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(Page 72)

“Here, Solly, take her off out of this!”

Rosalie Dene always vowed that it was she who had begun it, though she had certainly never intended it.

Rosalie was one of the oldest of the Old Girls of the Chalet School, a fact of which she was privately very proud. She had also been school secretary since she was twenty. As a result, there wasn’t much about the school that she didn’t know, to quote her old chum and schoolfellow, Joey Maynard.

She had had a busy morning, followed by an equally busy afternoon. Her work had, moreover, been constantly interrupted by the telephone. The summer term would begin next week and life for her and the two Heads of the school was very full at the moment. She had been hard at it until half-way through the afternoon, when she found that she must break off what she was doing and hurry over to St Mildred’s, the finishing branch of the school, to consult Miss Wilson who was Head there.

On the whole, she should have been glad of the break after being glued to her desk most of the day; but Rosalie was, as she said later, up to the eyes in any case, and she had wanted to polish off her present chores before she turned to anything else. So it was with an impatient exclamation that she pushed aside her correspondence, left the office where she was working, and went to seek hat and coat before making for St Mildred’s. She knew she would find “Bill”, as the whole school called her, there all right. Miss Annersley, the other Head, had gone to Interlaken to interview several future parents for the Christmas term, and at this stage one or other of them was always on tap.

It was the end of April, but the sun was shining brightly and there was a chilly breeze from the north. Rosalie pulled on her beret, found her windcheater and set off. The shortest way was across the playing-fields, so she took it. Between the tennis-courts and the cricket ground was a sturdy hedge of bushes, but there were gaps cut here and there in it for convenience’s sake. Still thinking deeply about the letter which had caused the interruption to her labours, Rosalie dived for the nearest, hurried through, and was suddenly brought up short. There was a group of strange girls on the cricket pitch!

Rosalie stared. Then she woke up to the fact that they seemed to be building a fire. Even as she gazed incredulously, another girl came racing to join them, her arms full of pine twigs which she tossed on the heap already there. Carried by the breeze, her accompanying remark came clearly to the stunned Miss Dene.

“There, my Audrey! Now it is certain that there is enough. You do not wish us to build a—a—feu-de-joie—how do you call him in English?—I forget, me.”

Rosalie woke up at that. She strode across the grass just as the biggest girl of the group was in the act of striking a match, to demand furiously, “Have you all taken leave of your senses? Don’t you know that you are forbidden to light fires in the open on the Platz? And what are you doing in here, in any case? This is private property. It’s all railed off. You must have realised that you were trespassing.”

The girls—there were five of them—turned to stare at her and the match blew out.

“You are trespassing,” Rosalie repeated. “And what do you mean by trying to light a fire on our cricket pitch?”

As she spoke, she stretched out her hand and removed the matches from Audrey’s hand. The girls sprang upright at that, and Audrey herself gave a cry of wrath. “That’s my matchbox! You’ve no right to take it like that! Give it back!”

For reply, Rosalie slipped it into a pocket. “You’ve no right to be here at all. What are you doing here? Who said you might trespass on our playing-fields like this?”

Audrey replied—she was clearly the leader—and her thin cheeks were flushed as she did so. “We wanted to light a fire. We were told we mustn’t do it on the turf outside; but it couldn’t hurt here with the grass as short as it is. How were we to know it was a cricket pitch?”

“I should imagine your own eyes would have told you,” Rosalie said coldly. “The nets are up over there and this has clearly been carefully prepared. But I want to know how you came here. Who said you might?”

“No one! We just came,” Audrey said briefly.

“You did know these grounds were private?”

“Didn’t think of it,” was the airy reply.

“Well,” Rosalie said, restraining her wrath with difficulty, “if you didn’t know before, you know now. Please pick up that mess of wood and take it away at once and don’t come here again. Quickly, please! I’m a busy woman and I’ve no time to waste.”

One of the younger girls spoke up. “And supposing we don’t?” she queried with a smile that matched her cheeky nose and impish blue eyes.

Rosalie merely smiled and said nothing for a moment. There was something in the smile that made the young person flush and her eyes fell. Most of the others looked slightly uncomfortable, too. When she had given them time to feel it, the school secretary replied.

“If you don’t, I shall call the men and have you put out,” she said sweetly. “What’s more, you seem to forget that this is a small place in the Alps. A bunch of English schoolgirls——”

“But me, I am not English!” broke in the girl who had given her Audrey’s first name. “I am French—Norman!”

“I imagined you were French from the way you speak,” Rosalie told her pleasantly. “I can’t say your manners are quite up to standard. However! What I was about to say when you interrupted me was that it will be easy enough to find out who you are and where you are staying. If you come here again, a letter of complaint will be sent to your people.”

“Sneak!” shrilled the smallest of the party.

She was promptly squashed by their leader. “Shut up, Win! Leave this to me!” She faced round on the irate Miss Dene. “I can see you mean what you say. O.K.; we’ll go! But don’t think you’ve heard the last of this, for you haven’t—nor by a long chalk! If we’d known what a beast you were, we’d never have set foot inside your precious grounds. As it is, we’re going—for the moment, anyhow. Come on, you kids! Pick up those twigs and we’ll scram. And I’d like my matches back, please.” She held out her hand.

“When I’ve seen you all safely on to the high-road,” Rosalie told her. “I’m not sure I ought to let you have them. You clearly aren’t responsible enough to have them. To think of lighting a fire up here on a place like this where most of the houses are wood! And the forest of pines is just above! Did you ever think of that?”

There was no reply to this, though Audrey started and looked uneasy. The French girl turned to her. “But what, then, of our campfire, Audrey? May we not have it then? But what shall we do?”

Rosalie’s patience was coming to an end. “Do without!” she said sharply. “Hurry up and clear that wood away. I can’t wait here all day and I’m not going till I’ve seen you all safely off the place. Hurry up!”

“O.K., we’re going. No need to get into such a tizzy about it!” Audrey retorted with a cool impudence that made Rosalie yearn to shake her. “Pick up the twigs over there, Val. Don’t leave a single one to disturb their beloved pitch!”

Val, the girl who had cheeked Rosalie, gave a toss of her red head, but scrabbled together all the oddments they had missed and finally stood up with her hands full. Laden with their firewood, the party moved off to the fence. Rosalie followed, her blue eyes snapping and a very grim look on her face. They climbed the fencing—little Win had to be hauled over, she was so small—and when they were all on the road Rosalie, abandoning her stately dignity, set her hands on the top rail and vaulted neatly over beside them. Not for nothing had she been champion vaulter of the school in her early days. Val’s eyes lit up with unwilling admiration, but the scowl on Audrey’s face never lightened.

“Now,” said Miss Dene when she had escorted them to the high-road, “please remember that all the land within the fencing is private property and don’t trespass again. And if you’re wise, you won’t try to light fires in the open anywhere on the Platz. More people than myself would have something to say about it—especially later on in the year. Remember that we live up here and you don’t. If you want a campfire, go along to the rocks where you can do no harm. But you’ll be wiser if you leave it alone so long as you’re by yourselves. That’s all. Good afternoon!”

She swung off along the road, thinking wrathfully about the time she had had to waste over the episode. She also reminded herself that at present everywhere was still damp after the winter snows and there was little likelihood that, so long as they kept away from the pines, they could do any real harm. At the same time, she felt that it was just as well to have warned off such a bunch of irresponsibles. Then she realised that she still had Audrey’s matches in her pocket, and began to laugh.

“They’ll think I did it on purpose,” she thought as she went on. “I’d better find out where they’re staying and send the things back to them. No need to give them any bigger grievance than I seem to have done already!”

She turned up the path that led to St Mildred’s and, as she did so, caught a glimpse of the party tramping along the road in her wake. As she passed out of earshot, she heard Val’s clarion tones remarking, “So it is a school! Gosh! I wish——”

But by that time, she was beyond the sound and didn’t hear what Val wished.

Miss Dene’s was the first contact with the five. The second occurred on the following Tuesday and can hardly have been said to be even as successful. It was with Len Maynard. As her mother, Joey Maynard, remarked, “It would be Len, of course!”

Joey had sent her eldest girl on a message to little Mme Courvoisier, who lived rather more than half-way along the Platz from Freudesheim, the Maynards’ home. Mme Courvoisier was another Old Girl of the Chalet School. She had joined it at the age of ten and gone through from naughty Junior Middle to responsible prefect. Later she had returned to be history mistress and, thanks to her own fascinating personality, allied to a tongue which was vivid, picturesque and fluent, she had been highly successful. Miss Charlesworth, who had taken over her position when she left some months after her marriage, was wont to say ruefully that try as she would, she could never hope to make the impression on the girls that Biddy O’Ryan had done!

She had met her pleasant Swiss husband over a dramatic event which had occurred quite early in the school’s career in Switzerland.^[1] Then, nearly two years ago now, they had married and the previous June had brought them a twin son and daughter to add to their happiness. Marie and Pat were a great joy to all the girls of the Chalet School, but especially to Len, little Marie’s godmother.

During term-time, Len was usually far too busy to see much of her goddaughter. These holidays, the entire Maynard family had been in England, staying with Mrs Maynard’s sister, Lady Russell. Indeed, the three boys who had followed after the triplet daughters with whom Joey had begun her long family, had gone straight to their prep school from the big house up in the Welsh hills. The triplets returned to school on Thursday and the following week would see the six-year-old twins, Felix and Felicity, Joey’s addition after Michael, her third boy, off to the kindergarten branch, of the school. Mercifully for all concerned, it was only as day-boarders.

“And thank goodness for that!” Joey had said with fervour when she gave Len her commission. “Oh, I know you three do a great deal for yourselves these days, but there’s also a good deal I must do myself. I have all those old cotton frocks that you outgrew years ago to alter for Felicity. I tried her own on her just before we went off and they were mere frills round her tummy. You people are all so leggy! Luckily, there’s Cecil coming along, so Felicity’s frocks won’t be wasted. Here’s the note and wait for an answer. Now scram! Oh, by the way, Aunt Hilda was on the phone to me last night and she was full of a weird yarn about a gang of girls staying up here who seem to have declared war on the school. Keep your eyes open and you may see them.”

The said eyes looked ready to drop out as it was. “Declared war on us? For goodness’ sake, why?”

“Something to do with Aunt Rosalie, I believe. I couldn’t pay much attention, for Geoff was whimpering—I had him in my arms—and I missed a lot of it. I’ve told you all I know.”

“O.K. I’ll keep my weather eye lifting. But what a yell! It sounds like a repeat of that yarn you used to tell us of the Balbini twins, when the school was in Tirol.”^[2]

“Good Heavens! I’d forgotten all about that. You’re right, though; it does. They called themselves ‘The Mystic M’,” Joey continued in reminiscent tones. “What demons they were! Let’s hope this crew doesn’t do the outrageous things those imps did!” Her voice changed again. “Will you look at the time? For goodness’ sake, girl, stop nattering and be off!”

Lon went—with a giggle. All the same, she kept a look-out for any strange girls who might be about. She saw none on the way to the pretty Courvoisier chalet. She delivered her note and Biddy regaled her with creamy chocolate and tiny cakes as well as a peep at the twins, who were taking their mid-morning nap. Then, duly armed with a reply for her mother, Len said goodbye and set off for home.

She still kept looking round for the strange girls, but they were nowhere in sight.

“I wonder if they were just down from one of the upper shelves for the day when Aunt Rosalie met them?” she pondered. “I haven’t had a sniff at them so far.”

She had reached the railway by this time, and crossed the footway of planking that guarded the electric rails. Len climbed the steep pitch that led the high-road down to the line and then paused. She could either take the high-road home; or she could go by what the school called “the back road”. She chose the latter route.

This meant crossing the shelf to the mountain wall, at this part thickly furred with pinewoods, and turning into the pathway that served the dozen or so chalets tucked away under the wooded slopes. She laughed and turned to race across the springy turf, her long, curly pony-tail of chestnut hair flapping wildly behind her. When she reached the path, she slowed down to a rather more decorous walk. She had passed the first two chalets, standing matily side by side, and had nearly reached the third, separated from them by a little stretch of grazing where a couple of goats were already tethered, when there came a crashing sound from the pinewoods immediately above. Wild screams accompanied it, and then a fair-haired girl of about thirteen came in sight, tearing madly down between the black pine trunks and clearly quite unable to stop herself. She was shrieking at the top of her voice and Len dived forward just in time to catch her and check the headlong flight.

“Steady on!” she said, gripping the stranger’s arm and steadying her quite literally. “There! You’re O.K. now! What possessed you to try to run through the trees like that? The ground’s as slippery as glass with all the fallen pine-needles and you might have crashed into a tree and brained yourself.”

The girl had stopped screaming, though her breath was still coming in gasps. She drew away from Len and announced between the gasps, “Moi, je suis française.”

“Vraiment?” Len promptly recast her remarks in French, which she spoke like a native, having been accustomed to using it almost as much as English from her baby days, to say nothing of a year spent in Canada at a French convent school. The stranger jumped and stared at her with wide eyes of the colour known to Normans as “perce”—bluish-grey, more blue than grey, and very lovely when truly “perces” as these were.

When Len finished, she said calmly and in English, “But also, I understand zee English and I spik him very well. And for zee running, I did not know zat zee ground was—was glacée, so I r-ran. Zen I could not stop and zat is all.”

“That’s what I said,” Len returned in her own tongue. “What did you run for, anyhow?”

“What’s that got to do with you?” another voice demanded.

Len turned and saw a cluster of girls standing further back. There was a tallish one who might be her own age or a year younger. A small person who looked the same age as Felix and Felicity clung to her hand. On either side of the pair was a girl who was obviously of Junior Middle age. It was the tallest girl who had spoken. She was looking at Len with acute dislike in her eyes and that young woman instantly jumped to it that this was the “gang” of which her mother had spoken.

The French girl had left her and moved over to join the group. Without waiting for any reply from Len the tall girl—Audrey, of course—swung round on her. “What an ass you are, Solly! You can’t go racing down slopes as steep as that regardless. You might have had a sticky accident!”

Solly—Len was stunned by the name; what could it stand for?—nodded. “But zat I know, my Audree. It has come like this. I run and zen I cannot stop. I go faster—faster—faster! Ah, but it is ter-r-rible! I zink I must go on and on and on until I fall over zee edge of zee Platz, down to zee valley là-bas! Mais quelle horreur!”

“Well, you weren’t in the least likely to do that,” Len said bluntly. “It’s much too far away. But as I told you, you might easily have knocked yourself out against one of the tree trunks; or fallen and sprained an ankle or something. Honestly, it isn’t safe!”

“And who are you to tell us what is safe and what isn’t?” Audrey demanded insolently. “You’re English and you’ve just come. You don’t know any more about it than we do. Probably not as much!”

Len grinned. “That’s where your toes turn in. I’ve lived up here since I was a kid of ten. My father’s one of the doctors at the San yonder.” She jerked her ruddy head towards the furthest end of the Görnetz Platz.

“Which doctor?” red-headed Val demanded.

“Dr Maynard. I’m Len Maynard. Who are you crowd?”

“Never you mind! It’s not your business!” Audrey retorted rudely.

Len raised her eyebrows. “Oh, it’s like that, is it? O.K. It couldn’t matter less, so far as I’m concerned.”

She made to pass them, but at a gesture from Audrey they strung out across the path so that she must either dodge about, stay where she was, or turn back. The first and last she was determined not to do. She decided that they must be staying at one of the two pensions lately opened for the benefit of people who had relations or friends in the Sanatorium. She knew that the midday meal there was served at 12.30 p.m. sharp and latecomers were not looked on with any favour. The Freudesheim midday meal was 1 p.m. or, if you used the time form of mid-Europe as they did up here, 13.00. Even if she had to stay until this set of asses departed for Mittagessen, she would be in plenty of time. Len looked at them and her grin was annoying.

“And what d’you think is the good of that?” she inquired. “Baby tricks!”

The scorn in her voice brought scarlet to Audrey’s thin cheeks. “You do think you’re somebody, don’t you?” she snapped. “Well, I’m here to tell you that you’re not.”

“Oh, I couldn’t possibly think that,” Len said suavely. “I’ve never had a chance of it.” She eyed them, grinning again. Then she let them have it. “You see, I’ve never been an only one—or not after the first half-hour. I’m the eldest of triplets.”

