ing heroine, so aptly
called "the Prairie Flower", was probably a speaking likeness of Rona
Mitchell. When she learnt that owing to her letters Rona's father had
determined to send his daughter to school at The Woodlands, her
excitement was immense. She had at once petitioned Miss Bowes to have
her as a room-mate, and was now awaiting her advent with the very
keenest anticipation.

There was a little uncertainty about the time of the new girl's arrival,
for it depended upon the punctuality of the ocean liner, a doubtful
matter if there were a storm; and the feeling that she might be expected
any hour between 9 a.m. and 4 p.m. made havoc of Ulyth's day. It was
impossible to attend to lessons when she was listening for the sound of
a taxi on the drive, and even the attractions of tennis could not decoy
her out of sight of the front door.

"I must be the very first to welcome her," she persisted. "Of course
it's not the same to all the rest of you--I understand that. She's to be
my special property, my Prairie Rose!"

"All serene! If you care to waste your time lounging about the steps you
can. We're not in such a frantic state to see your paragon," laughed the
girls as they ran down the garden to the courts. After all, the waiting
was in vain. Tea-time came without a sign of the new-comer. It was
unlikely that she would turn up now until the evening train, and Ulyth
resigned herself to the inevitable. But when the school was almost
half-way through its bread and butter and gooseberry jam, a sudden
commotion occurred in the hall. There was a noise such as nobody ever
remembered to have heard at The Woodlands before.

"Thank goodness gracious I've got meself here at last!" cried a loud
nasal voice. "Where'll I stick these things? Oh yes, there's heaps more
inside that automobile! Travelling's no joke, I can tell you; I'm tired
to death. Any tea about? I could drink the sea. My gracious, I've had a
time of it coming here!"

At the first word Miss Bowes had glided from the room, and the voice
died away as the door of her private study closed. Sounds suggestive of
the carrying upstairs of luggage followed, and a hinnying laugh echoed
once down the stairs. The girls looked at one another; there was a
shadow in Ulyth's eyes. She did not share in the general smile that
passed round the table, and she finished her tea in dead silence.

"Going to sample your new property?" whispered Mary Acton as the girls
pushed back their