, and followed their cicerone, who seemed determined to perform
her office of guide in as efficient a fashion as possible.

"This is the Quad," she informed them. "That's the Assembly Hall and the
Head's private house, and those are the three hostels. What's it like in
St. Githa's? I can't tell you, because I've never been there. It's for
Seniors, and no Intermediate or Junior may pop her impertinent nose
inside, or so much as go and peep through the windows without getting
into trouble. They've carpets on the stairs instead of linoleum, and
they 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 return
the visits. By the by, you'd oblige me greatly if you'd tilt your
chapeau a little farther forward. Like this, see!"

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

"Because only Seniors may wear their sailors on the backs of their
heads. It's a strict point of school etiquette. You may jam on your
hockey 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 wear
lockets, they're limited to brooches. I advise you to strip those
trinkets off at once and stick them in your pockets. Don't go in to tea
with them on any account."

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

"Now, look here, young 'un, let me give you a word of good advice at the
beginning. Don't you go saying anything here is silly. The rules have
been made by the Seniors, and Juniors have got to put up with them and
keep civil tongues in their heads. If you want to get on you'll have to
accommodate yourself to the ways of the place. Any girl who doesn't has
a 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 been
to school before," she explained to Mollie, "so she's still feeling
rather home-sick."

Mollie nodded sympathetically.

"I understand. She'll soon get over it. She's a decent kid. I'm going to
like her. That's why I'm giving her all these tips, so that she won't
make 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 had
her at our ho