“Triplets!” The exclamation came from Val, and the other girl, who had not spoken so far, echoed it.

Audrey hushed them at once. “Pipe down, you two! Val—Celia! You shut up and leave this to me.”

Val laughed, but Celia, who was obviously a sister, so like was she to lanky Audrey with her brown eyes and hair and creamy colouring, shot a look of resentment at her elder. Audrey took no notice. She swung round on Len again.

“I couldn’t care less if you’re a trip or a quad or a quin. I just don’t think enough of you for that.”

“O.K. That’s as you please, of course.” Len was maddeningly pleasant over it and Audrey flushed again.

Little Win suddenly took a hand. “We loathe you—that is if you go to that beastly school,” she informed Len. “Do you?”

“Well of course. It’s the only one there is up here—except for the one the kids from the villages round go to. But why do you loathe it? You’ve only just come so you can’t know the first thing about it. I know you weren’t here when term ended, so you can’t have been up more than a fortnight or so and we’ve all been away. So what’s the point?”

Win had no answer to that. She had simply been repeating what she had heard her elders say. Val took it up while Audrey, literally speechless with rage at the moment, stood stockstill, glaring at everyone in turn.

“Because we just do,” she said. “Any foreign school must be rotten compared with an English one. It stands to reason.”

Celia suddenly looked up. “Well, they do play cricket,” she reminded Val. “That woman said so.”

“Oh, yes; with a soft ball, no doubt!” Audrey sneered, finding her tongue again. “Anyhow, you keep out of this, Celia. I’m doing the talking.”

Celia subsided, but the glance she shot her sister boded no good for the future peace of their party. Audrey paid no attention. She turned to the others and said in French with a good British accent, “We’ve told her what we think of her and her beastly school. We may as well let her go now. But we’ll play fair. We’ll tell her that we’re against them——”

At this point, Len laughed out loud. She couldn’t help it. “It’s no use trying to talk privately in French before me—or any of us, for that matter,” she said. “We all speak it more or less—two days a week at school——”

“What?” gasped the irrepressible Val. “Lessons—and games—and—and Prayers and everything?”

“Well of course,” Len said serenely. “That’s one of the ideas. They turn us out trilingual. French two days a week; German two days a week; English two days a week. Go as you please on Sundays. I must say,” she added with a chuckle, “that some of us talk a lot more on Sundays than any other day.”

“And also,” Solly—what on earth was the girl’s proper name?—put in, “she says that at home they speak both French and English and have done so all their lives.” She spoke in French very slowly and clearly so that even Val and Celia could understand.

Len could bear it no longer. “Solly!” she said impulsively, “what is your name—your proper name, I mean?”

Solly looked wicked. Then she said slowly and with an eye on Len, “I am Solange-Marie-Louise-Germaine-Anne de Chaumontel.”

It might have floored some people, but Len had a good many French friends and she was quite accustomed to hearing that they bore a whole string of Christian names. She fastened on the first.

“Solange?” she said eagerly. “Oh, but that’s pretty! It really is awfully pretty! Mamma will be thrilled with it!”

“Mais pourquoi?” Solange demanded while the others stared in amazement.

“Oh, she’s always on the outlook for unusual names. She wants them for her books, you see.”

“Oh, fiddle!” Audrey interrupted, having by this time recovered from the shock she had received on hearing the whole of Solange’s lengthy name. “We’re not interested in your mother, or her books, or anything to do with you. We loathe the lot of you and we’ll show you that, too. Now we’ve done with you for the present. Come on, kids! Dinner-time!”

She led the wild scramble which followed as they all made a rush for the highway, leaving Len chuckling to herself. It was all very funny to the eldest Maynard.

The five were returning from a picnic at the little shelf on which stood the village—or hamlet, for it was little more—of Ste Cécilie. It was some six miles or so from the Görnetz Platz, but they could take their own time over the walk and the elder ones would carry Win when she tired. Their grown-ups were all fully occupied and as long as they were careful not to go too near the edge and promised not to take silly risks, there didn’t seem to be much mischief they could get into. Audrey was almost fifteen and responsible enough where her juniors were concerned.

Two rules were laid down for them, apart from the taking no risks, which was only common sense. They must promise to obey Audrey when it came to an argument; and they were to keep to the Görnetz Platz. If they wanted to go further afield, leave must be asked first.

Since the stormy meeting with Len, they had kept a sharp look-out for her and anyone else who might be connected with the school. But today Audrey had asked permission for them to picnic at Ste Cécilie and it had been given very readily, once Mrs Everett—Audrey, Celia and small Win were all three Everetts and Val’s name was Gardiner—had made inquiries and found out that it was as safe as their own shelf.

“Yes, you may go,” she told her eldest daughter. “Mind you get back by six so that Win goes to bed at her proper time. I needn’t say any more about not going into danger. I wish it were possible for you to have lessons in the morning,” she went on, more to herself than Audrey, “but at present it seems impossible.”

What she did not say—and in some ways, it was a pity she did not—was that arrangements had been made for all five to go to the Chalet School when the Christmas term began. Mrs Everett had done her best to persuade Miss Annersley to accept the four elders for the coming term, but the Head had been obliged to refuse. The Chalet School never liked to take girls at the last term of the school year. Apart from that, the school had its full complement of pupils and a few over. If it had been a question of one girl or even two, Miss Annersley would have tried to stretch a point. Four were out of the question!

The result of this was that the girls were turned out to grass, and so long as they turned up for meals, clean and tidy and in time; did not upset any of the other inhabitants of the Pension Caramie; and kept to the rule about remaining on the Platz, no one worried much about them.

Mr Everett had been brought to the Sanatorium in very bad shape and his wife was deeply absorbed in him. Valerie’s brother, Peter, was there with a diseased hip-joint which, it was hoped, the doctors there could relieve considerably. Solly of the lengthy name was with the aunt who was her guardian at present, and who had come here to be with her own twin sister who was slowly dying, though at the moment there seemed to be a lull in the treacherous disease and she was well enough to be out on the verandah of the great sanatorium.

Needless to state, none of the girls knew how serious the three cases were. Audrey the eldest, however, sometimes wondered about her father. The others, even Solange, were too young and thoughtless to worry and Audrey kept her thoughts and fears to herself.

On this day, she had largely managed to forget all her troubles and had been as wild and gay as the younger ones. They had set off early so as to have the whole day, and by the time Audrey remembered Win’s bedtime, she bore little resemblance to the stormy young firebrand Miss Dene and Len had met.

They were strolling back over the road running by Ste Valérie and on to the Görnetz Platz when Val, who had ears like a wolf, suddenly exclaimed, “Motor coming! I can hear it!”

There was not a great deal of traffic along the high-road, which had been built in the first place for the transport of invalids. All the same, Audrey called the others off it and cautiously parked them behind a big thorn bush growing at this end of the Ste Valérie shelf. They could all hear the noise now and it was plain that there was more than one vehicle. They stood gazing, and then Val and Celia exclaimed as round the curve of the road rolled a big motor-coach, packed with girls. The windows were down and they could hear the hum of voices and laughter as it passed them. It was followed by five others, and each one was crowded to its fullest extent.

By this time, they were all agog, even Audrey who, at sight of the first, had assumed her scowl. Little Win was so excited that she was dancing up and down and Audrey had to keep a firm grip on her or she might have been out into the road. As it was, the excited girls in the coaches never saw any of them. The five waited until the last coach had lumbered out of sight before they left their bush and came out on the road again.

“It’s that horrid school!” Win cried. “They’ve come back!”

“But I say!” Celia exclaimed. “Did you see? There must be droves of them—literally droves!”

“Hundreds!” Val put her word in. “It’s a huge school, isn’t it? And all ages, too. One of those coaches had nothing but very big girls in it and the next had girls of our age. Did you see, Audrey?”

“I saw,” Audrey said briefly. “You’ll have to discuss it later. There’s no time now for nattering if Win’s to be in by bedtime. If we’re awfully late, we mayn’t get leave to go off again in a hurry, so we’d better scram. Take my basket, will you, Solly? Win, you get on to my back and I’ll carry you. We can’t dither at your pace. I’ve left it latish this evening.”

Her hint about their being tied to the Platz was quite enough. Solly took her basket and Celia and Val between them got Win on to her back. Then they set off as fast as they could and arrived only ten minutes after six. Mrs Everett was at the Sanatorium, so easy-going Mrs Gardiner told Audrey.

“You get Win straight off to bed,” she advised. “She looks half-asleep as it is. Sandman coming, Win? Off you go with Audrey. Val shall bring your milk and biscuits upstairs in a moment.”

Tired Win made no fuss for a wonder. She went off meekly with Audrey and, in fact, nearly fell asleep over her prayers. She did drowse off over her milk. Audrey removed the beaker from her grasp and set it down on the bedside table before she closed the window curtains. She tiptoed out of the room and found that Celia and Val had just finished their supper and were off to bed themselves, nearly as tired as Win with the long day in the invigorating air. Only Solange was left, and after dinner she and Audrey took their books and went off to a corner they knew where they could read in peace. Mme Charlot always spent the early evening with her sister and Solly was under promise to go to bed at half past eight if her aunt had not returned by then.

For a few minutes, they read in silence. Then Solange, who much preferred chatter to reading, laid down her book and tried to coax Audrey into speaking French with her.

“Talk to me,” she coaxed. “Me, I am tired of this stupid book. It is all about such good girls and is ter-ribly dull! But Tante Ursule thinks no other fitting for la jeune fille bien-élevée!”

Audrey leaned back against the rock behind which they were sitting. “I wish you’d talk English. Solly. French is too hard for me.”

“But English is too hard for me!” Solly retorted with a toss of her fair curls. “I have spoken him all day and now it is my turn. Tell me more about this Camp Fire of which you spoke. You have said nothing—but nothing since the day we tried to light one and that unpleasant person drove us away from the—the cricket pitch. But what an odd name for a piece of grass! But no matter! Tell me of the Camp Fire.”

“I’ve told you most of what I know,” Audrey said impatiently. “I never joined it, though I was going to when it starts in September. It was quite a new thing, you know. We had a new mistress at the school—an American. She came on that exchange business the schools have——”

“But how? I do not comprehend and I have not heard of it, me.”

“Oh, so many teachers from English schools go for one or two years to teach in American schools and they send their teachers to us in exchange. I don’t really know how long it lasts, but I know Miss Dwight was going to stay all next year—she said so. Our Miss Jones went to America in her place, you see.”

“But indeed I did not know of this. Why do you do it?”

“Search me! To make the two countries more pally, perhaps. Anyhow, we had Miss Dwight and did we like her!” Audrey was sticking to English as she warmed to her subject and Solly, with a little resigned sigh, did her best to follow her. “She’s most awfully jolly and she teaches awfully well, though she did seem a bit startled at first at the sort of work we were doing. I think Yankee schools must have lower standards than ours. Anyhow,” she went on, just in time to prevent Solly from asking what she meant, “one day when we were going for a geography walk——”

Solly did manage to interrupt here. “But how a geography walk, if you please?”

“Oh, you learn something in lessons like the—the lay-out of the land—where the hills and rivers are and so on—and then you go for a walk somewhere with the geography mistress and she shows it to you. That’s the general idea. Anyhow, we were out and when we were coming back, some of the others began talking about the Guides to Miss Dwight and asking if they had them in America.”

“The Guides? But what Guides?” Solly looked bewildered.

“Oh, you know about them, surely? Miss Spender who takes French at school told us that you have them in France. Half a sec! What did she call them? I know! Les Éclaireuses! You know them, don’t you?”

“But yes; I know les Éclaireuses,” Solly agreed. “Did you have them at your school? Are you one? But no; or you would be wearing the badge.”

“Mother and Dad wouldn’t let me join. The meetings were on Friday night after school. Guides took tea to school and the meetings came after that—from five till half-past six. We live out in the country, about three-and-a-half miles from the town and you have to walk the last half-mile. They said it would be too late for me in the winter when it was pitch dark in the lanes. So I never joined, worse luck!”

“Ah, I comprehend. And what did this Miss Dwight say?”

“She said they did have them, only they call them Girl Scouts in America. She said she had never been one because their church ran a Camp Fire and she belonged to that.”

“Yes; you did speak of a Camp Fire, but Val asked so many questions and I could not comprehend. Explain to me now, please.”

“It’s a kind of thing like Guides,” Audrey explained, none too lucidly. “They dress up like Red Indians and they sit round a fire. Ordinary people are Woodgathers. Then the next rank is—is Firemaker. The last is Torch-Bearer. Oh, and the boss of the show is called the Guardian. They have three tapers that they call the Light of Work, the Light of Health and the Light of Love. There’s a sort of password—‘Wohelo’. It’s made up of the first two letters of each of the Lights, you see.”

Audrey paused and Solly hurriedly spelt the word out. “W-o-h-e-l-o. I see that. But continue, my Audree.”

“Well, you do things like knitting and crocheting and sewing. And they go in for piles of Nature work—‘craft’, they call it.”

“But how, if you please?”

“Well, like knowing so many different kinds of flowers and the ways the birds sing and—and things like that. When they have meetings—Councils, they call them—they are given beads for having done so much at things. Miss Dwight showed us her strings of beads and they were marvellous!”

“Did she wear them always out of school?” Solly asked eagerly.

“No; of course not. They belonged to the Camp Fire. They weren’t like ornaments. Oh, and she showed us her headband. They make their own in beadwork, you know—weaving, sort of. And she showed us her Red Indian gown—some yellowish stuff with all sorts of symbols embroidered on it and round the hem another band of beadwork. And she told us her Indian name——”

“But how? How an Indian name?” Solly sounded thoroughly mystified by this time and small blame to her! Audrey’s explanations were a terribly jumbled-up mass.

“Why, when you first join, you choose an Indian name like—like—well, Minnehaha out of Hiawatha.” Solly’s mouth fell open, but Audrey paid no heed. She went on eagerly. “You write your own name on a scrap of paper and burn it in the Camp Fire and say you aren’t Mary or Jane or whatever it is any more, but Minnehaha.”

“Oh?”

“It all sounded marvellous. Some of us who weren’t Guides got awfully keen and Miss Dwight said if we liked—enough of us, that is—and the Head would agree, she would start a Camp Fire for us. The Head said we might so long as it didn’t interfere with our schoolwork. It was to be on Saturday morning. Mum said I might join as it was a morning affair and there were about fifteen of us who wanted it. We couldn’t do anything about it last term because we never heard of it till halfway through the term, but Miss Dwight is starting it and then we had to come to Switzerland because of Dad and I’m out of it all.”

There was bitter resentment in Audrey’s voice as she ended. What Solly could not know was how much she had longed to join the Guides, and how disappointed she had been when her parents had firmly refused because of the long dark walk it would entail on winter evenings. When this new scheme had been mooted, she had leapt at it. Not only would it be possible for her to attend the meetings, but all she had heard about it appealed greatly to her. To have had to come away and, even if she joined when they went back to England, be behind all the others had given her a deep grievance.

She had read every book about Camp Fire on which she could lay hands, including some half-dozen of Elsie Oxenham’s stories. She remembered that in one three girls had begun a private camp of their own, since there was not enough of them to form an official camp. She had decided to try to get up the same sort of thing out here. She had the official handbook with her and the famous fire which had started the trouble with the school had been intended for a kind of initiation for them. But Miss Dene had put a stop to it and, since then, Audrey had held her tongue about it. This had been partly on account of the anxiety about her father. Mrs Everett had said nothing definite even to her eldest girl as yet, but Audrey, under all her would-be “hard-boiled” manner, was very sensitive and she felt that something was far more wrong than they had been told. Partly, too, it had been because she was so angry over the thwarted fire, that it had obsessed her mind and she could think mainly only of how she was to get her own back on the school to which Miss Dene belonged. Audrey, it is to be feared, had a most unpraiseworthy habit of holding a grudge.

What more she might have said was never known, for at that moment, one of the doctors drove past and in his car were Mrs Everett and Mme Charlot. The sight of her mother’s grave face drove all thoughts of Camp Fire or the Chalet School out of Audrey’s mind. She jumped up and ran to the verandah steps and Solly followed, and their talk was ended for the time being.

“Well? Any news?” Betty Landon, who had been sprawling in a big chair, sat up and regarded Len Maynard hopefully. It was after Abendessen, as the school called supper. The Juniors and Junior Middles had all been marched off to bed. The Senior Middles were making the most of the half-hour left to them; and the Seniors were doing likewise, though they had longer.

