e contents of Mr. Macrae's desk out of the window
and wrote on the blackboard: 'Mr. Macrae is the silliest ass in
England.' Then he and Muriel walked demurely back to join the tinkling
mazurka down below and, though many enquiries were set on foot as to the
perpetrator of the outrage, Michael was never found out.

Michael's passion for Muriel increased with every evening of her
company, and he went so far as to make friends with a very unpopular boy
who lived in her road, for the sake of holding this unpopular boy in
close conversation by his threshold on the chance of seeing Muriel's
grey muff in the twilight. Muriel was strangely cold for the heroine of
such a romance, and indeed Michael only once saw her really vivacious,
which was when he gave her a catapult. Yet sometimes she would make a
clandestine appointment and talk to him for twenty minutes in a secluded
terrace, so that he consoled himself with a belief in her untold
affection. Michael read Don Quixote again on account of Dulcinea del
Toboso, and he was greatly moved by the knight's apostrophes and
declamations. He longed for a confidant and was half inclined to tell
Stella about Muriel; but when he came to the point Stella was engrossed
in a new number of Little Folks and Michael feared she was unworthy of
such a trust. The zenith of his passion was attained at the Boarders'
dance to which he and Muriel and even Stella were invited. Michael had
been particularly told by Miss Carthew that he was to dance four times
at least with Stella and never to allow her to be without a partner. He
was in despair and felt, as he encountered the slippery floor with
Stella hanging nervously on his arm, that round his neck had been tied a
millstone of responsibility. There in a corner was Muriel exquisite in
yellow silk, and in her hair a yellow bow. Boys flitted round her, like
bees before a hive, and here was he powerless with this wretched sister.

"You wait here," said Michael. "I'll be back in half a jiffy."

"Oh, no," pouted Stella. "You're not to leave me alone, Michael. Miss
Carthew said you were to look after me."

Michael groaned.

"Do you like ices?" he asked desperately. "You do, don't you?"

"No," said Stella. "They make my tooth ache."

Michael almost wept with chagrin. He had planned to swap with Stella for
unlimited ices all her dances with him. Then he saw a friend whom he
caught hold of, and with whom he whispered fiercely for a moment.

"I say, yo