e ever so baffling for the rest to find
letters 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 their
rivals. Though they preserved its objects in a halo of mystery, they
allowed just the initials of its name to leak out, so as to convince the
hostel of its reality. Unfortunately they had not noticed that S.S.O.P.
spells "sop", but the outside public eagerly seized at such an
opportunity, and nicknamed them "the Milksops" on the spot. As they had
expected, Irene and her satellites were highly affronted at an
opposition society being started, and flung scorn at its members.

"We mustn't mind them," urged Marjorie patiently. "It's really a
compliment to us that they're so annoyed. We'll just go on our own way
and take no notice. I've invented a beautiful cryptogram. They'll never
guess it without the key, if they try for a year."

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

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

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

Even Chrissie objected to being obliged to translate notes written in
cipher.

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

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

The main difficulty of the society was to find sufficient outlets for
its activities. At present, knitting socks seemed the only form of aid
which it was possible to render the soldiers. The members decided that
they must work harder at this occupation and produce more pairs. Some of
them smuggled their knitting into Preparation, with the result that
their form work suffered. They bore loss of marks and Miss Duckworth's
reproaches with the heroism of martyrs to a cause.

"We couldn't tell her we were fulfilling vows," sighed Marjorie, "though
I was rather tempted to ask her which was more important--my Euclid or
the 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 Red