Len grinned. “Betty Landon, you’re the most inquisitive girl who ever entered the precincts of this school—and that’s saying something! What sort of news? The twins can produce quite toothy grins now and are having a rest from teething—we hope! Phyll is beginning to walk. She hangs on to things, but she gets around on her own arched insteps. Geoff’s slower. Papa says boys usually are. Oh, and they’re both——”

“Pipe down!” Betty ordered. “You know well enough that isn’t what I meant. Not that I’m not delighted to hear Geoff and Phyll are going on so well. I am.”

Len’s violet-grey eyes were dancing with wickedness. “Yes; they’re quite forward for their age. They won’t be a year old till June, you know.”

“Quite so. Well now, you quit that subject and tell me the public news. As a start, how’s Naomi going on?”

“Splendidly! They’re talking of getting her out of bed on to a sofa in a week or two. And oh, Betty, Papa told us that though it’s going to be a very slow business, the last op. has been a complete success. She’s practically straight now and once she’s on to her feet, she won’t limp or need a stick. Isn’t it wonderful?”

Betty nodded vehemently. “I should say it is! Will she be quite normal—I mean, will she be able to dance and play games and live just like the rest of us?”

“She’ll always have to be careful not to overdo and her back may be weak for a long time yet. Barring accidents, though, it’ll come. The doctors all think that by the time she is in her twenties, she’ll be quite all right.”

“And when will she come back to school? She only had a term here—not that, for that last accident was at the end of March last year.”^[3]

“I don’t think she’ll come back here at all. She’s seventeen now, and it’ll be months still before she leaves the San. Probably not before next Christmas. They can’t say definitely yet. But she really is pulling up now.”

“Good! I’m glad to hear that!” Betty’s tone altered and she lowered her voice and glanced round the room as she asked, “What about Ruey Richardson’s dad? Has there been any news of him?”

Len shook her head. “None. And don’t say anything to her about it.”

“As if I would! Len Maynard! What sort of an ass do you think me?”

“Not an ass, but given to curiosity,” Len said sweetly. “Snap out of it, Betty. I was just warning you. Ruey doesn’t say anything, but goodness knows how she feels inside. Now I must scram and make sure that those imps in my dormy are really going to bed and not playing about. Be seeing you!”

She jumped up and ran off to Pansy dormitory, of which she was prefect. Here she was seized on by Jack Lambert from IIIa and, as most people knew, once Jack had Len to herself, she did not release her easily.

Jack had come new to the school the previous term and had speedily made for herself a reputation for wickedness second to none. She was brimful of mischief and since to think of a thing was to do it, where she was concerned, she had gone from one scrape to another. Len, as her dormitory prefect, had felt responsible for her to a certain extent, and Jack had seen to it that Len, whom she adored, though she would have died rather than say so, had plenty to do on her behalf.

As a result, Len forgot all about the Five. Con, Margot and Ruey were too full of their own concerns and the holiday doings of their friends to remember. When these failed them as subjects of conversation, there were the summer games to discuss—the cricket elevens and the tennis sixes; the question of how soon they would be going down to Lake Thun for boating and swimming. Finally—and a long way last—quite a number of them had to face the fact that this was exam term and the public examinations would be taking place in a couple of months or so.

With all this, they had plenty to discuss and no one even thought of other schoolgirls being on the Platz—nor that those same girls had sworn a deathless vendetta against them. And, needless to state, Rosalie Dene was far too busy with her office work even to think of it.

Next day was the first Friday of term and always a busy day. School proper began on the Monday and, once the various timetables were in full swing, everyone was fully occupied. Matron claimed them, form by form, for unpacking. In-between-whiles, the mistresses came to give out homework for Monday and Tuesday of the coming week. By Mittagessen, however, that part of the work was out of the way. It was a gloriously fine day and Miss Annersley, the Head, decided to send the girls for rambles.

These rambles were a feature of the Chalet School. They really were rambles, once the girls were away from the Görnetz Platz. Middles and Juniors went in charge of mistresses and so did the two lower Fifth forms. The rest were often allowed to go unescorted. They were regarded as having some common sense, and so long as they did not go far from the Platz, remembered that there were other people up there besides the school, and gave their word of honour to do nothing foolhardy, they were trusted. It must be said that, so far, the trust had been fully deserved.

On this occasion, Va decided that they would like to go up the mountain-path to the Rösleinalp, the shelf above the Görnetz Platz. The path ran along their side of the railway and, though a steepish climb, was perfectly safe for seniors. They easily got permission and, as soon as the rest period which always followed Mittagessen had ended, they scurried off to get ready.

“Wish we could have Kaffee und Kuchen up there,” Joan Baker grumbled as they went out to report themselves to the first escort mistress they could find.

“Oh, Joan! Do use your sense!” Heather Clayton exclaimed. “How could we possibly? It’s only the first full day of term!”

“I’d forgotten that,” Joan said, reddening. “O.K. We’ll have to put up with it and be back in time.”

“And do speak French,” Jo Scott, the form prefect, put in. “Yes; I know we don’t have to until Monday, but seeing that we all can speak it more or less, we might as well hoe in now and get some practice.”

Mdlle de Lachennais, head of languages at the school, came in sight just then and sparkled at them when Jo asked, in the best French she could muster, if they might go.

“But certainly,” she said. “Do not be late for Kaffee und Kuchen, pray. I must remind you, mes filles, that this is the last term for most of our Sixth Forms and when they go, the prefects will be among them and we shall need new ones for whom we must seek among you. So it is well if this term you girls become responsible and set an example to the younger ones, n’est-ce pas? Adieu, mes filles! Amusez-vous bien!” She waved them off and they filed past her and Upper IVa on their most proper behaviour.

So long as they were on the Platz, they must go in crocodile and talk very quietly. Everyone knew the school and, as they had been told all too frequently in their earlier days, it would be judged by their behaviour in public. When they were out by themselves, the Seniors were generally careful to observe the rule.

Once they had reached the railway and turned up the path that led to the upper shelves, they broke up into pairs and groups. Len Maynard, Ruey Richardson, Rosamund Lilley and Ted Grantley led the way. Con Maynard, Richenda Fry and Odette Mercier came next. Betty Landon went off with her bosom friend, Alicia Leonard. The rest followed. At the back of the long string came Jo Scott and, with her, Joan Baker.

Joan Baker was a misfit in some ways. She was older than the rest and her earlier upbringing had been very different from most of theirs. She had arrived with a set of cheap ideas, impudent ways of speech and manner, and more than inclined to scoff at things the rest had had engrained from their babyhood. Even her time at the school had not altogether eradicated all this. Three years of the best school when you are in the teens cannot wipe out fourteen years or so of poor home-training.

She was pretty in a commonplace way and, though association with the rest had toned her down considerably, she still had a hankering for showy clothes, make-up much heavier than the school would permit to even its seniors, and a certain craving for sophistication of the wrong kind. Mercifully, she had little or no chance to indulge this sort of thing at school, but the more thoughtful of her form-mates were convinced that she made up for that during the holidays.

Among those to realise what was wrong was Jo Scott. When they were arranging for partners, she had suddenly remembered that this was Joan’s last term at school. She was going on to a business college in the autumn, with the idea of taking up secretarial work when she had gained her diplomas. With two languages besides her own to offer, and a smattering of Spanish into the bargain, she ought to secure a good post when she was ready.

“But,” Jo thought, “she’ll never keep it if she doesn’t get some sense—not the kind of post Elinor Pennell, for instance, is hoping for. I know Joan hasn’t Elinor’s brains, but after all, she’s one of us. I’d better see what I can do about it.”

Hence, when the files broke up, Jo had slipped a hand through Joan’s arm and said, “Come on, Joan! We’ll play sheepdog, shall we?”

Joan turned a surprised face on her. She was pleased, all the same. Jo Scott was a leader among them and any girl in Va would have been delighted to be her chosen partner.

“Are you looking forward to starting your career?” Jo asked as they followed the others up the narrow path.

“Rather!” Joan spoke with conviction. “It’ll be jolly decent to be on my own and have my own money to spend as I like.”

“It’s secretarial work, isn’t it? What sort of post would you like?” Jo queried.

“Oh, with someone in a big way of business. You get a good screw and a chance to meet with all sorts. If your boss does much travelling, you may have to go with him and then you get a chance to see the world. Yes; I’m looking forward to it on the whole. Besides,” she added, surprising herself as well as Jo by making the confidence, “Dad couldn’t afford to keep me here much longer. He and Mum were awfully down in the hols. You see, we didn’t use to be rich, only Dad had a big win on the Pools—well, not so big as some, but quite a bit. Grandad made him invest some of it, so’s whatever happened, he’d always have a bit to fall back on. He and Mum have been spending the rest, though, and have they made the money fly! I guess there’s not an awful lot left and I have a kid sister, Pam, who ought to stay at school for another two or three years. She’s only thirteen now and she says she wants to be a teacher and go to college and get a degree and it all takes money. Dad says he’ll pay for my business training, but after that I’ve got to stand on my own feet, so I’ve got to have a decent job and the sooner the better. After all, I’m just on eighteen.”

“I see,” Jo said thoughtfully. “I’d like to go in for gardening in a big way myself, and grow flowers for the market. That means a horticultural college, but I don’t know if it’ll come off.”

“Why not?” Joan asked quickly.

“Because it all depends on whether Mummy wants me when I finish school. You know what happened years ago, and she’s never been really strong since.^[4] I may be needed at home. I hope not; but if I am, well, Dad says he’ll make it up to me somehow—oh, goodness!” She broke off so suddenly that Joan jumped. “Look at that infant trying to climb the bank! She mustn’t! If she fell on the other side from the top she might land on the live rail and get frizzled! Hi, there, you infant! Come down at once!”

The “infant”—Win Everett, needless to say—stopped for a moment, hanging on to a bush near by, and turned, nearly losing her balance in the effort. She just saved herself and then, to the stupefaction of the two big girls, she put out a small pink tongue at them.

“Shan’t! You’re not my bosses!” she announced.

“Well! Of all the sauce!” gasped Joan.

Jo said nothing. She acted instead. With a hasty “Stand by to catch her if she falls!” to Joan, she scrambled up the bank in short order and caught the young monkey by her skirts—Win had torn her slacks the day before and had had to wear a frock today.

“Let go!” she shrieked, wriggling so violently that she nearly sent her rescuer and herself rolling down on top of Joan. “I won’t be bossed! I won’t! Let me go!”

“Keep still, you silly little ass!” Jo said breathlessly as she steadied herself and Win just in time. “Here, Joan. If I lower her, can you grab her?”

“O.K. Let her down and I’ll catch her,” Joan replied.

It was no easy matter, but Jo got the fat hands free from the bush, lifted the midget clear, and then lowered her to Joan, who caught her safely. Win yelled blue murder the whole time, but it was done at last and she stood on the path between the two big girls who each held a wrist firmly. Win wiggled and twisted, but vainly. She was a prisoner.

“Now what do we do with her?” Joan demanded.

She was answered by Len Maynard and her satellites who had fallen back behind the others and, hearing the noise, came flying to find out the cause.

“It’s this silly kid,” Joan explained. “She was climbing the bank, so Jo went to fetch her back in case she got frizzled on the live rail——”

“One of that lot!” Len said, breaking in. “I’ve met them.” She turned to Win, who had stopped roaring for the moment. “What are you doing here by yourself? Where are the others?”

Win glared at her out of blue eyes from which tears of rage were streaming. “They’ve gone away an’ left me, an’ I don’t like it, an’ I came here—an’ I want to see what’s at the other side—an’ it’s no business of yours, eiver!” She fell into her baby speech, she was so furious.

“Do you know who she is, Len?” Jo asked. “What had we better do? We can’t leave her here—a kid like that.”

“There’s a gang of them,” Len said in rapid French so that Win should not understand. “This is the youngest. I’d forgotten them, there’s been so much else to think about. I’ll tell you later. Meanwhile, we’ll have to take her back—or I must. There are five of them—a girl about our age called Audrey and two at eleven or twelve—Val and Celia——”

“Audrey and Celia are my sisters,” Win put in with some complacency as she caught the names.

Len gasped. “Not really? You aren’t in the least like them! Well, that’s the lot, except for a French girl they all call Solly. Her real name is Solange. They’re staying at the Pension Caramie and for some reason or other, they’ve sworn a vendetta against the school—I don’t know why.” She turned her gaze on Win whose cheeks had cooled to their natural pink and who, with her fair curls, wide blue eyes and short, uptilted features, looked not unlike one of Sir Joshua Reynolds’ “Cherub Choir”. “I should never have taken you for a sister of Audrey and Celia.”

“Oh, well,” Joan said, “come to that, quite a lot of you Maynards are unlike each other.”

“Oh, never mind all that!” Jo burst out, exasperated. “What I want to know is what we’re to do with this monkey.”

“That’s O.K. I’ll take her back to the Pension myself. We certainly can’t leave her here!”

“Yes, I see that. But if you go, you’d better have someone with you. You know the rules as well as I do. You’re at school now, even if you do live up here in the hols.”

“I’ll go with her!” Ted Grantley exclaimed. “Yes; I don’t mind missing the ramble for once. By the time this imp is left at the Pension Caramie, it’ll be hours too late to set off after the rest of you. We’d better drop her, Len, and then go and report back at school.”

Len nodded. “It’s the only thing to do. Oh, Win, what a pest you are! O.K., Jo. We’ll do that. And you’d better get off and join the rest. They’ll have reached Oberhofen before you do unless you hurry.”

There seemed to be nothing else for it. Jo murmured to Len as she and Joan left them, “Hang on to her or she’ll be off again.”

As that was exactly what Win had been meditating, the warning was timely. The two big girls took her hands firmly and she had nothing to do but to go with them. They marched her down to the Platz and got her safely to the Pension Caramie, where they found Mrs Gardiner who agreed to take charge of her. She explained that the other four had all gone down to Interlaken with Mrs Everett to be fitted with sandals. Win had been left behind because she had felt sick the day before. The mistress of the Pension had agreed to look after her, but naughty Win had slipped off as soon as her back was turned for a moment.

“She’ll either promise me to stay with me,” Mrs Gardiner remarked, looking at the truant pointedly, “or I’ll get some rope and tie her up. Thank you so much for bringing her back.” She smiled at Len. “You’re one of Dr Maynard’s girls, aren’t you? You’re very like your mother in some ways. You can’t stay for coffee and cakes, I suppose?”

“Oh, no, thank you all the same,” Len said quickly. “We were out with a school ramble and we must go back to school and report. But it’s very kind of you to think of it, isn’t it, Ted?”

“Very kind indeed,” Ted said earnestly. “But Len’s right. The Head or someone must know we’ve left the ramble.”

They said good afternoon and went off to report to Miss Dene, who was in the office. She heard them out. Then she laughed.

“I’m afraid this silly feud is partly my fault. No, I haven’t time to tell you now. Come to me this evening and I’ll give you the yarn. At present, I must get on with this telephoning, and you two had better take your books somewhere till the rest come back.”

However, they were fated not to hear the beginning of it that day, for Rosalie was busy in the office much later than usual and, when work was over for the day, an urgent message took her off to visit Biddy Courvoisier and they saw no more of her. Len told the remainder of Va all she did know and they had to wait for the rest.

“Silly goops!” was the general opinion when they had heard all she had to say.

Margot Maynard who had joined them, though she was not Va, demanded scornfully, “And what do they think they can do to us?”

But that was something no one could tell her—then.

Win got into trouble all round for her escapade. Mrs Gardiner might be easy-going, but she had her limits and Miss Win had overstepped them. She got a tremendous scolding when the two Chalet girls had gone and was condemned to spending the time until her own mother returned in sight of Mrs Gardiner. Mrs Everett was even more horrified. Win had a second scolding and was warned that if she ever went off by herself again, she would be sent to England to stay with Cousin Emma. She had once spent a weekend there in company with Audrey and Celia and none of the three ever wanted to repeat the visit. Cousin Emma was a fidgetty, fussy old lady in the sixties and had spent most of the time her young relatives stayed with her in saying, “Don’t do that!” when she wasn’t requesting them to open and shut doors quietly, stop making so much noise, and please see that their hands were clean before she saw them again. The trio had said goodbye to her cheerfully, not to say joyfully.

