erland. Isn't she lucky?"

All the members of the third class had promised faithfully to
correspond with one another, and Sylvia suggested that they should
each keep a diary of their adventures, to be read aloud at the next
meeting of the S.S.L.U., which had languished during the summer, but
which they intended to take up with renewed vigour when the days began
to close in once more.

"Everybody must agree to send everybody else at least two picture
postcards," said Linda, "and then we can compare them when we come
back to school."

"Yes, if one's mother will pay for them," said Connie, who had
returned to the lawn. "Mine struck last holidays, and said eleven
children all wanting stamps continually was ruining her, and we must
buy our own. Postcards are a penny each, and they need halfpenny
stamps, so it'll cost exactly one and ninepence to send two to every
one of you. I can't possibly afford it! Not if I want any donkey rides
or chocolates."

The others laughed. The comfortable assurance that "Mother will pay",
held by most boys and girls, had not caused them to think of the
expense, and Connie's calculations were startling.

"Well, of course, if you can't, you can't," said Linda, "and we shan't
expect them. You may write a kind of round-robin letter and send it to
me, and I'll send it to somebody else, who'll pass it on to the next.
That'll only take you one stamp, and you must go without a pennyworth
of chocolates."

The guests were to arrive at half-past three o'clock, and the moment
dinner was over, the girls hurried to their bedrooms for the very
important ceremony of changing their dresses. Linda's thick, straight,
brown locks had been wetted and plaited in the tightest possible
braids the night before, to give it the required wave. Nina Forster
had even tried the experiment of screwing hers up in curl papers; but
the hard, round knobs had stuck into her head, and made her too
uncomfortable to sleep, so, after tossing about uneasily for an hour,
she could bear it no longer, and had pulled them out with a solemn vow
to relinquish the idea of ringlets in the future. Marian, whose long
beautiful auburn hair was generally brushed stiffly back from her face
and worn in a neat pigtail, left it loose for once, and allowed
Gwennie to tie it with two large bows of light-blue ribbon to match
her sash; an alteration much appreciated by the girls, who declared
they scarcely recognized her. Connie had little vanity,