the first half of the Michaelmas term Darsie might
literally have been described as never out of hot water.

And now it was the Lent term; eight months had passed by since the date
of Ralph's death, and it surely behoved Darsie to rise above her
depression, and to throw herself once more into the full, happy life of
the house. She was thankful to do it, thankful to welcome dawnings of
the old zest, to feel her feet involuntarily quicken to a dance, to
discover herself singing as she moved to and fro. The winter had
passed; spring was in the air. It seemed right that it should be in her
heart also.

As usual in the Lent term, hockey was the one absorbing subject outside
"shop," and Hannah Vernon, now advanced to the lofty position of
captain, had special reasons for welcoming her friend's reviving
spirits.

One chilly day in February she entered Darsie's study with a somewhat
unusual request.

"The girls are getting restive, and think that it's quite time we had
another fancy match. They want me to arrange one on the spot. It's so
blighting to be told that one is so clever, and looked to for
inspiration. Every idea forsakes one on the instant. You've been
hibernating for an age, you ought to have lots stored up!"

"I haven't--I've grown hideously dull. What did we have last?"

"Thicks against Thins! Never shall I forget it! To play forward padded
with three separate cushions, and with shawls wound round your limbs, is
the sort of thing one rises to _once_ in a lifetime, but never twice. I
made an adorable fat woman! The Thins had no spirit left in them when
they beheld my bulk. I vote that we don't have anything that involves
padding this time. One never knows one's luck."

"No-o! I think we might hit on something more subtle," Darsie
ruminated, with her eyes on the ceiling. Her reputation of being the
Newnham belle remained unchallenged after two separate incursions of
Freshers.

As she sat before a "burry," clad in a blue, pinafore-like garment, from
which emerged white silk sleeves to match the collar and yoke, her hand
absently turning over a pile of notebooks, bound in green and blue and
rose, she made a striking contrast to Hannah Vernon in a cinnamon coat
and skirt, built for wear by a cheap tailor on the principle of "there
or thereabouts." Even the notebooks reflected the personality of their
owners, for the one which Hannah carried was of the shiny black
persuasion which seemed to pr