Audrey had been worst of all. She was furious with Win for giving the Chalet girls such an opening and her small sister finally wept long and loud under her diatribes and refused consolation from anyone. Since then, she had been more or less sent to Coventry, especially by her eldest sister. The results of going off by herself had, in short, appalled her baby soul and there was little need to fear that she would play that trick again.

It had made matters no better that the other four had also come in for a good talking-to on the score of the bad example they set the baby. For the whole of the next week, they were told to keep near the Pension if they were out by themselves and Mrs Everett seriously discussed with Mrs Gardiner and Mme Charlot the desirability of once more trying to persuade Miss Annersley to rescind her refusal to have them this term. However, it came to nothing in the end. Mdlle de Chaumontel had a sudden relapse and her sister was absorbed in her. Peter Gardiner was to have his operation on the coming Sunday, so Mrs Gardiner had little time to spare for Val. Only Mrs Everett, whose husband was on the up-grade at the moment, could give much thought to the girls. She did ring up to ask for an appointment, but was told that the Head had been summoned to England on unexpected business connected with the English branch of the school, and would not be returning for a few days.

Quite illogically, the girls blamed the school for all the trouble they were in and determined to get their own back somehow, though it was hard to see how they were to manage it at present. Then Mrs Gardiner went to Berne to buy some things Peter needed and took Val with her. That young woman came back with eyes dancing. She had sense enough not to let Audrey into her secret, but she told Celia, and the pair chuckled to themselves as they discussed way and means of using what she had contrived to buy in a moment when her mother’s back was turned.

Meanwhile, the school had plunged more or less wholeheartedly into the work of the summer term. Len and Co, with General Certificate immediately ahead of them, had little time to think of outside things. This was their last chance for revision and, as Rosamund Lilley despairingly remarked one day, there was so much to revise, it was hard to know where to begin.

“I just feel I don’t know anything!” she wound up.

“Sister, you’ve said a mouthful,” slangy Priscilla Dawbarn told her. “You’ve exactly described my own state of mind. If I can scrape through one group, I’ll be surprised.”

This was on the second Saturday morning of term while they were sorting out their books for the morning preparation. It was too soon in the term for anyone to have mending, and friends and relations had all been warned to expect the minimum in the way of letters until the exams were over. Va meant to put in every minute they could on their work. They settled themselves to it and not even the sounds of the prefects going out to hold a prefects’ meeting somewhere outside could disturb them.

Josette Russell, the Head Girl, and second daughter of Lady Russell who had founded the school more than twenty years before, in the days when she was merely Miss Bettany, had already called one meeting to decide prefect duties. This was to discuss cricket and tennis match teams and a few other important items. Josette led her band forth, her arm slung through Clare Kennedy’s, and the rest following in a group. All carried deck-chairs with them.

“We’ll go over to the en-tout-cas courts,” Josette said. “That’s right away from the school, so if anyone feels moved to screech, we shan’t interfere with prep, etc.”

“We can’t screech there, anyhow. We’ll be bang on to the road,” Gwen Parry, the Games prefect, pointed out. “And I should like to observe that we aren’t in the habit of screeching.”

“What do you want to talk about that is likely to make us screech?” Barbara Chester, the first librarian prefect, asked inquisitively.

“Wait till we’re settled and then you may find out!” was the unsatisfactory retort she got.

They reached the courts and Josette settled them by the changing-rooms which had been built at the roadside. There were clumps of bushes beyond the fencing and a strip of turf. They set their chairs alongside the changing-rooms and above the bushes and got down to business.

“The first item on the agenda is settling our First Eleven and the Tennis Six,” Josette said. “Got anything arranged, Gwen?”

“Yes, so far as cricket is concerned,” Gwen replied. “That’s easy enough. We have seven of last year’s Eleven left and there’s not much doubt about the others, I think. I’ll read you the list and then you can discuss it.”

They listened intently while she read out the list, but there was little to discuss. The First Eleven almost settled itself and they agreed that she had made the best choice. It was another matter when they came to tennis.

“It’s going to be awfully difficult this year,” Gwen said. “We had Hilary Bennet and Mary-Lou Trelawney and Prunella Davies to start with last summer, and those three were really good. And the rest were decent, too. What have we that’s much use this year?”

“Clare!” Josette said with a grin at Clare who was by way of being a close friend of hers. “She came on a lot last summer and when I stayed with her these last hols, we played nearly every day on the town courts as we couldn’t use their own, being grass. She’s developing a demon service with a really nasty twist. Half the time I couldn’t do a thing with it.”

Clare, very pink, flung round on her. “Indeed, and it’s thanking you to stop talking such rot I’ll be! Your own service is nasty enough and I can’t touch you at volleying. Put Josette down, anyhow, Gwen. And what about yourself? You play a fast game.”

Gwen shook her head. “I’m only average. Cricket has always been my game.”

“Well, what about you, Aimée?” Barbara Chester asked, turning to Aimée Robinet, a sparkling little Parisian. “You were quite good by the end of last summer. And so were you, Marie.” She looked at Marie Zetterling who came from Berne.

“I should like to play,” Aimée said in her own language. “I have had some practice too in the holidays. My father played with me and he was very strict about where I served my balls. But you must see me first, Gwen. I may not be good enough.”

“And I,” Marie chimed in. “But if you think I am fit, Gwen, I should love to play.”

“O.K. I’ll put you four down. Now who for the other pair? And don’t forget we want three reserves. What about Len Maynard? She came on a lot last year.”

“So did Margot. She’s brilliant when she likes,” Josette, who was one of the Maynards’ cousins, said. “Con’s not so good. She’s not so keen on games as the other two. That’s what comes of being a poetic genius, I suppose!” she concluded in an elderly manner.

“Con’s rather gone off poetry lately,” remarked Maeve Bettany, the other cousin among the prefects. Maeve herself was one of the school’s best bowlers and was already in the cricket team. “She’s taken to writing short stories.”

“You pipe down about Con’s writing and let’s get on with this,” Gwen said in rather irritated tones. “Josette, I don’t think we dare risk Margot. I agree that on her day she’s brilliant; but you can never say when it’s going to be her day. I’ll put her in as a reserve, though, if you like.”

“Don’t bother about me. It’s you who has the say-so—you and Burnie,” Josette said in a hurry. “Have you thought of Primrose Trevoase? She’s keen and she’s got much steadier. Likewise, she’s got a demon service when it comes off.”

“Right! I haven’t had a chance to see her play this term, but I’ll put her down. This is only tentative anyhow. We’ll have to try them out as soon as possible—this evening, perhaps. And Joan Baker was pretty good. I did see her earlier on this week and I thought she’d come on a lot. Now how many is that?” She counted them quickly. “Eight it is. We want one more. Then we’ll bag three courts this evening and play them against each other.”

“You don’t want to try out Clare and Josette, or most of the others,” Jessica Wayne, the Hobbies prefect, pointed out. “It’s really those reserves who are in question. What about trying Rikki Fry?”

“I don’t think she’d do it,” Gwen said. “She’s nervous of playing in those glasses of hers—for matches, anyhow. No; I’ve a better idea. We’ll have Rosamund Lilley. I know there’s nothing tricky about her service, but she is steady as a rock, has a good drive, and is a most unselfish player. I don’t believe I’ve ever once seen her poaching and that’s more than you can say for most folk. Now how many does that make?”

“Nine—the Six and three reserves. That’s all we want, isn’t it?” Barbara asked.

“It is. Thank goodness that’s settled!” Gwen heaved a sigh of relief.

“What about the swimming?” Catriona Watson asked.

“House teams as usual. That’s one thing I do miss St Briavel’s for. We don’t get anything like the swimming and boating we had there.”

The entire body heaved reminiscent sighs. The school had had two years and a term on the little island off the South Wales coast and they had all enjoyed it enormously. But the big house in which the school had been had been wanted again by its owners and, in any case, the Sanatorium at the far end of the Platz had been opened and the nucleus of their present establishment was available, so they had said goodbye to St Briavel’s and come out to this shelf, high over the valley, where aquatic sports could only be enjoyed about twice a week in the summer term when they went down to Lake Thun. Sometimes, in very hot weather, an extra visit or two was put in, but, as Josette remarked now, you could never depend on that.

They had little time to regret their fun on St Briavel’s. Just as Josette finished speaking, there came a soft “Phut!” Something struck the side of the changing-rooms nearest them and the next moment saw everyone snatching out her handkerchief and burying her face. The most vile odour had arisen. There was another “Phut!”—and another, and another! Half-a-dozen, in fact. Even handkerchiefs were no use. With one accord, the prefects rose up and fled to the far side of the court.

“What on earth was it?” Josette gasped.

“Not a clue!” Barbara replied. “Phew! What a horrible stink! I’ve got it in my nose yet!”

Monica Caird, the elder sister of two small brothers, suddenly exclaimed, “Someone’s been having fun and games with us. Those were stink-bombs or I miss my guess!”

“How on earth do you know?” half-a-dozen voices demanded.

“My young brother Jim got into a fiendish row at school last term for busting one in their chemmy lab. He rather hoped their science master would think it was the result of the experiment they were doing, but that was where his toes turned in. Mr Perry asked a few questions and Jim was marched off to the Head to get six of the best—and serve him right!”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Josette assented wholeheartedly. “But who on earth——”

“But can it be some of the Junior Middles?” Lizette Falence, the music prefect, demanded.

“How could it?” Jessica Wayne asked reasonably. “That lot are in school, doing prep and mending with various mistresses in charge. Besides, those things came from outside our grounds and can you see even Junior Middles daring to break bounds at this hour? I can’t.”

Gwen swung round, but Josette stopped her. “It’s not an atom of use trying to go after them now. Whoever it was will have scrammed by this time. They just won’t be there.”

“I wish I knew who it was!” Gwen snapped. “I’d tell them exactly where they got off!”

Clare laughed. “Not one of us doubts it. Pipe down, Gwen! Smooth those ruffled feathers! They’ve had us and done it very neatly, too. No use losing our tempers over it.”

There was sense in what she said. Christine Vincent suggested that, by this time, the stench would have vanished in the fresh air and it might be a good idea to bring their chairs and finish their meeting.

“We can’t have much time left,” she pointed out.

“We haven’t,” Josette returned, glancing at her watch. “We’ll fetch the chairs and then I want to say something about our Sale.”

“There certainly won’t be time for that,” Barbara said. “But we’d better get the chairs, anyhow. Why d’you want to talk about it as early as this, Josette? Term’s only just begun.”

“I know; but I don’t want to leave things too long. You know what happened last year—a regular scrimmage to find something we could do. I thought we might have a preliminary discussion now, and then I’d call a meeting next week and get down to it in earnest.”

“Well, whoever chucked those filthy things has put paid to that idea,” Maeve Bettany said.

“It looks like it. Oh, if only I could get my hands on them! I’d wring their silly necks!”

By this time, the big girls were marching across to bring the chairs. Gwen sniffed cautiously as they approached the changing-rooms, but Christine had been right. The light breeze had dispersed the unpleasant smell and there was nothing to show how they had been interrupted.

A second look at her watch told Josette that they had no time for more business, so she declared the meeting adjourned and they strolled back to the school, carrying their chairs.

“But me, I wonder who it could have been,” Aimée remarked.

“Yes! Who would play such a nasty trick on us?” Catriona cried. “I’m positive it isn’t any of the folk who live up here—the Görnetz Platzers, I mean. For one thing, they’ll all be in school at this hour. For another, if anyone had asked me I’d have said they quite liked us. It can’t be our own young demons. As Jessica says, they’re all safely tied up and they wouldn’t dare to break bounds like that, in any case. So who is it?”

“If it hadn’t been for all that, I’d have suggested Jack Lambert,” Maeve observed. “She’s demon enough for anything.”

Josette laughed. “Jack’s a demon all right, but I don’t think she’d do a thing like that. For one thing, she’d know that Len would be down on her like a ton of bricks if she ever heard of it. Jack wouldn’t risk that. The sun seems to set and rise on young Len so far as she’s concerned!”

“What? Len! You surely don’t mean——”

Josette broke in on Gwen’s speech at once. “Don’t be such an ass! Of course I don’t! Len would never allow anything like that to happen. Besides, can you imagine Jack Lambert going all soft and soppy on anyone—Jack, of all people! She’s still more like a boy than a girl in most ways. But she does think an awful lot of what Len says, especially after the way the kid stood by her last term when she was in all that trouble over Miss Bertram’s affair!”^[5]

“No; you’re right about Len, of course,” Maeve agreed. She and Josette were cousins of the Maynards and close friends besides, despite the difference in age. Josette was nearly seventeen and Maeve’s eighteenth birthday was only a few weeks away.

Monica laughed. “Anyhow, is it likely that Jack would risk a row over a trick like that after the awful rows she got into last term for playing practical jokes? She gave Burnie a bubble bath and glued Margaret Twiss to her chair with cobbler’s wax and the trouble she landed herself in over those two affairs was colossal! She behaved more or less like a Christian after that. At least, I never heard of any further really bad rows that she was connected with. And as for developing a grande passion for anyone, I can’t imagine anything less likely. No; Jessica’s right. It isn’t any of our own little treasures this time.”

“But who, then, could it be?” Giulia di Ricci, a quiet Italian girl who ran the school Bank, asked with a puzzled air.

That was what they all wanted to know. No one could tell them. So far, they hadn’t even heard of the Five—not even about Win’s prank the previous week. They had to let it go, though both Josette and Maeve determined in their own minds to get hold of one or other of their Maynard cousins and find out if there were any juniors up at the Platz—or boys or girls—who would be likely to do such a thing under the impression that it was funny instead of being, as Barbara Chester remarked as they went to put away their chairs, the outside of enough. They had to go to take duty in the Speisesaal and the garden when the bell rang for Break and Elevenses and leave the problem unsolved for the present.

Meanwhile, that impish redhead, Val, and her faithful coadjutor Celia, who had been crouched under the bushes when the prefects arrived just in case they should get a chance to use the ammunition Val had secured in Berne on any tennis-players, were strolling back to the Pension Caramie, patting themselves and each other on the back between their triumphant giggles. They felt that they were one up on the school this time!

After discussing the affair in private, the prefects decided to say nothing to anyone about the stink-bombs with which they had been assailed.

“All but the Maynards,” Clare added. “Josette must find out if they know anything about any people who are up here and likely to play such tricks. But they won’t talk if we tell them not to.”

That was agreed on by all. During the afternoon, they kept a sharp look-out for any such persons, boys or girls, but it was vain. Mrs Everett had to go down to Interlaken and took the whole crowd with her, so nothing was seen of them for the rest of the day.

Josette and Maeve called their cousins into a quiet corner during the course of the evening, and questioned them closely. Len told all she knew, including her own first meeting with the five and Win’s antics of the previous Saturday. She agreed that they were the most likely people to have been responsible for the attack on the prefects, but she could help them no further.

“I don’t think there’s anyone else up that it could have been,” she said, frowning thoughtfully down at Josette whom she overtopped by half a head. “I do know they’ve sworn a vendetta against us for some mad reason of their own, though goodness knows why. Still, there it is.”

“I think it’s the most unbounded cheek,” Margot broke in with a toss of her bobbed red-gold curls. “It would be bad enough if they had done it to us or the Senior Middles. To go for you prefects is beyond the beyonds!”

“They probably didn’t know it was the prefects,” Con said.

“That cat won’t jump!” Len retorted. “Look at Josette’s hair. And Christine Vincent and Clare Kennedy have theirs up too.”

“Yes; why have you got yours round your head this term, Josette?” Margot demanded. “You’re not eighteen till September.”

“For coolness’ sake,” Josette returned amiably. Her plait-wreathed head had already come in for a good deal of comment from her own peers. She was the youngest by some months in VIa, but she was a brilliant student and a born leader, both of which had gained her her present honours.

“I never thought of that,” Maeve remarked. “I meant to put mine up next month on my birthday. But it’s quite an idea to keep cooler. If the weather goes on hotting up as it’s doing, we’ll all need to do something about it—including all you people from the two upper Fifths, at any rate.” She eyed Len’s long pony-tail and Con’s thick pigtail which swung to her waist down her back and they both laughed.

A call for Josette broke up the interview. Josette remarked that it wasn’t likely that the silly antics of five kids would kill them, and though something must be done, of course, she couldn’t see what at the moment.

