was the best feathered of the six, and she had
purposely kept it until the last. She poised it carefully, calculated
for the slight breeze, then with a neat turn of her wrist hurled it as
swiftly as possible at the target. It whistled rapidly through the
air and lodged full in the bull's-eye. A storm of clapping greeted her
achievement. She was the last on the list of competitors, so she had
gained a full and complete victory over her rivals in the contest. She
beamed with satisfaction as she went up to receive her prize--a pretty
little silver brooch.

She had no further good fortune, though she tried her luck in the
potato race and the ball-catching competition, which concluded the
sports. It was now after five o'clock, and a procession of girls in
Elizabethan costume came on to the field to sing the final madrigal
which was to wind up the fete. As the last strains died away and the
band began "God Save the King", everybody joined in the National
Anthem and gave three hearty cheers for the Rodenhurst Cot.

"It has been a splendid afternoon," said Miss Roscoe, as the crowd
began to disperse and the sweet vendors and flower sellers came to
hand over their gains. "I'm sure we shall have realized quite a large
sum. It's too late to count our proceeds this afternoon. You must all
go home now, but if you have each labelled your own bag I will lock
them up in my safe until to-morrow. I think we may congratulate
ourselves on the success of our anniversary. It has more than answered
our expectations."

Gwen went home in high glee. She had enjoyed her part of the
celebrations thoroughly, and the consciousness that she had originated
the cot scheme gave an added degree of pleasure to the general sense
of prosperous termination of the affair. As she walked with Lesbia
round the orchard that evening she indulged in a little
self-congratulation.

"It is nice to have engineered all this!" she admitted. "Miss Roscoe's
pleased about it, I'm sure. She was so gracious to me when I took her
my satchel. She actually called me 'dear'!--a thing she's never done
in her life before. It's been a ripping day. School will seem quite
flat again after it. I wish there were another fete to look forward
to!"

"There's the tennis tournament," suggested Lesbia.

"Yes; but I shan't have much chance for that with my wretched old
racket!" sighed Gwen.

"Suppose I'd a new one, and could lend it to you?" said Lesbia
quickly. "A lovely half-guinea