en lawn and shady paths
began to fill up with girls. They came at first in twos and threes, and
then in larger numbers till the place seemed full of them. There were
only about forty altogether, but it was seven weeks since most of them
had met one another, and the babel of tongues that ensued would have
suggested a hundred children at the least. Six long-legged juniors
occupied the garden-seat, with as many more hanging over the back; a
dozen of the smaller fry squatted on the grass, some frivolous
intermediates cackled over jokes in the corner by the bay tree, and a
few enterprising spirits had mounted the wall to watch for new-comers.

"Here's Aileen!"

"And Grace!"

"With her little sister!"

"And Effie after all, though she wasn't sure she'd be back in time!"

"Good old Effie! I'm glad she's come!"

"Where's Marcia, by the by?"

"Gone to the High School at St. Jude's."

"Poor wretch, I'm sorry for her! What a traipse to go by train every
morning! Why, here's Doreen, and she's cut her hair short! Oh, I say!
Doreen, old sport, I hardly knew you! What a kid you look!"

Doreen shook back her shock of crisp brown hair, conscious of the
pleasing fact that it curled at the ends.

"Kid, indeed!" she replied, with an indignant thrill in her voice. "I
was thirteen last week!"

"Shouldn't have thought it," twittered Enid. "I was just going to
suggest a pair of socks and ankle-band shoes. There's a new teacher for
the kindergarten, if that interests you. There, don't get raggy! Perhaps
you'll find yourself in the Sixth after all!"

"No, thank you! I've no yearnings to be in the Oxford Room. I suppose we
shall all be going up a form, though? Who are the monitresses this year?
Have you heard?"

Enid slipped down from her post on the wall, and locking her arm in
Doreen's strolled with her towards the house.

"Not a word," she replied. "Until the Great Panjandrum reads out the
lists we're utterly and entirely in the dark. Of course, most of those
who were in the Fifth last year will have gone up into the Sixth,
except, perhaps, Beryl Woodhouse and Moira Stanning, but I've been
talking it over with Vera and Pansy, and they both agree it's an
absolute toss-up who's to be head girl."

"Why, how extraordinary! I should have said there wasn't any doubt about
it. There's only one girl who's in the least likely."

"Which one?"

"Vivien, of course!"

Enid pulled an eloquent face.

"It's not 'of course'. I, for on