“At least, I’m thankful it isn’t any of our own crowd,” she wound up.

Len chuckled. “I doubt if they’d dare!”

“I wouldn’t put it past some of them!” Maeve retorted. “By the way, you three, don’t breathe a word of all this to anyone else, will you? They’re not likely to try that dodge again and if they do, we’re ready for them.”

“I don’t believe in putting ideas into Juniors’ minds,” Len returned, grinning. “Anyhow, none of our lot could get hold of the filthy things. But we’ll say nothing, of course.”

“Josette!” The call was becoming impatient. The two elder cousins departed and the matter dropped for the time being.

In any case, it was some members of the Staff who came in for the next attentions of the enemy.

Biddy Courvoisier invited her own special friends among her late colleagues for tea and a session of baby-worship on the Sunday afternoon. These included Miss Wilmot, Miss Ferrars and Miss Andrews, for all of whom it was a “free” day. They walked over early in the afternoon, had a pleasant gossip with Biddy until the twins woke up to be played with and admired, enjoyed what Joey Maynard called “English” tea, and finally set off to return to school about 17.00 hours. There was to be evening service in each of the school’s own private chapels that evening and all felt like attending.

They were walking briskly along the high-road, chatting gaily, when they came face to face with the five as they rounded a curve. Schoolgirls, apart from their own, were rather a rarity on the Platz. The three smiled pleasantly at these examples as they neared them. The response they received was a shock. Audrey drew her black brows into a scowl, an example faithfully imitated by Celia. Solange giggled at them. Val tossed her red head with an impudent flip of her chin. Win crowned the lot. She quite deliberately put out her tongue at them.

The smiles died a sudden death, but the mistresses made no comment. They merely passed on swiftly. Not too swiftly, however, to avoid hearing Val’s giggling remark, “That shook them!”

“Well!” Nancy Wilmot, herself an Old Girl of the Chalet School, was the first to speak, once they were well out of earshot. “Did you see that? Who on earth are they? And what, I should like to know, do they mean by such downright rudeness? That youngest one needs a good spanking, if you ask me!”

No one could tell her. No one, as yet, knew anything about the five. That evening, however, when the day’s duties were over for them and they were all in the Staff sitting-room, enjoying the matchless coffee which Mdlle de Lachennais, Head of the languages and doyenne of the Staff, was dispensing, Miss Ferrars remembered.

“Rosalie,” she said to Rosalie Dene, “can you tell us anything about five girls of school age who seem to be rambling loose about the Platz?”

“English girls,” Nancy Wilmot added. “At least we heard one of them speak and she certainly was English. The rest looked it.”

Rosalie jumped and set down her cup. “Do you mean to say I’ve never told you about that crew yet? I meant to do it ages ago and I rather thought I had.”

“You’ve had a lot on your plate. I expect you forgot,” laughed Miss Moore, the geography mistress. “What’s so special about them, Kathy?”

“Their outrageous impudence!” Nancy Wilmot cut in. “If you know about them, Rosalie, go ahead and tell us the worst.”

“How do you know it’s the worst?” Rosalie asked, laughing.

“Because we’ve met ’em, my girl! That is, Kathy and Sharlie and I have.”

“Oh? When—and where?”

“This afternoon when we were coming back from Biddy’s,” Kathy Ferrars explained. “And Nancy told you they were outrageously impudent. Well, they were. Two of them scowled at us like thunder-clouds; one giggled at us; one tossed her head in a way that made me yearn to box her ears. As for the little one, she put out her tongue at us—cheeky brat!” And she suddenly giggled.

“That would be young Win,” Rosalie said profoundly. “She’s cheeky enough!”

“Oh, indeed? I can’t say I saw anything exactly winning about her,” Sharlie said wrathfully. “She’s a regular brat and no mistake!”

“Who are they?” Miss Yolland the art mistress asked curiously.

“They’re up here because of relatives in the San,” Rosalie explained. “The three Everetts’ father was very ill when they arrived, though he’s begun to improve this last week or two. As for the other two, Solange de Chaumontel’s aunt is slowly dying. She may go on for four or five months longer—or she may go at almost any time. No one can say.” She paused and there was a brief silence. They all had known of cases of this kind before.

“And what about the other young monkey?” Nancy inquired at last.

Rosalie smiled broadly. “Valerie Gardiner? She’s here because her elder brother Peter came up for an operation for diseased hip-bone. It’s going to mean two ops, so Jack Maynard told me. Peter had the first on Sunday and came through very well, considering. But they’ve got to build him up as far as they can for the really big affair. Probably it won’t come off for another six or eight months. He wants his mother, poor kid! He’s only fourteen. The Gardiners seem to be short on relatives and she’s a widow so there wasn’t much money to send Valerie to boarding-school. She’s up here and she’ll be coming along next term. In the meantime, she and the rest of that crowd are running wild. I wish we could have taken them, but we couldn’t get in four more girls here and Kathie Robertson can’t have young Win. So there it is.”

“But why are they behaving to us as they are?” Kathy Ferrars demanded.

“Oh, that’s my fault.”

“So you said in the beginning.” Nancy sat up in the chair in which she had been lounging. “What did you mean?”

“Yes, my Rosalie. Do tell us of what you spoke,” Mdlle added. “You called them ‘that crew’. If you please, why?”

Rosalie laughed and embarked on an account of her own encounter with the five.

“So you see,” she ended, “if they’ve really sworn a deathless feud with us, I’m afraid I’m the first cause. But I simply couldn’t let them go lighting fires in the middle of our cricket pitch!”

“I should just think you couldn’t!” Peggy Burnett, who was Games mistress, jumped to her feet. “Trying to light a fire in the middle of the pitch, indeed! I wish I’d been there! I’d have told them exactly where they got off, I can tell you! What on earth next?”

“Oh, I did that myself as I’ve told you,” Rosalie said serenely. She began to laugh. “And that reminds me. I’ve still got Audrey’s precious box of matches. I think it’s rather on the late side to send it back now, though, not to speak of the fact that it would look like encouraging them to mess about with fires up here. I think I’ll go on forgetting it.”

“But yes; certainly I should do that,” Mdlle agreed cordially. “Without doubt these children do not know the danger, especially when we have the truly hot weather, that they may burn the whole Platz. No, my Rosalie. Do not return the matches, if you please. It appears to me that would be dangerous.”

“But what I want to know,” Kathy Ferrars said slowly, “is what was the idea of lighting a fire. Were they having a picnic and trying to make tea?”

“I didn’t bother to ask them. I was too angry—especially after they cheeked me over the whole thing as they did and——” Rosalie stopped suddenly. “Half a minute! Solange said something about what were they to do about their campfire after I’d told them to clear out. I wonder if they’re Guides?”

“Jolly bad Guides at that rate!” Peggy said austerely. “What comes of ‘A Guide is always courteous’, I’d like to know?”

“I didn’t notice any badges among them,” Rosalie said in rather puzzled tones. “Somehow, I didn’t get the impression that they were Guides. Anyhow, I’ve told you folk all I know.”

“But why on earth don’t their own people look after them better?” demanded Miss Derwent, who was a great stickler for discipline. “They oughtn’t to be allowed to roam about on their own as they seem to be doing. Apart from the fact that it doesn’t do any girl of their ages good to be running wild, it’s none too safe. It isn’t as if they had been up here any time. They might do almost anything and get themselves into more than one bad mess.”

“I think they’re all too preoccupied with the invalids,” Rosalie said. “I know Mme Charlot is. Mdlle de Chaumontel is her twin, you see. I imagine that in the circumstances a mere niece doesn’t count so much.”

“But why didn’t they just shove the lot into boarding-school and leave them there for the term?” Sharlie Andrews inquired.

“I explained about Valerie. And they did try, as I told you. They tried to park them all on us.”

“I should think it was in case they were wanted in a hurry,” Nancy observed.

“Ye-es. I hadn’t thought of that,” Sharlie acknowledged.

“I am sorry,” Mdlle said slowly, “that we could not have them here after all. At least they would have been out of mischief.”

“The Abbess told me that if it had been only one, she’d have managed it somehow. But when it came to four, it couldn’t be done. And Kathie Robertson certainly couldn’t take a single other child. You know we didn’t expect more than twenty or so at St Nicholas, and provided accordingly. There are twenty-seven there now. No one expected it in the least and, as it is, they’re short of some books, which means sharing. The Abbess didn’t want to order for this term because there’s going to be quite an influx there next and we’re ordering in quantity. Up to date, we have eleven new pupils booked for St Nicholas for next term and there may be others. Kathie’s to have more help and two more rooms are to be prepared. We decided, after talking it over, to make do with what there is for this term and provide for about sixty for next. That should give Kathie quite a bit of leeway. The same applies to K.G. materials as well. As for this place, I believe they’re thinking of building on in the holidays. We’re always being asked to take more girls and we haven’t any spare room. Not a great many of the two Sixths are leaving at the end of this year. All VIa will go, of course, but only about half of VIb and, so far as I know, the only other girl leaving is Joan Baker from Va. That’s not giving us too many extra places for new girls.”

“Oh, well, if they’re coming to us next term, I suppose we can put up with their monkey tricks this,” Nancy Wilmot said easily. She was a placid creature and took life as it came. All the same, a gleam came into her eye as she added, “But if anyone else starts putting her tongue out at me, I’ll have a jolly good shot at chucking her under the chin! That should put a stop to that piece of cheek, anyhow.”

“And if I may remind you,” Ruth Derwent put in with a look at her watch, “it’s ten o’clock—I mean 22.00 hours—and high time we were moving. Davida, help me to clear away these coffee-cups, will you? It’s our turn. Then I’m for bed. I have a full day before me tomorrow and want all the rest I can get.”

A general move was made on these words of wisdom, but now the Staff were on the watch as well as the prefects. It didn’t seem likely that the five would get very far with their campaign against the school.

For the next fortnight or so, the vendetta languished. The school was much too busy to bother with it, what with public exams, cricket, tennis, gardening and, when they had any spare time, rambles. In any case, the Seniors were far too much on their dignity to worry about what Josette described to her peers as a bunch of impudent Middles. So far, their own Middles had not happened to come up against the five. The Junior Middles didn’t even know that they existed. The authorities were far too wary to risk any of the trouble that might ensue if the two parties met and the Pension Caramie crowd tried any of their tricks there. Junior Middles and Juniors came and went from the grounds by the back gates that term. The Senior Middles had met them on one or two occasions, but each time it so happened that the girls had one or more of their grown-ups with them and contented themselves with glaring at the Chalet girls.

As for the Pension Caramie crowd, on the Monday following that momentous meeting with the mistresses, Mrs Everett had ordained that her own three, at any rate, must cease to run wild. Her husband was beginning to make slow progress and her mind was easier about him. She herself had taught, before her marriage, in a big secondary school and was quite capable of dealing with her fry. Mrs Gardiner was with Peter as much as possible, and thankfully accepted an offer to keep Val occupied. The same applied to Mme Charlot where Solange was concerned. So much to their disgust, they found themselves spending the first three hours after breakfast every weekday at lessons. In the early afternoon, when Peter had an hour’s rest, his mother took them for needlework, art and English literature.

They growled loudly among themselves, though Audrey knew at the back of her mind that she had been getting very sick of doing nothing. The second week of the fortnight they minded less, for May began with a series of rainstorms which made it impossible for them to be out. As the leader of the gang meditated one evening, she would have had a trying time with the three younger ones if they hadn’t had certain fixed duties to occupy them part of the day. Then she made a sudden discovery which helped.

“It always rains here, it seems to me,” Celia grumbled on the Thursday, when Mrs Gardiner had been called away and left them to go on with their sewing. “I loathe it! I must say I don’t think much of this sort of weather.”

Audrey glanced up from her work. “All the same, if we ever do get our Camp Fire started, all this sewing is going to mean something,” she remarked.

“What? But how?” Val asked, startled.

“Why, you get Honours for making things. I think it’s three articles for one Honour.”

“But then, my Audree, do you mean that this nightdress I am making would count?” Solange queried. “But I shall like that. I enjoy this.” She looked complacently at the nightdress she had already finished and was now adorning with sprays of embroidered flowers.

“Not exactly,” Audrey owned. “You can’t count what you’ve already done unless you’re going to be a Guardian. But don’t you all see? We’re getting practice now and it’ll be easier to do them properly when we can begin.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Val said, heaving a sigh as she turned to the handkerchief she was hemming.

“And,” Audrey went on, “it isn’t only making things. It’s mending them.”

Celia groaned. “Darning stockings, do you mean? How ghastly!”

“We can’t do much stocking-darning just now,” Val remarked, stretching out her bare tanned legs.

“No; but you have to in winter. I do mine, anyhow,” Audrey told her. “Mum makes me. I’ve had to do my own mending ever since I was fourteen.”

“Well, that’s not a year yet,” Celia jeered.

“It will be the week after next.” Audrey was a May baby.

Solange grinned. “But you do not mend very beautifully. I have seen your darning and it is terr-rible! One can see it plainly.”

“Well, I don’t know how else you could do it!” Audrey snapped.

“Me, I will show you.” Solange tossed down her embroidery and jumped up. She returned three minutes later with a pair of stockings which she handed to her leader. “Voilà! That is proper darning!” she announced.

Audrey, Celia and Val examined the stockings. Then Audrey dropped them. “Very funny, but these haven’t been darned, so don’t try to make me think they have.”

“But it is true! See! Here—and here—and this knee!” Solange pointed to the places triumphantly.

“Fiddle! There’s no darn there!”

“But there is. That is what I say,” Solange insisted. “You English girls do not know how to darn. In France, yours would be thought oh, but terrible—it is—you would say—as the shoemaker does!” She ended triumphantly.

Audrey began to laugh. “You mean ‘cobble’. Solange, honour bright, did you really darn those stockings?”

“But yes; of course!”

Audrey looked thoughtful. “Is it frightfully hard?”

“Oh, at first. But soon one learns and then it is not difficult at all.”

“Will you show me how?”

“But certainly. But one has to be very patient at first,” Solange warned her.

“I’ll learn, then. The better one can do a thing the better it is,” Audrey said simply. “Thanks a million, Solange.”

The talk went on about what you must do for Honours, but they sewed hard for all that and when lively Mrs Gardiner returned, she exclaimed at their work.

“Well! You people certainly haven’t wasted your time! Solly, I think you must be infecting these people with your own love for sewing. And,” she added as she went round examining the needlework, “this is an all-round improvement for all of you. You’ve another twenty minutes or so, so I’ll read aloud to you if you like.”

They had their reward next day when they woke up to find fine weather and a glorious sun. The rain had ceased shortly before midnight and already the water had drained off the high-road and the turf and bushes were steaming heavily.

At breakfast, Mrs Everett informed them that they might have a day’s holiday to make up for their lengthy imprisonment. She herself was going to Berne to shop and Mrs Gardiner was going with her. Mme Charlot would be at the Sanatorium as usual, of course.

“May we go for a walk—along the road to Ste Valérie?” Audrey asked.

“Yes; but keep to the road for the present. No need to get your feet wet, and everywhere will be soaking after all the rain. Don’t tire. Win out and mind you are back in time for lunch. No; no picnics today! You must wait until everywhere has had a chance to dry out,” Mrs Everett said. She had no idea how quickly things do “dry out” under the Swiss sun.

“And wear your hats,” Mrs Gardiner put in. “I don’t want to have to cope with a case of sunstroke, and I’m sure Mrs Everett doesn’t.”

“I loathe having to wear a hat!” Val muttered rebelliously.

“Well, it’s either that—and promising me you’ll keep it on—or not going at all!” her mother retorted. “Be quick and make up your mind.”

“In any case,” Mrs Everett chimed in, “the others will be wearing hats, too. Audrey, be sure to see that Win keeps hers on. The sun can be very hot here.”

“O.K.,” Audrey said. She had told no one so far, but she found that the brilliant sunshine was apt to make her eyes smart if they were left unshaded.

“Then that’s all, I think. Finished, everyone? Then run along and get ready. It’s after 9 now and you must be back here by 12.15 to have time to make yourselves tidy for lunch. Run along!”

They wasted no time and by 9.15 they were on the high-road and speeding towards the stream which cuts across the high-road halfway to Ste Valérie. It is crossed by a wooden bridge, the ambulances and motor coaches taking a round further up the slope where a stone bridge crosses the water. The wooden one is merely a footbridge.

