y
Margaret Hulme herself, that same afternoon, in the cloakroom. The head
girl had been taking off her own muddy boots for more than a fortnight
now; and that in itself was enough to quicken her observation of events in
the junior playroom.

'Isn't there anybody over there who would like to unlace my boots for
me?' she said in a loud voice, as the younger ones came trooping into
the cloakroom after the hockey practice.

There was silence in the ranks of the juniors. The big girls were smiling,
the little ones looked at one another doubtfully, and the head girl
waited with her foot put forward. The etiquette of the junior playroom
was tremendous, and although forty-five sets of fingers were itching to be
at the knot in the head girl's bootlace, nobody could move until Jean
Murray did.

'You can do it, if you like,' she said to Barbara indifferently.

'Oh, no,' said Barbara, quickly. 'I shouldn't think of it.' This time,
her sacrifice was genuine, for Margaret had kissed her just before
dinner and told her she was a 'good little soul,' and the feeling of
the youngest girl in the school had considerably changed in consequence
with regard to the head girl's boots.

'Of course,' said Margaret Hulme, drawing back her foot, 'if nobody
_wants_----'

A murmur ran along the ranks of the juniors, and Babs suddenly whispered
something in Jean's ear. Then the two children joined hands and presented
themselves solemnly before the head girl.

'Please,' said Barbara, quickly, 'we've settled it.'

'It's about time,' observed Margaret.

'We're going to halve it,' added Jean, in a great hurry.

'What? My foot?' asked the head girl.

The wit of the head girl produced a storm of laughter in the cloakroom.
When it subsided, Barbara was ready with her explanation.

'Jean's going to do them four days, and I'm going to do them the other
three,' she said. 'And Jean's going to begin,' she added, and walked away
heroically.

'Oh, no, you begin,' said Jean, feebly.

But Margaret smiled and pinched her ear. 'You begin, child,' she said;
and Jean fairly loved the new girl from that moment onwards.

CHAPTER XI

MISS FINLAYSON'S UNCLE, THE CANON

'It's all very well to tell you to do things for other people; but when
nobody wants anything done, how are you going to carry it out?' demanded
Charlotte Bigley of a circle of attentive listeners.

It was plain-work evening, some five weeks or so before the end of
the term; and