she
said. "Steamers are frequently passing between Westhaven and Dunscar,
and they seem to take a course nearer the coast than formerly. The wash
from them is so exceedingly strong that it is wiser to run no risks."

Bathing, therefore, was conducted in small detachments, and though
fresh relays went each day to the cove, it took so long to work through
the whole school that nobody seemed to have the chance of a second
turn. Miss Cavendish, however, was never at a loss. Everyone with the
slightest aptitude for drawing was provided with paper and pencil, and
taken out to sketch from nature. Those who possessed paint-boxes were
encouraged to work in colours, and the head mistress, who had herself
no little skill, gave many useful hints on the putting-in of skies and
the washing of middle distances. Janie Henderson, who was naturally
artistic, and had been accustomed to try her 'prentice hand at home,
found herself at a decided advantage, and won more credit in a single
week than she had hitherto gained in a whole year at Chessington.

"You've scored tremendously, Janie," said Honor, who revelled in her
friend's brief hour of triumph. "Vivian Holmes was most impressed by
your sketch of the cliffs. I heard her telling one of the Aldwythites
about it. She said you were quite an artist. There, don't blush! I'm
particularly rejoiced, because Vivian is so superior, and always does
everything so much better than everybody else, and yet her picture
wasn't half as good as yours, and she knew it."

"Vivian paints rather well, though."

"Oh, yes, tolerably! But she hasn't your touch. She muddles her greens,
and her trees get so treacly! She's not really clever, as you are."

Honor had not brought a paint-box to school, but Janie lent her a brush
and a tube of sepia and a china palette that she had to spare, so that
she was able to attempt studies in monochrome, if she could not try
colour.

"They're horrid daubs," she declared. "I don't pretend to have the
least atom of talent; I only drew these because Miss Cavendish said I
must. It's art under compulsion."

"Like the man who painted the pictures for some Moorish sultan," said
Janie. "I've forgotten the exact facts of the story, but I know he was
taken prisoner, and was marched with a long line of other wretched
captives to learn his fate. The sultan asked the first on the list:
'Can you paint?' and when he answered 'No', ordered his head to be
chopped off. Seven more were