At the school it had also been decided to make the most of the fine weather. The girls had been told that their early morning walk would be extended to an hour-and-a-half for once. Lessons would not begin before 10 a.m. and, if they hurried, they could be off by 8.30 a.m. There was a fine old scrimmage to get through dormitory duties after that. Even the Junior Middles, who were apt to be slow, finished in short order and Len Maynard, having toured Pansy to see that all was as it should be, chuckled.

“Well, now I know what you can do. I shan’t put up with your dilly-dallying again,” she informed her lambs. “Very well. Line up at the door. Jack, go to your place—quickly!”

She spoke in French, but even Jack Lambert, whose second term this was, had no need to ask what she meant. She scuttled to her place in the line and Len marched them off downstairs to their Splashery where they changed into walking shoes, pulled on their big, shady hats with scarves of the school colours circling the crowns, and then made for the outside path where they were to meet their escort mistress.

Miss Bertram was their form mistress and a great favourite on the whole. She told them that they were going towards Ste Valérie, called Yolande le Cadoulec, who was without a partner, to walk with her, and started them off.

Once they were well away from the Görnetz Platz, they might break rank and join up in groups of three or four at a time. She warned them to be on the look-out for traffic when they came to the side-road which linked the upper road with the lower and then set them free, remaining at the tail-end with Yolande, Jack, and Jack’s special chum, Wanda von Eschenau, as her escorts.

They reached the stream without incident. On the bridge, the girls paused to lean over and comment on the way the water had risen.

“How high it is!” Wanda remarked, as she and the other two took their turn at hanging over the upper rail. “Look, Jack! If it rises much more, it will be over the bridge.”

“Coo! That ’ud be something!” Jack returned in her own language. “We’d have to paddle back, then.”

“In French, Jack,” Miss Bertram reminded her.

Jack heaved a deep sigh. “Please, I don’t know how to say it in French,” she said.

“Then listen and repeat it after me,” Miss Bertram said inexorably.

Jack had to repeat her remark six times before it would pass muster. She got it at last and so did the others who had paused for a minute. None of them would have owned to it, but it was a fact that this sort of thing helped considerably in giving them fluency and accent. They regarded it mainly as an utter nuisance!

Once she was satisfied, Miss Bertram sent them forward again; but not for long. Twenty minutes later, she pulled out her whistle and blew the recall. Everyone swung round at once. They knew that any disobedience would mean a prim walk in “croc” along the Platz next time and no one was ready to risk that. Miss Bertram waited until the last group, Gretchen von Ahlen, Ghiselaine Touvet and Rosemary Wentworth, had reached her, and joined up with them.

“Are you tired, Gretchen?” she asked a little anxiously. Gretchen had been very delicate, but she had improved enormously since she came up to the Platz and she beamed all over her rosy face as she shook her head and said emphatically that she was not tired at all.

Meanwhile, Jack and her boon companions, two Dutch girls, Renata van Buren and Arda Peik, as well as Wanda, had become head of the straggling line. They marched briskly along, chattering gaily in what passed with them for French, though if Mdlle had been present, she would certainly have pulled them up over and over again. They swung round the sharp turn before the bridge and stopped short. On it stood a cluster of girls. Two seemed to be older than themselves; two others looked their own age; the last was a tiny. They filled up the footway and showed no sign of either crossing or moving to one side to let the newcomers pass.

“If you please, would you mind moving and letting us cross?” Wanda asked.

The strange girls made not the slightest effort to comply. They spread themselves out even more, much to the indignation of the other four. More; having stared hard at them, the fair girl gave a toss to the long golden curls tied back from her face with a pair of very chic bows, turned to the gangling dark-eyed one who was glowering at them, and said in clear tones, “But who, then, do they think they are, my Audree?”

It was English—but English with a French accent and with every “t-h” turned into “z”. Very politely, Wanda repeated her request in French, and the four younger ones promptly giggled.

“The poor things don’t seem to understand either plain English or plain French,” Jack remarked with a cheeky grin. “Shall we try them with German?”

“Or I might say it in Dutch!” Renata quickly followed up her lead.

“You needn’t bother yourselves!” Audrey said abruptly. “We understand you well enough and the answer is, not on your Nelly! So now what?”

To do the five justice, none of them realised that this was a school walk. Jack and Co had marched well ahead and the rest were still a little way behind and had not yet come round the corner.

One of the younger ones put her oar in. “We’re admiring the view,” she stated with a giggle. “You’ll have to wait our time.”

This was too much for Jack who had already begun to seethe. “Oh, must we?” she retorted. “Then that’s where your toes turn in! We’ve asked you politely to let us pass. If you won’t do it for that, we’ll make you! Come on, chaps!” And without more ado, she lowered her head and went full tilt at Val who had last spoken.

This was enough for Arda and Renata, who were indignant themselves, and ready for mischief at any time. They flung themselves after Jack, despite Wanda’s cry of “Wait! Miss Bertram will see to it when she comes!” spoken in her native German. They landed head-on against the barrier which gave way despite themselves before the concerted rush. Renata tripped and only saved herself by clutching frantically at the top rail, thereby giving her arm a wrench. Celia went headlong over little Win and the pair of them rolled flat on the bridge. In fact the baby was only saved from going into the water by Audrey’s long arm. Terrified Win burst into a series of shrieks as she was dragged clear and Jack, brought up short, stopped dead to exclaim, “Oh, I say! The kid’s not hurt, is she?”

“No thanks to you, you hooligans!” Audrey stormed, her arm round the howling Win. “All right, Baby! You’re quite safe! Don’t yell like that. You aren’t hurt and I won’t let anyone touch you again. Here, Solly, take her off out of this! Get her over to the grass. She’ll be all right then. Stop it, Win! You’re not killed!”

Solange pulled Win off the bridge, well away from the water that went roaring past and tried to hush her. Celia got to her feet. She had bruised her knees when she fell and her clean frock was a sight. Renata’s arm was hurting rather badly and Jack, who had bumped her head against one of the lower rails when she fell, had a lump like an egg coming up under her black hair. Her hat had fallen off in the mêlée and was sailing gaily away to disappear over the edge of the cliff before anyone could do anything about it. She gave a cry of anguish as she saw it go.

“My new hat! It’s gone! Oh, what will Matey say?”

By this time, Miss Bertram and the other girls who had heard the noise had come racing up and, at sight of the mistress’s face, the four Chalet girls suddenly remembered what they had done and stood stock still. Not so the others. Audrey was in a tearing rage. She had sprung to her feet when Solange took Win and now, regardless of the fact that a mistress was present, she stamped her foot and shook her fist at the Chalet girls, shouting, “You beasts! It might have been Win and you can make a fuss about a hat! You utter beasts! I’ll see you get what’s coming to you for this! I will——”

An icy voice checked her. “What is the meaning of this?”

She looked up and got a glance from eyes like two pieces of glinting steel that brought her to her senses in a hurry.

“We were on the bridge,” she muttered as no one else spoke and Miss Bertram clearly meant to have an answer. “They told us to move and let them pass and then—and then——” She stopped there. For one thing, she was feeling sick, what with the fright over Win and her own rage. For another, she had no mind to tell tales, however angry she might be.

Renata, whose arm was growing worse every minute, spoke up. “Wanda asked them very politely please to move and let us pass,” she said shakily. Then she, too, stopped for the same reason as Audrey, only in addition to feeling sick, things were beginning to go round for her.

Miss Bertram was at her side in an instant. “Wait a moment, Renata. Come over here and sit down. Two of you hold her. Put your head between your knees, child. You’ll soon feel better.”

Barbara Hewlett and Margaret Twiss were on either side of Renata by this time and after a quick glance, she turned to the others, and if ever jolly Miss Bertram had looked grim, she did it then.

“Off the bridge, you people!” she snapped to the group still there.

They meekly obeyed her and she turned to the others. “Come across, please, in single file, and be quick!”

They crossed as fast as they could. With “Bertie” looking like that, they had no wish to draw any more attention to themselves than they could help. When the last girl was over and they were all on the far side, she faced them.

“Now! What is the meaning of this outrageous business?”

“I—I s’pose it was mostly my fault,” Jack said, forgetting her hat for the moment. “They wouldn’t let us pass and I—well, I sort of headed a rush at them.”

“Butted at us like goats!” Val remarked to Celia. She did not mean to be heard, but Miss Bertram had sharp ears.

“Indeed?” she said, fixing the speaker with an eye that made that gay young person wriggle visibly. Satisfied that she had made an impression, she turned to the chief culprit. “Well? What happened after your animal impersonation?”

Jack swallowed, but she held up her head. “Some of us tripped—and the kid—I mean—the little girl—fell down and someone fell over her and I think she might have rolled into the water only that big girl grabbed her—and my hat fell off—and—and it’s gone over the edge—and—and that’s all I remember.”

Miss Bertram had to bite her lips. Jack as a penitent was decidedly comical. Her cheeky small face wore such a rueful expression, and rueful expressions did not match with it. Then her glance went to the brawling stream racing down, its water lipping the banks. Any more rain and it certainly would be over the bridge, she reflected. Win might have had a very nasty experience, though, as it was a shallow stream usually, she hardly thought the child would have gone over the edge. The others would have plunged in after her and dragged her to safety. All the same——

She let it go for the moment. Win’s yells had died down to frightened whimperings and she seemed in a fair way to be comforted. The mistress left her for the moment and turned to Audrey.

“Why did you not let the girls pass when you were asked?” she inquired.

Audrey had had time to feel ashamed of herself and she had been really terrified at Win’s danger. She wasn’t owning to any of it just now—not likely! She dropped her long lashes and looked silly.

Miss Bertram waited. Then she turned to her own charges. “I will speak to you girls when I come to you for grammar after Break. At the moment, it should be enough for you to know that I feel bitterly ashamed of you. You have disgraced your school, yourselves and me. Jack!”

At the sound of her name, Jack jumped. She looked up and got a glance in return that she later said froze the marrow in all her bones. “You seem to have been largely responsible. Apologise to these girls, please.”

“Oh, but it was Renata and me just as much!” Arda cried, greatly daring.

“Then you will apologise, too. Renata may write hers when she feels better.”

The pair mumbled, “I’m very sorry.”

Audrey glared at them. The others merely looked down. Then Celia stepped forward. “Pup-please, it was me knocked Win over,” she confessed shakily.

“I see. Is she hurt? Bring her here, please—what is your name?”

“Solange de Chaumontel,” Solange said.

Miss Bertram bent down over Win whose chest was still heaving, though she seemed pretty well all right otherwise. “Are you hurt?” she asked gently.

Win shook her head and turned to bury her face in Solange’s frock.

“I don’t think she is,” the latter said in her own tongue. “It was fear.”

“Well, I’m sure Win is too brave to go on crying for that,” the mistress said, kneeling to pull the rumpled frock straight and smiling into the blue eyes as Win turned. She stood up and addressed Audrey coldly. “After a fright like that, she ought to go home and have a good nap. You had better join on with us and we will see you to the Pension Caramie. Girls!” She turned finally to her own charges. “Take your partners and be quick, please. Renata, are you all right and able to walk?”

“Yes, thank you,” Renata said, getting to her feet. “It was just—my arm hurt. It’s better now, thank you.”

“Matron will see to it when we get back—and Jack’s head,” Miss Bertram added as she suddenly saw that young woman’s brow which was rapidly changing colour. “Give me your handkerchief, please.”

Jack produced it and Miss Bertram wrung it out in the water and then bound the pad she made over the lump with her own. That done, she started the long files back to the Platz, keeping Renata and Jack with her, and putting the people from the Pension immediately in front. She herself carried Win who was very tired with her fright and tempestuous crying.

Audrey would have given a good deal to refuse, but somehow she didn’t dare. Miss Bertram delivered them to Mme Rénault at the Pension, explaining briefly that Win had had a fright and needed a nap and she thought the other four had better stay, too.

At school, she delivered Jack and Renata over to Matron, merely saying they were hurt. She knew that Matron would get to the bottom of things in short order. She herself went off to the study to report to the Head.

Matron soon knew all there was to know and by the time she had finished giving the sinners her opinion of them, they had their tails well between their legs. And then Jack had to own up about the hat! She packed them off to bed, forbidding them to talk until she gave them leave, and there they had to spend the rest of the day. Arda did not escape, either, for Miss Bertram set her a long piece of analysis to do in her free time, and followed it up with a request for an account in French of their doings.

Finally, when she went to report to the Head, Miss Bertram insisted that the people in charge at the Pension Caramie ought to be told what had happened. Miss Annersley fully agreed, and made it her business to call on Mrs Everett and Mrs Gardiner during the evening. They had already had a more or less edited version from the girls. What Miss Annersley had to say meant serious trouble next morning for all but Win, who had horrid nightmares during the night and was kept in bed to recover. They were forbidden ever to leave the Platz without someone responsible in charge. Like Arda, they were all awarded punishment lessons which would keep them fully occupied for the next few days. Finally, Mrs Everett had Audrey alone and spoke to her seriously about her lack of responsibility and the downright wickedness of holding grudges for any cause.

Audrey listened in silence, far too proud to attempt to excuse or justify herself, even if she had had either excuse or justification. But her mother’s talking-to did nothing to decrease her hatred of the school and everyone connected with it, and this was to have results that came very near to being bitterly serious.

“Ouf! But it’s hot!” Jack looked round the pack with which she usually ran as she mopped her face. “When do you chaps think we’ll go down to that lake you were yarning about and have a swim?”

“Monday, perhaps,” Barbara Hewlett replied.

“Wish we could go sooner! I know there’s that tennis match today, but what’s the matter with going down tomorrow?” Jack inquired.

“We never do go swimming on Sunday. Too many week-enders around,” Rosemary Wentworth replied. “Those beaches are simply littered with strangers on a hot Sunday. I heard Mary-Lou Trelawney say so to Vi Lucy last year.”

“I wish that lot were still here!” Barbara sighed. “Oh, I know they were fearfully bossy and made us toe the mark, but somehow they always seemed to keep things on the go—more than Josette and Gwen and the rest do. And Mary-Lou was such a sport! She always had time for you if you wanted her.”

“Well, so has Len Maynard,” Jack pointed out.

“I know, but it’s not the same thing.”

“How?”

“Well, for one thing, Len’s only a dormitory prefect. She can’t do the things that a school prefect can,” Barbara explained.

Jack thought it over. “No-o; I see that,” she agreed. Then she reverted to her previous plaint. “All the same, I do wish we could go for a swim.”

“I wish you would not talk about it, for it makes me feel hotter than ever,” Wanda said crossly.

The orgy of wishing was broken up by the arrival of Len herself.

“Now then, folks! Come and help carry out forms and chairs and rugs!” she said briskly. “You all want to watch the tennis, I suppose? Then you want something to sit on. Come along, all of you.”

“I wish it wasn’t so hot!” Jack remarked as she got to her feet.

Len laughed. “You can expect that in Middle Europe at this time of year. Never mind,” she added kindly. “We’re going down to Lake Thun on Monday for swimming and boating, and Karen told me that she had made an extra cold pudding for Mittagessen and there’ll be iced lemonade.”

That cheered them up considerably and they moved off after her to carry out chairs, forms and rugs, ready for the spectators of that afternoon’s tennis match which was against a team from one of the Pensions in Geneva.

Out in the road, the quintette from the Pension Caramie saw them at it as they peeped between the bushes, now in full leaf, and paused to gape.

“What’re they going to do, d’you suppose?” Val asked Audrey.

“How should I know? Tennis match of some sort, probably. We know those are the tennis courts,” Audrey returned. She no longer scoffed at the school’s games. During the weeks that had passed she and the others had all caught glimpses of the girls playing and Val had been left breathless at the cricket practices. They talked no more about “soft balls”. Neither did Audrey really wonder at Miss Dene’s wrath when she had caught them trying to light their camp fire on the sacred match pitch. Not that it soothed her. Far from it. It made her feel in the wrong, and that made matters worse.

Solange looked wistful. “I wish,” she began in her own language, “that——” she stopped short. Audrey’s temper was none too sweet these days and she had a tongue like a file when she was annoyed. If one of her band had the temerity to voice a wish that they might have played on the school’s courts at certain times, she would certainly be roused. All the same, Solange wished it. She was keen on tennis and a good player for her age.

