above her. It would do her ever so much good."

"Oh, do!" pleaded the others.

"Why don't you try yourselves?" asked Sylvia.

"Oh, we can't; it's no use!" said Connie; "but you look clever, and
I'm sure you'll be able to learn things. She needn't think she's going
to have it all her own way this term, because----"

"Hush, she's here!" said Hazel quickly, as the door opened, and Marian
came in, carrying her music case, followed shortly afterwards by
Gwennie and Jessie Ellis.

"What shall we play to-night?" asked Connie, who had gone rather red.
"I don't think she heard," she whispered to Hazel.

"Word-making," said Marian decisively. "Here's the box."

"Oh no!" exclaimed Nina and Hazel, "that's a stupid game. We don't
like it at all."

"Yes, you do. Don't be silly. Come along."

"I vote for telegrams," suggested Linda.

"No!" cried Marian.

"Yes!" cried the others in such overwhelming majority that Marian had
to give way, though she looked anything but pleased.

Pencils and pieces of paper were collected, the eight girls seated
themselves round the table, and each set to work to concoct a telegram
the words of which must commence with twelve letters read out at
random, in the order in which they were given. The letters were: T, C,
M, I, C, D, C, I, W, E, A, B. They proved a little puzzling to fit
together, but after much nibbling of pencils, and knitting of brows,
everybody managed to get something written, and Marian volunteered to
read them out.

The first happened to be Sylvia's. She had put: "Tell Charley Mother
ill. Cook dead. Come immediately. Will explain all. Bertha."

"It's not bad," said Marian condescendingly, "but you don't know how
to spell. You've written C-h-a-r-l-e-y."

"Well, and that's the right way too!" said Sylvia.

"Indeed it's not, it's C-h-a-r-l-i-e. Why, even Jessie Ellis knows
that."

"I've seen it C-h-a-r-l-e-y in a book," objected Sylvia, who meant to
fight her own battles.

"Then it must have been a misprint."

"I believe you can spell it both ways," said Hazel, "just like Lily or
Lillie."

"Then it's old-fashioned, and my way's the best," declared Marian, who
loved to argue.

"Oh, get on and never mind!" cried Linda. "We want to hear the other
telegrams. What does it matter how we spell them?"

At half-past seven a tray with glasses of milk and plates of
bread-and-butter and biscuits was brought into the room, and, when
supper was finished, Mercy Ingledew, the