the entrance of Finny would have calmed the noisy tumult; but
when they saw her standing on the platform, looking down at them with
her best Saturday smile on her face, the clamour ended in a burst of
laughter; and five or six of the more eager of them invaded the platform,
and danced round her appealingly.

'Do, do say who's going to win,' begged Barbara, catching hold of her
sleeve.

'It's Margaret and the Babe, isn't it?' cried Jean.

'No!' shrilled Angela. 'You mean Margaret and----'

'Charlotte Bigley!' gasped Mary Wells, squeezing herself into the front
rank.

Miss Finlayson put out her arms and encircled as many of them as she
could, and spun them round the platform with her.

'Dear, dear little girls!' she exclaimed, when she was out of breath and
could dance no more. 'Do you know what the Canon ought to have done, if
he wanted to please _me_?'

'What? What?' cried a dozen voices.

'He ought to have offered thirty-two prizes, and then I should not have
been afraid of any of my children feeling disappointed,' answered Miss
Finlayson, nodding at them wisely; and, somehow, it seemed to Jean as if
the head-mistress's eyes rested longest of all upon her.

CHAPTER XV

THE GYMNASTIC DISPLAY

The junior division, drawn up in double file, stood assembled in the
anteroom of the gymnasium, on the day of the great competition for
the Canon's prize. The figure-marching by the whole class was over, and
the senior division had just begun the wand exercises to the piano
accompaniment of the German music-master, who, being the unlucky
possessor of an unpronounceable name in three syllables, was generally
known as 'Scales.' The applause which had followed after the marching
had taken away the first shyness of the younger children; and even the
prospect of doing separate exercises presently, before an audience of
strangers, did not seem to be having much effect on the sixteen little
girls in scarlet frocks who were waiting in the anteroom for their turn
to come. Hurly-Burly, though supposed to be superintending affairs in
the gymnasium, had to look in at the door more than once, to remind
them that the crashing chords of 'Scales' did not drown everything;
but just as she had succeeded in reducing them at last to order, a
piece of information passed down the file from Charlotte Bigley, who
stood nearest the doorway and had the best view of the gymnasium, upset
them all once more.

'Margaret has forgotten the