s, and allowed the school a special
indulgence. Needless to say, they availed themselves of it to the
fullest extent. Some had boxes of chocolate sent them from home; others
visited the village shop and purchased delicacies from the big bottles
displayed in the windows; while a favoured few managed to borrow pans
from the kitchen and perform some cookery with the aid of friends.
Lizzie had been concocting peppermint creams, and she now leant back
luxuriously in a basket-chair and handed the box to Ulyth. The two girls
were friends, and often met for a chat. Ulyth sometimes wished they
could be room-mates. Though Rona was immensely improved, she was still
not an entirely congenial companion. Her lack of education and early
training made it difficult for her to understand half the things Ulyth
wanted to talk about, and it was troublesome always to have to explain.
In an equal friendship there must be give and take, and to poor Rona
Ulyth was constantly giving her very best, and receiving nothing in
return. Lizzie, on the contrary, was inspiring. She played and painted
well, was fond of reading, and was ready to help to organize any forward
movement in the school. She and Ulyth pottered together over
photography, mounted specimens for the museum, tried new stitches in
embroidery, and worked at the same patterns in chip carving. The two
girls were at about the same level of attainment in most things, for if
Ulyth had greater originality, Lizzie was the more steady and plodding.
It was Ulyth's failing to take things up very hotly at first, and then
grow tired of them. She was apt to have half a dozen unfinished pieces
of fancywork on hand, and her locker in the carpentry-room held several
ambitious attempts that had never reached fruition.

Lizzie, as she munched her peppermint creams, turned over the pages of a
volume of Dryden's poems, and made an occasional note. Each form kept a
"Calendar of Quotations" hung up in its classroom, the daily extracts
for which were supplied by the girls in rotation. It was Lizzie's turn
to provide the gems for the following week, and she was hunting for
something suitable.

"I wish Miss Bowes had given me Shakespeare," she said. "I could have
got heaps of bits out of my birthday-book, just suitable for the month,
too. I don't know why she should have pitched on Dryden. No one's going
to be particularly cheered next week with my quotations. I've got:

"'MONDAY

"'When I consider life