ree-quarters of a cupful of milk. Now this
tablespoonful of butter. Yes, that's all, thanks. Somebody pull that
fender away, please; I want to get to the fire."

Stolen waters are sweet, and schoolgirl nature is the same the whole
world over. The Junior boarders all had more than a suspicion that
Gipsy's cookery was unauthorized, but who could resist the attractions
of toffee making?

"I hope it's a sort that goes cold quickly, and won't take till next
morning to harden," said Dilys Fenton. "Last 5th of November I think we
didn't boil ours quite long enough, and we really couldn't wait, so we
ate it soft."

"You boil this till it threads from the spoon, and then you beat it with
a fork till it creams," murmured Gipsy, with her head over the pan.

"Let me stir!" begged Pamela Harvey.

"You mustn't stir it. That's the secret of good Fudge-making, not to
stir at all while it's boiling. It makes it coarse-grained if you do."

"Won't it burn, though?"

"It doesn't out in U.S.A. But then we make it on stoves, you see. I
can't guarantee it on an open fire. By good rights it ought to have
pieces of hickory nut in it, but it won't taste bad without."

"I'd call that fire fierce for ordinary toffee," commented Lennie
Chapman.

"I'm sure I smell something," sniffed Dilys Fenton.

"Oh, it's burning!"

"Gipsy! Stir it!"

"It's boiling over!"

"Take it off, quick!"

Half a dozen eager hands snatched at the pan, but it was too late; the
sugary compound rose like a volcano and overflowed into the fire. A wail
of lament came from the disappointed girls.

"I knew it would!" protested Lennie.

"Oh, it's made an awful smell! Open the window, somebody!" shrieked
Gipsy. "If we don't mind, Poppie'll nose it out, and come poking up.
Oh! Good gracious!"

Gipsy might well exclaim, for there, just behind them, stood Miss
Poppleton herself. She had been walking along the passage, and attracted
by the smell of burning, she had opened the door quietly to ascertain
the cause. There was a moment of awful silence. Eleven sinners felt
themselves most horribly caught.

"Who brought these things here?" demanded Miss Poppleton, eyeing the
tray and its paraphernalia.

"I did. I got them from the kitchen," answered Gipsy. "We always made
Fudge in the schoolroom in Dorcas City," she added, with a spice of
defiance in her voice.

"You won't here!" returned Miss Poppleton grimly. "Take those things
back to the kitchen at once. You wi