ate all the
time? Can't you leave it and compete for the dart-throwing contest?
It's always ripping. Surely nobody else will come now?"

"Don't suppose they will, and I'd love to try the darts. But what am I
to do with this satchel? It contains solid wealth."

"I'd give it to Miss Roscoe if I were you and ask her to take charge
of it. Can you lock it?"

"Yes, I have the key in my pocket. I'll put the unused checks inside
with the cash. There! That's safely locked up. The bag is quite heavy!
The gate has made a splendid contribution towards the cot I feel so
jubilant I want to 'cock-a-doodle'!"

Miss Roscoe readily took charge of the precious satchel, leaving Gwen
free to enter for any of the remainder of the sports in which she
might care to try her skill. The dart-throwing contest was just about
to take place, so she promptly joined the ranks of the competitors.
Each in turn had to throw six darts at a target, the one obtaining the
highest score securing the prize. It was a task that needed a true eye
and a firm hand, and proved far more difficult than most of the girls
anticipated. Some of them failed altogether to hit the target, and
others only achieved a chance dart in the outside rings. One or two of
the Sixth Form did fairly well, but did not secure a bull's-eye.

"They've fixed the distance too far. It's impossible to shy properly
when one's such a long way off," declared Charlotte Perry, retiring
disconsolately after a series of bad shots. "It's your turn now, Gwen.
I wish you better luck than I've had."

Gwen took her six darts and advanced to the white circle which was
marked on the grass as the throwing place. It was a game which she had
played frequently at the Parsonage, where she had often matched her
skill against that of her father and Beatrice. She had a strong arm
and a very true aim, two great essentials for success, and though the
number of paces was certainly greater than that to which she was
accustomed at home the increased distance did not seem an insuperable
difficulty.

"I must throw a little higher and harder, that's all," she said to
herself. "Fortunately there's no wind blowing to speak of."

Gwen's first shot went wide, but her second lodged in the outer ring
of the target. Profiting by the experience she regulated her aim, and
sent her third dart into the second ring. Her fourth and fifth were
nearer the centre still and the spectators began to cheer. Only one
dart remained; it