'm not you, Paddy!" chuckled Lettice.

Nobody ever knew the details of Mr. Townsend's interview with the
house-mistress, or what explanation he gave of the affair. Though he
was perfectly persuaded that it was Honor's own fault, it was difficult
for him to blame her for what might, after all, have been a mere
accident; so, beyond a few words of warning about the danger of
whipping her horse without proper orders, she did not on this occasion
receive the scolding that she certainly merited.

Victor was found on the hills six miles away from Chessington, gently
cropping the grass, and allowed himself to be caught by a passing
farmer. He was not used at the riding lessons again. Honor was in
future given the tamest and least-spirited of the mounts, and for the
next two lessons was even kept strictly to the leading rein.

"She's fearfully disgusted about it," said Lettice, "and it certainly
is a humiliation, when she can ride so well. It's quite the worst
punishment Mr. Townsend could possibly have given her, and I expect he
knows it!"

CHAPTER VI

The Lower Third

The Lower Third Form at Chessington College numbered seventeen pupils,
eight of whom were members of St. Chad's. In addition to Honor, these
included Maisie and Lettice Talbot, Ruth Latimer, Pauline Reynolds,
Janie Henderson, Effie Lawson, and Flossie Taylor. The teacher, Miss
Farrar, was rather a favourite with her class. Though she could well
uphold her authority, and maintain the good discipline that was
universal in the school, she was not so strict as some of the other
mistresses. She had a very pleasant, genial manner; she was a capital
tennis player, and no mean figure at hockey and cricket; she was a
prominent supporter of the Debating Society and the Natural History
Union; and was altogether so cheerful and brisk that "jolly" was the
word generally applied to her. Honor liked Miss Farrar, and, according
to her lights, really made a heroic effort in the direction of good
behaviour. Her conduct was certainly immeasurably superior to what it
had been with her governesses at home, and yet, judged by Chessington
standards, it was frequently irregular and unorthodox. With her best
endeavours, she could not grasp the fact that education is a very
solemn affair, and a school-room about the last place in the world
where one should try to be funny. She never seemed able to be
absolutely serious, and at the least opportunity her Celtic humour
would