rong; but what did dinner
matter when there was her letter home to be written?

'My dear child, we're not allowed to write letters except on Wednesday
afternoons. Make haste and put the thing away, do,' said Ruth,
impatiently. The sudden look of distress on the child's face touched
her, and she added more kindly--'Well, well, bring it downstairs with
you, Babe, and perhaps Finny will give you leave to send it to-day. Only,
do _come_.'

Miss Finlayson not only gave her leave, but even offered to deliver the
letter herself, as she happened to be going to pay a call near Crofts
that same afternoon. It consoled Babs a little to feel that the boys would
not have to wait until the morning to learn how miserable she was; at
the same time, her present situation was no easier to bear, for all the
younger girls took a thoughtless pleasure in talking at her, whenever
Jean was present; and it was not nice to be with people who made remarks
about her, and yet pretended all the time that she was not there. The
early part of the afternoon at Wootton Beeches was given up to playing
games in the nine-acre field, which was marked out, during the winter,
into hockey grounds; and here Babs found herself, soon after dinner,
strolling aimlessly along by the hedge and wondering what there was about
her that made eighty-seven girls detest her so heartily. When she suddenly
remembered how much she had looked forward to playing real games with
real schoolgirls, her disappointment was too much for her, and the tears
rolled rapidly down her cheeks.

'Why, here's the new girl, Barbara Berkeley. She'll do,' said a brisk
voice behind her, and the games-mistress descended upon her with a hasty
request 'not to hide away in corners when she was wanted.'

'I didn't know I was wanted,' explained Barbara, following her up the
field. 'I never am wanted, you see.'

'Nonsense! Everybody is wanted at this school,' replied the
games-mistress, who had a warm complexion, a breezy manner, and a
vigorous step, all of which, aided by her name of Burleigh, had secured
her the nickname of Hurly-burly. It never occurred to her that the new
girl was suffering from anything worse than the ordinary depression
natural to her newness, and she decided immediately that the best
thing to cheer her up would be to make her run about. In the eyes of
Miss Burleigh, running about was a cure for most things. 'Here, Charlotte
Bigley!' she called loudly; 'you ought to have looked