Luckily for her, Win had been chattering, so Audrey had not heard. She called the gang to come and marched straight ahead, looking to neither left nor right. Never since that free fight with Jack and Co had she fully recovered herself. It made matters no better that, despite herself, she had more than once wished the same thing as Solange.

“We can’t use those bomb-things again,” Celia muttered to Val, nodding toward the leafy bushes. “Pity! We might have had some fun, but we couldn’t do it now—not with those bushes grown as they have.”

One or two of the Seniors caught sight of the girls as they went up the road and Len wondered momentarily if she should ask leave to invite them to come and look on this afternoon. Life must be so frightfully dull for them! Then she decided against it. Goodness only knew what they might do if they came! You couldn’t risk trouble with strangers about.

Mittagessen proved to be a really cool meal, with everything possible iced. They had iced salad, veal in aspic, iced fruit and custard and big glasses of Karen’s famous iced lemonade. When it ended and they had cleared the tables, they all fled to change. The Tennis Six wore their shorts and shirts and the others clean cotton frocks. Even Jack acknowledged that she felt better as she walked across to the courts with one arm through Wanda’s and the other through Renata’s. They found the big rugs apportioned to them and settled down to talk quietly among themselves until the visitors arrived.

Meantime, in the long Speisesaal, the maids were busily laying the tables for the evening meal. That done, they would be free until the evening. Kaffee und Kuchen would be taken in the garden behind the buildings and the prefects had laid it ready, with only the plates of rolls and butter, dishes of fruit and big urns of café-au-lait to carry out. Karen would leave everything ready and they would see to it themselves.

Bowls of fresh salad and others of stewed gooseberries were set out. Milk, luckily, was left in the big, stone-lined dairy until it was required. When they had finished, the maids opened the windows and closed the jalousies to keep the room as cool as possible and went off to enjoy their holiday.

Everyone else in the school had congregated on the courts. They all wanted to watch the match between the Pension Daubeny and the school, and the place was deserted. Even Rosalie Dene, remarking that if anyone rang up, they’d have to ring off again, strolled over to the court where play between the first pairs would take place, and settled herself comfortably beside ‘Matey’, as they all called Matron Lloyd, head of all the matrons, prepared to rest and enjoy herself.

The visitors arrived on time in a big motor-coach. There were two dozen or so of them—the Tennis Six, their special friends and the mistresses who either came to umpire or to act as escort. Mme Daubeny, head of the establishment, was the last to descend and was promptly taken in charge by Miss Annersley and Miss Wilson. The rest were divided between the Staff, and the girls were welcomed by the Seniors. It was a finishing school, with no pupil under sixteen, so the younger girls had little interest in them. They had played each other for the last four seasons, and all knew each other more or less. They found seats; the umpires mounted their lofty perches; the pairs swung racquets for side or service and the match started.

Jack and Co, needless to state, had seen to it that they might watch the set between their own special dormitory prefect and her partner and their opponents. Len had warned them well about their behaviour and they were prepared to be examples of good Junior Middles. In any case, Mdlle de Lachennais, Miss Wilmot, Miss Ferrars and their own Miss Bertram were sitting near-by to keep an eye on them and on the rest of the Junior Middles who had elected to back up Len and Rosamund.

Len and Rosamund were playing two girls much older than themselves. One, who was addressed as “Gerda”, was tall and fair, with thick flaxen plaits pinned up to the back of her head. The other, who seemed to be either “Jennifer” or, more often, “Jenny”, was shorter, dark and plain, but quite frighteningly efficient-looking. She had an urchin crop which would give her no trouble. Gerda had tied a scarf round her head. Beside lanky Len and Rosamund with her long pigtail wound round her head, they looked appallingly grown-up to the wide-eyed Junior Middles.

Gerda served first—a good length ball which Rosamund took neatly, driving it to Jenny with a nasty twist on it which beat her opponent completely. Jenny looked startled as she and Gerda changed sides. The Chalet girls looked so much younger than themselves that she had hardly expected such a stroke.

Gerda served to Len—another long, straight drive and Len, getting her racquet to it, drove back, just skimming the net. Jenny got it and returned it to Rosamund. It was a lightning stroke and Rosamund, caught unawares by the force behind it, sent it right out of court, and the score was fifteen-all. That was the only point the school got out of that game and the next went the same way. The Junior Middles pulled very long faces. Surely their champions were going to do better than that?

They did! It was Jenny’s service and she sent a fast one. Unfortunately, she miscalculated the height and it struck the top of the net with a “Whang!” that made one or two people look anxiously to see if the wire would stand it.

She made no mistake about the next. It skimmed over and lay dead. Len got her racquet to it, but that was all she could do. The next service, to Rosamund, was much easier. It was unexpected, but she sent it over the net with a rather feeble stroke and it trickled down and lay dead. Jenny, flying up the court, was just too late and the school scored the point.

The next service to Len was a good, straight drive and she drove back with all her force to Gerda who returned it neatly. Rosamund had run up to the net and she caught it and struck it down. Gerda was ready, however. She took it and sent it back to Len who drove back with a nasty twist which Jenny only just met. Rosamund was ready and some very pretty volleying followed which ended when Gerda, misjudging a return of Len’s, caught the ball on the edge of her racquet and it flew out to the side.

The next point went to the Chalet School pair as well, but Gerda won the next and Jenny, sending over an impossible shot, beat Rosamund and the score stood at deuce. The next point was won by Len and Rosamund, but Gerda got the next, and deuce was called four times before a tricky return from Rosamund forced Jenny to drive into the net and Len capped it by a ball to Gerda that broke out most unexpectedly, not only to Gerda, but to Len herself, who had no idea how she had managed it.

“Two-one to them!” breathed Con Maynard who, with Margot and their chums, was sitting in a bunch at the other end. “That’s better!”

The next game went to the school, thanks to some fluky shots from Rosamund, who was playing better than she had ever done before. They had a hard struggle for the next and the school won it on a drive to the side from Len which was just beyond Jenny, though she flew to take it.

Gerda, evidently determined not to be beaten by girls so much younger than themselves, went all out in the next game and though the two Fifth Formers stuck to it grimly and forced the play to deuce twice over, they were beaten in the end.

“Three all!” gasped Jack, who had been sitting clutching her hands together in her excitement. “Oh, I say! This is a game and a half, isn’t it?”

However, Rosamund and Len were on their mettle now and they contrived to win the seventh game by one point.

“That girl they call Gerda is tiring,” Nancy Wilmot murmured to her own peers. “She put too much into that last game they won. Pity! They’re a good pair.”

She spoke quietly, but quick-eared Jack caught the words and she beamed widely. Len, returning to her place, saw the grin and smiled back, much to the joy of all her lambs. They grinned at her for all they were worth and she turned to face their opponents greatly cheered.

It was her service. Little Mélanie de Lisle handed her the balls—girls from the Junior forms always acted as ball-boys on these occasions—and she took up her stance. Her racquet swung, and the ball she sent down beat Jenny completely, for it fell dead, just to the right side of the centre line, which was something that young lady had not been expecting. The next service was well up and Gerda took it beautifully, driving straight to Rosamund. Rosamund was well on her toes, she took it at net and smashed it down. Jenny just got to it in time, driving to Len with a clever stroke which nearly beat the younger girl. However, she got it, though she sent it back very tamely to Gerda who drove with all her force to Rosamund. It was too much and the ball went right out of the court, nearly braining Miss Burnett, who had come along from one of the other courts to see how her third pair were faring. She leapt aside just in time and Mélanie was on the ball and running with it at once. But whether she was growing very weary, or whether it was the shock of the near-accident, Gerda certainly played less well thereafter.

Len sent her third service over and it was beautifully taken and returned to Rosamund with a straight swift drive. Rosamund once more played the stroke which the Mary-Lou Trelawney of the Pansy chatter had taught her last season—a very nasty stroke, guaranteed to break in. Jenny got to it with a beautiful backhand stroke and Len sent it to Gerda with a force that beat the elder girl, though she tried to get to it. The last ball of the game came with a nasty twist. Rosamund caught the return at net and drove it into Jenny’s corner just as that young lady came up the court like a tiger, expecting it to be smashed down as usual. The school had won a love game and it was all the Junior Middles could do not to cheer wildly.

The final game was a long one with terrific rallies and clever volleying from both sides; but Gerda had taken too much out of herself earlier on and though Jenny played like a demon, it went to the school after deuce had been called seven times.

“Game and set to the Chalet School,” announced the level voice of the umpire as the crimson opponents straggled up to the net to shake hands and congratulate each other on their play.

Nothing could hold Pansy now, and they shrieked joyfully until Nancy Wilmot and Mdlle came down on them heavily and brought them to their senses.

“Stop that yelling at once!” Miss Wilmot ordered. “Stop it, I say!”

“But your manners!” Mdlle exclaimed. “Shocking! I think one must tell Miss Annersley that you girls are too young to be permitted to watch matches like this. Be silent, all of you!”

They were silent, but not one looked ashamed of herself. They were far too thrilled for that.

The visitors laughed at their enthusiasm.

“Your kids do seem bucked,” Jenny observed as she and Len walked to the changing rooms to make themselves fit to be seen. “You two played jolly well, you know. But then this school is beginning to get quite a reputation for tennis around here. I remember you wiped up the floor with us last year. You’ve lost that crowd, haven’t you? I notice you Six are all fresh people.”

“Most of them have gone on to our finishing branch,” Len explained. “But you needn’t talk about our play! Some of your strokes had me gasping.”

Jenny laughed. “I’ve played since I was a small kid. Dad’s awfully keen. But you’re jolly good yourself and so is your partner. Some of her returns were absolutely unbeatable. In here? I’m ready for a wash and brush-up, aren’t you?”

In the end, the school did win, for though the second pair, Aimée and Marie, lost their set by two games, the first pair won handsomely. Kaffee und Kuchen followed and then the visitors said goodbye and piled into their coach, with reminders that the return match would take place in a month’s time on their own courts.

“When,” said the leader of the Six, “we shall hope to have our revenge.”

“I liked those two we played,” Len remarked as she and Rosamund strolled off to the rock garden where they proposed to spend the rest of the evening until Abendessen.

“So did I,” Rosamund agreed. “Oh, how tired I am! All that volleying took it out of me.”

“Never mind. Here are two nice empty chairs. We’ll sit down and be lazy——”

She never finished her speech. At that moment, Con and Margot came flying down the steps and up to them.

“Come on!” Con cried. “Come quickly!”

“Where on earth?” Len demanded.

“To the Speisesaal,” Margot chimed in furiously. “Some pigs have got in while we were all out on the courts and messed up the tables. There isn’t a thing fit to eat and we’ll all have to turn to and do what we can! You never saw such a mess! Everything will have to be cleared off and washed up and a completely fresh meal prepared. And what Karen’s going to say when she sees all the waste of food, I don’t know!”

“But what’s happened?” Rosamund exclaimed as she and Len raced with them to the school. “How have they messed up things?”

In a voice that would have done credit to Lady Macbeth demanding the daggers, Margot told them. “Pepper! Pepper over everything! You can’t go in without sneezing your head off, and some of it’s ordinary white pepper, but one table is paprika and the cloth’s a sight!”

Pepper it was! There could be no mistake about that. The instant they entered the Speisesaal, every girl had to pull out her handkerchief and clap it to her face and the long room resounded to their sneezing.

There seemed to be pepper everywhere! It dusted the salads with yellowish-grey or coral dust. There were drifts of it on the bowls of stewed gooseberries. It floated on the top of the lemonade in the big pitchers. The cloths were speckled liberally with it and so were the napkins. All in all, they calculated later that at least a couple of pounds must have been used.

Standing by the Staff table, sneezing as portentously as the girls, were Miss Ferrars and Miss Wilmot, who had heard the noise and come to find out what it was all about. There too were Jo Scott, Rikki Fry and Sue Mason, two inseparables, and Carmela Walther, a girl who could look angelic, but who, in earlier days, had earned for herself an awful reputation for sinfulness. It turned out that Jo and Carmela had gone to the Speisesaal to open the jalousies ready for Abendessen. They had started to sneeze almost immediately, but Jo had stubbornly fought through to the windows and got one opened when they could see the wreck of their tables. The others, like the two mistresses, had heard the sneezing and come to make inquiries.

Miss Wilmot finally waved everyone out and into the entrance hall where she blew her nose thoroughly and then, mopping her eyes, demanded, “What do you people know about this—if anything?”

Jo told her story and explained that she had decided that it would be silly to rouse the entire school. She had sent for the Maynards to come and help and had meant that their little crowd should put matters straight before she reported the affair to anyone.

“I see.” Miss Wilmot ruminated a minute.

Her colleague spoke. “And where, exactly, did anyone get all the pepper to do this?” she asked conversationally.

“That is something we must find out,” Miss Wilmot said in her grimmest tones. “Well, the first thing is to clear up the mess and then we’ll have to see what we can do about a decent meal.”

“The first thing,” Miss Ferrars corrected her, “is to get towels to tie over our mouths and noses or we shan’t be able to do a thing. Wait here, all of you. I’ll fetch some down.”

She left them standing in the hall while she ran lightly upstairs, to return a minute or two later with a pile of small towels.

“We’ll wring them out in water and fasten them over our mouths and noses and then we ought to be able to manage,” she said. “I snaffled a box of safety-pins from Matey’s room to fasten them.”

They followed her advice and then, protected from the ravages of the pepper, went in to the attack. Jo began by opening the other jalousies and, as the evening sunlight filled the room, they saw even more clearly the appalling mess they must clear up.

“Well,” Nancy Wilmot said, “we must do something and do it quickly. There’s not much time if Abendessen isn’t to be outrageously late. Jo, you and Carmela and Con take that lettuce into the kitchens and see if you can get it clear of pepper. Wash it well.”

“There’s one blessing,” Margot remarked as she marched to the hatch with a bowl of salad in each hand, “and that is that as quite a lot of people don’t like salad dressing, Karen always serves it in jugs. And it’s not been put out.”

“Neither has the bread-and-butter,” Con added.

“That’s so much saved,” Kathy Ferrars said. “I’m going to get fresh tablecloths and napkins. Len, you and Rosamund had better bring the vacuum cleaner and go over the floor; we don’t want everyone sneezing their heads off during supper! The rest of you, clear away those bowls of fruit and the lemonade. We can’t do a thing about them—they’ll have to be thrown out. Of all the wicked waste of food!”

Once set to work, they got through much faster than they had expected. Jo and her helpers washed the lettuce clean and then returned it, very limp and wet, to the bowls. It was edible, though. Ted Grantley sampled a leaf or two to make sure. The eggs were done for, but they could use the radishes, tomatoes and cress. The salads bore little resemblance to the usual ornamental affairs they had, but they were food.

Rikki and Sue opened the great “fridge” and found a supply of lemons. They brought the basins of sugar from the Speisesaal and concocted something that might be described as a very poor relation of the nectar Karen had prepared, but there was no time to boil anything and cool it properly.

The biggest problem was the sweet. What could they use in place of the ruined gooseberries and custard? Karen had bottled plenty of fruit the previous season, but she kept her store cupboards locked and the keys in her pocket, so that was no good.

Luckily, just as they were all puzzling what to do about it, Len and Rosamund came to put away the cleaners, having made sure that the boards were clear and Len, on hearing about it, promptly made a suggestion.

“I’ll fly over home and ask Mamma for some of our fruit. We’ve piles still from last summer. Anna bottled until Papa asked her if she thought we were likely to have to stand a siege during the winter. May we three go, Miss Wilmot? Oh, and Rosamund and Carmela as well to help carry? How many bottles should we bring?”

Miss Wilmot looked perplexed for once. “I haven’t a clue. Best tell your mother the whole yarn and ask her to send what we’re likely to need. And girls—say nothing to anyone else here for the present. Miss Annersley has had to go over to St Mildred’s and I don’t want to bother her about it yet. She—she has other things to think of. You’ll know later. We can deal with this mess-up ourselves, thank goodness!”

“With my assistance!” said a fresh voice as Matron herself marched into the Speisesaal where they were standing, bearing a pile of tablecloths. “I’ve been hearing about it! Spread these, girls, and be quick about it, please.” Then, as the girls seized on the cloths and set to work she added to the two mistresses in rather different tones, “I only wish I had whoever it was played such a nasty trick across my knee and a good, stout hair-brush in my hand! I’d teach her—or them—to waste good food like this when thousands are literally starving to death! It’s a downright sin!”

