ment of a long-cherished dream.
As she looked at it, her imagination skipped three or four years and
showed her a golden vision of herself--in a pale pink satin dress with a
pearl necklace--standing on a concert platform and bowing repeatedly to
the storm of applause which had greeted her song.

"I can't tell you how hard I'm going to work," she confided. "I shall
just practise and practise and practise. I know that wretched theory
will rather stump me, but I'll wrestle with it. There'll be such a
musical atmosphere about the place, it can't help inspiring one."

"The hostel will be fun, too," said Lorraine, going down on her knees to
inspect the dainty afternoon tea service that was being rolled up for
safety in soft articles of clothing. "I can just picture you in your
room, making a cup of cocoa before you go to bed."

"And having in a few friends. It'll be the time of my life! I always
wanted to go to boarding school, but this will be even better, because
in a way I shall be my own mistress. I never thought I'd work Dad round
to it. I've been in a sort of quiver ever since he said 'yes'. Who's
there?" (as a loud series of rappings resounded on the door). "Oh, I
can't have you children in here just now! Go away!"

"We _must_ come in!" urged Monica, following up her words by a forcible
entrance. "There! there! Don't get excited! You'll _welcome_ us when you
know what we've come for! Chips and I have brought you a present. We
thought you'd like to pack it now."

Mervyn, otherwise "Chips", an overgrown boy of thirteen, was embracing a
large parcel, which he plumped on the floor and unfolded. It contained a
fretwork basket, stained brown and still rather sticky with varnish. The
corners fitted indifferently, and the handle was slightly askew.

"We've made it between us!" said Mervyn proudly. "It'll either do for a
work-basket, or you could plant ferns in it and have it in your window."

"You didn't guess the least little atom what we were doing, did you?"
asked Monica anxiously.

"Not a scrap!" said Rosemary, gallantly accepting the embarrassing
offering with the enthusiasm it demanded. "You're dears to have made it
for me. I can keep all sorts of things in it: cocoa and condensed milk,
and bits of string, and everything I'm likely to lose. Thanks ever so!
Isn't it a little sticky to pack yet?"

"Not _very_!" said Mervyn, applying a finger as practical demonstration:
"I'm glad you like it. It's our first really