n't whine! Come and get breakfast," interrupted Winnie.
"It's five-and-twenty to eight, and I've a strong suspicion the
clock's late."

"It is," remarked Lesbia calmly, pausing with her porridge spoon
suspended midway between plate and mouth. "Stumps put it back ten
minutes last night when Father wasn't looking. I saw him."

A chorus of united indignation followed her information, each member
of the family trying to bolt breakfast and scold the offender at the
same time.

"We've only five minutes. Oh, you naughty boy!" shrieked Winnie.

"I didn't want to go to bed--I meant to put it on again this morning
first thing--I did, honest," protested Giles, otherwise known as
"Stumps".

"Lesbia, why couldn't you say sooner?" fretted Gwen.

"Only just remembered."

"And the porridge is so hot I've burned my mouth!" wailed Basil.

"You haven't a moment to waste!" urged Beatrice. "Have you all got
your boots on? I shall tell Father what you've done, Giles, as soon as
he comes downstairs."

Even the loss of ten minutes was a serious consideration to those
members of the Gascoyne family who were bound for school. Skelwick was
such an out-of-the-way place that they had quite a journey to get to
Stedburgh, the seaside town where Rodenhurst was situated. First they
had to walk two miles along a very exposed country road to the village
of North Ditton, where they could catch the motor omnibus that would
take them the remaining four miles into Stedburgh, and then there was
a further walk of at least ten minutes before they reached the school.
The bus always started with the utmost promptitude, so it was a daily
anxiety to leave home punctually and not be obliged to run the last
half mile. On this particular morning there was more than the usual
scramble to get off. At the last moment Gwen could not find her
galoshes, and remembered that she had broken the rib of her umbrella
some days before, and had forgotten to mention the fact and ask
Beatrice to have it mended.

"You're the most tiresome girl!" scolded the harassed elder sister.
"Why couldn't you tell me and I'd have sent it to Johnson's last
night? Now I suppose I shall have to lend you mine, and very likely
you'll go and break that too!"

"I don't want yours!" snapped Gwen, tucking her hair inside her
mackintosh and putting on her "stormy-weather" cap. "I wouldn't risk
smashing it for a five-pound note. I'll go without!" and snatching her
satchel of books she rushed