h her father much appreciated. Winnie
was determined to run her poultry systematically. She kept strict
accounts, balancing the bills for corn and meal against current market
prices for eggs and chickens, and being tremendously proud if her book
showed a profit. On the whole she did well, for the fowls had a free
run on the common at the back of the house, and could thus pick up
much for themselves. With the help of the poultry, and a good
vegetable garden, Beatrice was able to make her small housekeeping
allowance supply the needs of the family, but there were no luxuries
at the Parsonage. The girls possessed few or none of the pretty
trifles dear to their sex, their pocket money was scanty almost to
vanishing point, and they had early learnt the stern lesson of "doing
without things". Adversity may be a hard task-mistress, but she is an
excellent teacher in the school of life, and their Spartan upbringing
had given the Gascoynes a certain resourcefulness and grit of
character that they might possibly have lacked in more affluent
surroundings. They were not a perfect family by any means, and had
their squabbles and their cross moods like many another; but on the
whole they were ready to give and take, make sacrifices for each
other, and to try day by day to live a little nearer to that wonderful
high standard that Father ever set before them, and which he himself
followed so faithfully and truly.

CHAPTER III

A False Step

The morning following Gwen's promotion to the Fifth Form was wet, one
of those hopelessly wet October days when the grey sky and the
dripping trees and the sodden grass and the draggled flowers all seem
to combine to remind us that summer, lovely, gracious summer, has gone
with the swallows and left her fickle stepsister autumn in her stead.
It had been raining heavily all night, and it was pouring hard when
Nellie placed the coffee pot and the porridge on the table and rang
the breakfast bell.

"It's an atrocious, abominable morning!" grunted Gwen, peering
disconsolately through the window into the damp garden. "It's sheer
cruelty to be expected to turn out and tramp two miles through the
mud. We oughtn't to have to go to school when it rains."

"Wet at seven, fine at eleven!" chirped Beatrice at the coffee pot.

"It's all very well for you to be cheerful and quote proverbs--you
haven't to go out yourself, Madam Bee!" grumbled Gwen. "I wonder how
you'd like it if--"

"Oh, Gwen, do