ority for this afternoon, and I mean to have my own way, so I
give you warning. Start that dance instantly, and Ida and Peggie hold
this rope."

Instead of obeying, the Juniors crowded round Netta uttering protests
and reproaches in a perfect chorus of mutiny. Gwen, who could not
quite grasp the cause of the quarrel, made her way through a gap in
the hedge and entered the large field.

"What's all the shindy about?" she enquired. "You're like a set of
wild Irishmen at a fair. I thought you were supposed to be
rehearsing?"

"How can we rehearse by ourselves?"

"And without our leader?"

"Netta won't conduct!"

"She told us to go and dance by ourselves, while she practised her own
jumping."

"And she wanted to make Ida and Peggie hold the rope for her."

"How can we do our morris dance without Ida and Peggie? It spoils the
figures."

"Netta!" gasped Gwen. "Did you actually mean to practise jumping
instead of taking this rehearsal?"

Netta shrugged her shoulders easily.

"The kids know their steps so well, they can do the thing perfectly,"
she replied. "What was the good of wasting my time drilling them? I
thought I'd make them of some use, and let them hold a rope for me.
They're an ungrateful little set of sneaks--won't do a thing for their
seniors!"

"Why, I should think not, in this case, when you'd been specially
told off by the Committee to superintend their dance. I sympathize
with the kids. They've right on their side. It's you who are the
sneak."

"Oh! Am I indeed, Miss Gwen Gascoyne? Thank you for nothing. It's a
pretty name to have called me, and I shan't forget it."

"But it's true!" returned Gwen with warmth. "It's simply abominable
behaviour to pretend to act dancing mistress and use the time for your
own purposes. Why should these kids hold a rope for you?"

"And why should you take me to task, I'd like to know? You're not a
prefect."

"I only wish I were."

"No doubt you do!" sneered Netta. "You've been so stuck up since your
Cot scheme was adopted, that you seem to imagine yourself as good as
the head of the school."

"Gwen, you take our rehearsal instead--we've wasted ten minutes or
more over wrangling!" pleaded one of the Juniors.

"I will, if Netta will let me."

"Oh, I yield my place with pleasure to the all-important,
all-necessary Gwen Gascoyne!" retorted Netta. "We humbler members of
the Fifth don't get a look-in nowadays. But just let me give you one
word of good advic