fled with, and the trap was her
latest toy. It was nearly half an hour before the door opened, and two
very subdued and crushed specimens of girlhood issued, mopping their
eyes.

"She says Miss Chadwick knew the wheel wasn't safe, and had gone to get
a fresh pin for it," volunteered Wendy with a gulp. "But how could _we_
know that? She doesn't believe in practical demonstrations of our
lessons, or in self-reliance; she says we've just to do what we are
told. She got quite raggy when Diana mentioned it. We mayn't go near the
stable for a week, and we've each to learn ten pages of poetry by
heart."

"Ten pages! What an atrocious shame!" sympathized Vi. "It'll take all
your recreation time this week."

"I know it will, and I wanted to do some sewing."

"She never said _what_ poetry," put in Diana, her moist eyes suddenly
twinkling. "I'll learn something out of the _Comic Reciter_--the very
maddest and craziest one I can manage to find."

CHAPTER VIII

Armistice Day

Diana had a fairly retentive memory, and learned poetry without much
trouble. By far the hardest part of her punishment was to be forbidden
to visit the stable for a week. She was sure Baron would miss her, and
that, though he might receive other offerings of bread and carrots, he
would be looking out and pricking his ears in vain for the friend with
whom he had grown to be on such intimate terms.

Miss Chadwick, much annoyed at the accident to the cart, treated Diana
distantly. Instead of smiling at her when she came into the room, she
would look round her or over her head, and flash recognition to somebody
else. It was humiliating to find herself out of favour, especially as it
was noticed and commented on by her form-mates, all of whom were
candidates for Miss Chadwick's friendship. Wendy, toiling away at her
punishment task and grumbling at its difficulty, was not at all a
cheerful companion. Moreover, it rained--rained for two days and nights
without stopping; rained as it only can rain in a northern and
mountainous district in the month of November. The fells were covered
with mist, rivers ran down the garden paths, and from the eaves came a
continual and monotonous drip-drip-drip. Diana, whose letters from Paris
had been delayed, and who was home-sick in consequence, vibrated between
a fit of the blues and a wild outbreak of spirits. She had reached the
stage when she must either laugh or cry. She wandered restlessly round
the schoolro