It ended in Diana passing Christmas with the Flemings at
Pendlemere Vicarage. So far she had scarcely realized Meg and Elsie
Fleming. They came to school daily, and she had seen them among the
juniors, and remarked that they were "sweet kids". She was now to meet
them at nearer acquaintance, and not only Meg and Elsie, but Monty,
Neale, and Roger as well.

They were an interesting and lively family, and after a preliminary
half-hour of painful politeness, they thawed over schoolroom tea, and
adopted her into their midst. Monty, the eldest, was an eccentric,
clever lad in spectacles, fond of making scientific and chemical
experiments, which generally ended in odours that caused the others to
hold their noses and open the schoolroom windows, top and bottom. He had
a philosophical mind and a love of argument, and would thrash out
questions for the sheer fun of debate in a growling sort of tone that
was not really bad-tempered, only put on.

Neale, six months older than Diana, was a bright, jolly-looking boy,
with a freckled nose and chestnut hair that rather stood on end. As
regards book-learning, the less said about his attainments the better,
and he had an unpleasant half-hour in his father's study, explaining
details of his school report; but in all practical matters he was ahead
of Monty. He was a thorough young pickle, up to endless pranks, and
determined not to let time hang heavy on his hands during the holidays.

Roger, the youngest, a smart little chap of nine, followed in the wake
of his brothers, poking interfering fingers into Monty's chemical
messes, or acting scout for Neale's escapades. At the end of twelve
hours Diana felt that she knew them perfectly, and had shaken down into
a place of her own amongst them.

Six young people home for the holidays are apt to turn a house upside
down, and it was fortunate for Mrs. Fleming that she had an easy-going
and happy-go-lucky disposition, and could view with comparative
equanimity the chaos that reigned in the schoolroom. To Diana it was
delightful; she preferred a floor littered with shavings, a table spread
with paints, plasticine modelling-clay, and other descriptions of mess,
and chairs encumbered with books and papers, to the neatest, tidiest
room where everything you want is put away out of reach in cupboards.

"When I heard I was coming to the Vicarage, I thought: 'My, I guess I
won't have to bounce there!' But you're a real set of sports," she
assured