im now with questions.

"Why don't you go out there and look at it yourselves?" But he was too
enthusiastic about the new school to withhold his information. The
living room and the old library had been built into one big room for a
reference library; the classrooms were no end jolly; the billiard room
had been enlarged and was to be an assembly room. A wing had been added
for an indoor gymnasium. He and Stuart King had climbed way to the
tower, but the tower room was locked.

"I remember--mother and Uncle Johnny said that Uncle Peter's papers and
books had been put up there. Mother wouldn't have them here."

"Isn't it funny," mused Gyp as she balanced on the footboard of her bed.
"Everybody hated old Uncle Peter, he was such a cross old thing, and
nobody ever wanted to go to Highacres, and then he turns it into a
school and we'll all just love it and make songs about it----"

"And celebrate Uncle Peter's birthday with an entertainment or
something," broke in Graham. "Maybe they'll even give us a holiday--to
show respect to his memory. Hurrah for old Bones!"

"Graham--you're _dreadful_," giggled Gyp.

"I don't care. It's Uncle Peter's own fault. It's anyone's fault if
nobody in the world likes 'em--it's because they don't like anybody
else!"

Isobel ignored his philosophy. "You want to remember, Graham Westley,
that being Uncle Peter's grandnieces and nephew and having his money
gives us a certain----" she floundered, her mind frantically searching
for the word.

"Prestige," cried Gyp grandly. "I heard mother say that. And I looked it
up--it means authority and influence and power. But I don't see how just
happening to be Uncle Peter's nieces----"

At times Gyp's tendency to get at the very root of things annoyed her
older sister.

"I don't care about dictionaries. Now that the school's going to be at
Highacres we four want to always be very careful how we speak of Uncle
Peter and act sort of dignified out there----"

"_Rats!_" cut in Graham, with scorn. "I say, Gyp--that's _my_ banner!"
Thereupon ensued a lively squabble, in which Tibby, who adored Graham,
sided with him, and Isobel, in spite of Gyp's tearful pleading, refused
to take part, so that the banner came down from the wall and went into
Graham's pocket just as Mrs. Westley walked into the room.

"Why, my dears, all of you in the house this glorious afternoon?"

Mrs. Westley was a plump, bright-eyed woman who adored her four
children, and enjoy