ngs.

"She was new and didn't know," she said. "You are little brutes to go
giving the kid a rough time just because Jack chooses to get herself
into trouble. As for her being German--well, even if she is, she
needn't necessarily be any the worse for that. I dare say there are
some decent Germans--just as there are _some_ rotten English people!"
With which, for Monica, rather bitter little speech, the Sixth Form
girl stalked away.

Phyllis chose to consider herself very much aggrieved by the wigging
Monica had administered, and seeking out her chum, Dorothy, she
confided her woes to her. Dorothy was properly sympathetic.

"Well, anyway, if she isn't German, she's a beastly little sneak--and a
rotten little coward into the bargain! Let's do something to show
Monica what she is really like, shall we? If we could scare her up in
the dorm when Monica was there, so that she could see what a funk she
is, perhaps she'd believe us."

"But what could we do?" asked Phyllis doubtfully. "Ghosts aren't
allowed ever since the Green Dorm scared that little kid, Molly Forest,
into fits last winter. Besides, Muriel would be down on us like a ton
of coal if we tried on anything of that sort. And I don't want to get
into Muriel Paget's bad books if I can help it."

The conversation was taking place in the boot-lobby, a favourite haunt
of the two chums since they had discovered that after supper they
usually had it entirely to themselves. Dorothy was perched up on the
top of one of the lockers, and Phyllis was just climbing up beside her,
when a sudden click near by made them both jump down with a little
scream.

"What was that? Did you hear it, Phil?"

"It came from underneath this shelf, I think," said Phyllis, stooping
down to reconnoitre. Then she thrust her hand under the row of
boot-lockers with a little laugh.

"It's a mouse, caught in Bennett's mousetrap. I was in here when he
was clearing the boots away yesterday, and he told me he was going to
set one, because he was sure there was a mouse in the lockers
somewhere. Look, here it is! Isn't it a darling?" And she held up a
wooden and wire cage, in which a small mouse was held captive.

Dorothy clasped her hands with a sudden inspiration.

"The very thing!" she exclaimed delightedly.

"What is?" inquired Phyllis, mystified.

"Why, that mouse! It will do to frighten Geraldine with, _splendidly_.
We'll put it in her bed to-night, and she'll scream like