela Brazil

My Own Schooldays. 

 Ruth of St. Ronan's. Joan's Best Chum. Captain Peggie. Schoolgirl Kitty. The School in the South. Monitress Merle. Loyal to the School. A Fortunate Term. A Popular Schoolgirl. The Princess of the School. A Harum-Scarum Schoolgirl. The Head Girl at the Gables. A Patriotic Schoolgirl. For the School Colours. The Madcap of the School. The Luckiest Girl in the School. The Jolliest Term on Record. The Girls of St. Cyprian's. The Youngest Girl in the Fifth. The New Girl at St. Chad's. For the Sake of the School. The School by the Sea. The Leader of the Lower School. A Pair of Schoolgirls. A Fourth Form Friendship. The Manor House School. The Nicest Girl in the School. The Third Form at Miss Kaye's. The Fortunes of Philippa. 

_Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd. Glasgow_

 +---------------------------------------------------------------+ |Transcriber's Note: | | | |Unusual words used in direct speech, and the following words | |have been left as they appear in the original book: caligraphy, | |hinnied, musn't, schemeing and seccotining. The phrase "turned | |up up to time" has also been retained. | | | |The frontispiece illustration was not available for inclusion | |in this ebook. | +---------------------------------------------------------------+