“She’d have a job—with two of ’em at once!” Margot murmured wickedly to her nearest neighbour.

“I’m sorry for whoever it is if it’s any of ours,” Rikki returned in the same murmur. “Matey will cope all right.”

“What are you doing about a sweet?” that redoubtable lady demanded at this point. “Miss Ferrars says ours are ruined.”

“The Maynards are going to borrow from home. You’d better be off, you five. Time’s flying.”

Accompanied by her sisters, Rosamund, and Carmela, Len set off at her best pace while the others helped to lay the tables again, occasionally having to pause to sneeze. Even now, pepper was lingering in the air.

They returned before long, each clutching an enormous bottle in each arm. The mistresses heaved sighs of relief. That was one problem solved.

“Mamma wasn’t in,” Len said, “but Anna gave us these and she’s bringing over some more herself and every tin of evaporated milk we own to serve with the fruit. She said there wouldn’t be time to make fresh custard.”

“And she’s pulling a lot of fresh lettuce as well,” Con added.

“Good for Anna! Take that fruit into the kitchen, open it and fill the bowls,” Miss Ferrars commanded, taking charge, since the other two were at the far end of the room. “Hurry, girls! The gong’s late as it is.”

By the time the bowls full of Anna’s plums floating in a golden syrup had been set in their places on the tables and jugs, filled with the evaporated milk Anna had brought down as well, had been added, everything looked much as usual. Jo and her crowd washed and shredded the fresh lettuce at top speed, and it was tossed in on top of the rest. The little jugs of dressing were carried in and the piled-up plates of bread-and-butter which they had found set away with damp cloths over them to keep the bread fresh. At last it was all done. The gong was half-an-hour late and some of the elder girls had begun to ask what had happened. The younger ones, needless to state, were only too pleased to have bedtime put off like this.

The two mistresses and Matron had warned their helpers once more to say nothing to the rest until they were given permission. With everyone scattered about the grounds, they had not been missed, so though there was plenty of comment both on the lateness of the meal, the odd-looking salads and the very queer lemonade, no one questioned them or even thought they could know anything about it. Most of the Seniors charitably decided that the heat was the cause of the difference, and even Karen and her band, coming along later, knew nothing about it till next day. In any case, when the meal ended, Mdlle, as doyenne of the Staff, had an announcement to make before they left the room which caused even this unpleasant trick to fade into the background for those who knew of it.

Just before Grace, she rang the bell on the Staff table. Everyone stopped talking and turned to look up the room to where she stood, all her usual gaiety banished. They wondered what could be wrong. A minute later, they knew.

“One moment, mes filles,” she said in quiet tones. “I have sad news for you and I know you will be sympathetic. I think all Seniors have known that the father of Verity Carey and Mary-Lou Trelawney has had a very serious operation. It was hoped that his strength would be enough, but it is not so. He died early this morning. Mary-Lou and Verity are going to join Mrs Carey in Edinburgh where the operation was performed. They are going on the night-plane from Basle and Miss Annersley is going with them. During Prayers and your own prayers at bedtime, will you pray for them all, please? It is all we can do just now, but I know it will help them—Mrs Carey and the girls in their bereavement, especially. Now I will say Grace and you will clear and we will have Prayers immediately. After that, everyone below Inter V will go up to bed. Please go quietly, children.” She glanced at the tables where the Junior Middles and Juniors were congregated. Then she nodded. The small faces turned towards her were all very grave. “That is all. I will say Grace now and will the prefects make haste with the clearing, if you please?”

The elder girls had glanced at each other in dismay at the news. Mary-Lou Trelawney had been a great favourite throughout her school career and her influence on all who knew her had been strong. Even now, when she had left the school proper for St Mildred’s, more than one of the girls had gone to her for help and advice. Most of them were quite fond of Verity Carey, too, though she had never made the mark on the school that her “sister-by-marriage”, as the pair insisted on calling it, had made.

“Oh, poor Mary-Lou and Verity!” Con murmured to Len as they sat side by side, at Prayers, waiting for Mdlle, who was responsible for that service with the Catholic girls. “And poor Auntie Doris! What will she do?”

Len saw further into the future than she did. “I’m sorry for Verity and Auntie Doris,” she returned in the same low tones, “but the one I’m sorriest for is Mary-Lou. I’ll explain later.”

There was no time for more. The second bell rang as she ended and silence fell. But the girls prayed very earnestly as they had been asked.

Later, when the younger ones had gone to bed and the Seniors were out in the garden, Len’s own clan gathered round her and Con asked what she had meant.

“I know she’ll be sorry, but after all, it isn’t as if Uncle Roland had been her own father,” she said. “I think it’s worse for Verity.”

Len stared at her. “Oh, don’t you see?” she burst out. “This may mean the end of Mary-Lou’s career!”

“But how?” Rosamund asked in puzzled tones.

“Of course it may—very likely will. What was she going in for?”

“Archaeology—after she was through with Oxford,” Ruey Richardson said.

“Exactly! Well, that would almost certainly have meant that she had to go abroad. She’s often said so. How can she do it now? Auntie Doris will want her. What’s more, she’ll need her. So, for that matter, will Verity. You know yourselves how Verity’s always hung on to Mary-Lou. I’m awfully afraid this is going to mean that she must give it up altogether. She won’t leave those two to struggle along as best they can while she’s sporting about in the Middle East or Egypt or wherever else it would be.”

“No; you’re right there,” Margot agreed. “Some folk might—but not Mary-Lou. Oh, Len! I do hope you’re wrong! She’s wanted it for such ages!”

“Do you really think she’ll give up?” Ted Grantley asked.

“Absolutely certain if she thinks she’s needed. She couldn’t do anything else. You see,” Len explained, “they have practically no other relations. Verity has those distant cousins in Ireland, but she’s not too fond of them. And Auntie Doris and Mary-Lou’s father were both only children. You know she hasn’t any real aunts, or uncles. And though the two Barrases live with them Clem has her own job and Tony’s just a kid. He’s younger than Mary-Lou. It would be all right in the hols, but what’s going to happen in term-time?”

“Oh, gosh!” Ted exclaimed. “What a ghastly business! But look here, Len, couldn’t Mrs—Mrs Carey go round with Mary-Lou?”

“But that would leave Verity out,” Margot said quickly. “Anyhow, Auntie Doris isn’t any too strong. I don’t think she could stand moving around like that—nor the hot climates,” she added as an afterthought.

Len nodded. “She never could.”

“But,” Rosamund asked slowly, “won’t Mrs Carey insist that Mary-Lou doesn’t wreck her career like that? Mum would, I know.”

Len laughed ruefully. “You don’t know Auntie Doris! She probably will try to do just that, but she won’t get anywhere. She’s awfully sweet and gentle—I’m awfully fond of her—but she just can’t stand alone. And she certainly can’t stand out if Mary-Lou digs her toes in.”

“But at least Mary-Lou can have her course at Oxford,” Con put in. “That’s not so very far from Howells.”

“She’ll do that, I expect,” Len agreed, “but I’m positive she won’t go prancing off any distance and leave those two alone.”

“Verity’s going in for singing, isn’t she?” Sue Mason asked.

Len nodded. “Yes; she means to teach, but she’ll have to go to the Royal College of Music first. That’s all arranged. When she has her A.R.C.M., I think she’ll try to get a job in a school. She’s not good enough to go in for concert work. I mean her voice isn’t big enough. But she can teach and that’s what she means to do.”

“Let’s hope she doesn’t get a school miles away from Howells!” Con said sharply. “However, it’ll be two or three years before anyone need worry about that.”

“It’s going to be awfully hard lines on Mary-Lou if she has to give up her career,” Rikki Fry said. “She’s gone head-on at it ever since I knew her, and if she has to give it up now when she’s just ready to begin—well, I know I couldn’t. If anyone told me I must give up working among porcelains, I’d go outright crackers!”

“Oh, no, you wouldn’t!” Len said sturdily. “At least, if you did, you’d be a jolly limp specimen and not worth knowing. But if it came, you’d do it all right. Any of us would, I think.”

Con spoke again. “The thing is, Rikki, you don’t know Auntie Doris. So far as that goes, you don’t really know Verity. A more helpless pair to be left to manage on their own I can’t imagine!”

“But Mrs Trelawney had to manage before when Mary-Lou’s father died,” Rikki argued. “How did she do it then? Mary-Lou was only a small kid, I know.”

“Her Gran was there then,” Len replied. “Mr Trelawney was her son and she lived with them from the beginning, even before he went off with the Murray-Cameron Expedition. She ran them when he’d gone. I know Mary-Lou thought the world of her and really looked up to her. She can’t exactly look up to Auntie Doris. It’s Auntie who will look up to Mary-Lou now. But Gran died—oh, three years or so ago.”

Margot suddenly spoke. “I wonder if Verity is as helpless as we’ve all thought. She can be obstinate enough, you know. Remember that business years ago when the school was at Plas Howell, when she wouldn’t join in a carol that was German? She stuck to it for ages, even though it nearly meant that she was out of all the fun of the Christmas concert and everyone ticked her off about it. If she could do that then, she might wake up and do things now.”

“She might,” Len said, “but I doubt it.”

“Well, so do I, really,” Margot agreed. “What’s wrong with her? She’s so moony and—and—well—not soppy, exactly——”

“Oh, you couldn’t call her soppy,” Rosamund said in rather shocked tones. “I think it’s more that she lets things drift along and doesn’t bother to see where she might tackle things herself. Perhaps if Mary-Lou left her to find her own feet she’d do it. But I agree she wouldn’t be much help to anyone else,” she added rather hopelessly.

“Oh, well, if she can stick out things in the face of everyone ticking her off, perhaps she’ll face this business now and do what she can to help Mary-Lou,” Ruey said optimistically.

“If she doesn’t, she’ll be disgustingly selfish, I think,” Rikki commented severely.

“No; I’m sure it isn’t selfishness. It’s just that she moons on and doesn’t bother to think,” Len said instantly. “Oh, well, we can’t do anything about it, though I wish we could. Mary-Lou’s always been so decent. There’s the bell! Most of you mayn’t have a crew of kids cocking an eye to see if you keep to rules and acting accordingly, but I have. They ought to be asleep, of course, but I’m prepared to bet that quite half of them are awake, even now. Come on! I can’t afford to be late for anything when they’re around—worse luck!” And she led the way in with a rush.

“I don’t see what we can do about it. I’m positive none of our own crowd had anything to do with it—not after the way we questioned them and the answers they gave. At the same time, we haven’t a farthing’s worth of real evidence against those young demons from the Pension, so we can’t very well go and ask them what they mean by it.” Josette heaved a deep sigh. “Oh, dear! This is my very last term here and I did so hope we’d have a peaceful term!”

“Talk sense! You’ll have next year as a Millie. I know it’s not quite the same thing, but it’s the Chalet School,” Jessica Wayne said soothingly.

“That’s all you know. Millie’s is off so far as I’m concerned.”

“What?” The entire band of prefects sat back and looked at their Head Girl in consternation. “Not going to be a Millie? Why on earth not?”

“Come off it, Josette,” Gwen Parry added. “You’ll have to try a bigger bait than that, my dear. This isn’t the First of April!” Then, as their eyes met, “You don’t mean to say it’s true?”

Josette nodded gloomily. “Don’t blame me for it. I’ve done all I could in the way of argument, not to mention getting Aunt Joey to pitch in, too. It’s no use. Mummie’s dug her toes in and that’s that.”

“But—but why?” Barbara Chester asked blankly.

“And why haven’t you said anything about it before?” Clare added.

“Because I was still hoping against hope that Mummie would see my point of view. I had a letter this morning and she says quite definitely that she wants me with them in Australia. I’ll be eighteen in September, and she says that I can speak French and German and that I have my matric. I’m going in for radiology, but there won’t be a vacancy in the hospital I’m going to for training until next summer. That’s why I was going on to Millie’s. Now that Dad has to go to Adelaide for this big world conference, she’s going with him and taking Sybs and the twins, and she wants me as well. The conference won’t go on for ever; but when it’s over, he’s been invited to inspect some big sans all over the Dominion and then to go on to New Zealand. She won’t go with him there, by the way. She says she’ll have had her share of travel by that time. But she knows that once I start on my job she’ll get precious little of me and she wants to have this final year. Ailie’s not going, of course. Aunt Joey will see to her and, at her age, it’s rather important that she shouldn’t be uprooted. I have had my full twelve years of school and I can study at home—which, I gather, is to be a flat Emerence Hope’s people are lending us for the duration. Anyhow, there it is. Now give it a miss and let’s get back to our immediate and most pressing problem. What are we going to do about it? If those young monkeys think they’re going to be allowed to walk in and out of the school and play disgusting tricks like that on us, they’ve got another think coming. The thing is, how can we prevent it? It looks to me as if we’ll need a few full-time police on the job.”

“Ye-es; it does look rather like that,” Gwen Parry agreed after a quick glance at her friend. “Anyone got any bright ideas on the subject?”

“It wouldn’t have happened if we hadn’t all been out of the way—including Karen and Co,” Maeve Bettany said thoughtfully. “Of course, the place was left wide open as usual. I suppose—but no; we could hardly do that.” She stopped aggravatingly.

“Hardly do what?” her cousin demanded.

“Ask the Head to lock up in future. She’d want to know why and you did say we’d better keep this affair to ourselves if we could. Why, by the way?”

Josette surveyed them doubtfully. Then she made up her mind. “I’ll tell you, but you’ve all got to swear not to let it out. That understood? O.K.,” as the prefects agreed in a body. “Here it is, then. The Abbess has a full plate at any time in the summer term. To make things worse, her favourite cousin died during the Easter holidays. You remember Nell Randolph, Peggy Bettany’s pal, that she met when they made that mistake on the train ages ago the year Peg was Head Girl? It’s her mother.”

Maeve looked serious. “I know. Peg and Nell have been pals ever since. She couldn’t come to Peg’s wedding because her mother was ill at the time. Poor old Nell! What will she do?”

“She was teaching at St Agnes, you remember. I expect she’ll just go on there. They had a tiny house in Carnbach and Nell lived at home and went to the school daily. I don’t know if she’ll go on with that.”

“Probably not,” Christine Vincent remarked, but Josette broke in.

“Look here! We haven’t any time for side-tracks. Just you stop nattering just now and think what we can do to choke those young demons off.”

Recalled to business, they turned their minds once more to the problem.

“It’s a nasty snag,” Gwen said. “We can’t very well do police ourselves during matches and so on. Even if we aren’t playing, we’re supposed to be present to look after the rank and file. There’d soon be questions asked if we were absent.”

“And,” put in Aimée Robinet, “even if we were to do it by turns, we have no proper proof that it was those girls. Me, I do not see what we can do about it.”

“We’ve no actual proof,” Josette agreed, “but I’ll eat every hat I own if it wasn’t!”

They all felt like that. What they were to do about it, however, was beyond them at the moment.

“I suppose the only thing we can do is to keep our eyes open and leave it as an unsolved mystery for the present,” Josette said finally.

“Why unsolved when it’s obvious who did it?” Jessica remarked. “Yes; I know we haven’t any proof, Josette. You needn’t rub it in again. But considering that those beauties seem to have sworn a feud against the school and there isn’t anyone else likely to do it, I should say it was not a question of ‘unsolved’. More like ‘not proven’ to me.”

There they had to leave it and, as the gong sounded for Abendessen at that point, the meeting ended.

Meanwhile, the people responsible for it were chortling to themselves. These were Val and Celia. Audrey would have scorned to take part in anything so childish, so they had kept it from her. Solange was away, staying with cousins who had come for a fortnight’s holiday to Montreux, so there had been no point in including her, either. Win was too much of a baby. It had been Val’s idea and Celia had joined in with a chuckle. The pepper had been bought when they were in Interlaken one day and they had watched their opportunity ever since. The tennis match had given it to them and they had done their work thoroughly.

Audrey might have found out they were up to something, but Audrey had her own worries. She knew that her father had not been making progress during the past week or so, though Mrs Everett kept her troubles to herself. But Audrey, now fifteen, sensed that all was not as it ought to be. Her mother’s quiet, “Daddy’s not quite so well, so I must be more with him for the next few days” had given her a hint, and she had not heard the conversation among the other guests for nothing. She had taken full charge of Win and did her best to set the others a good example by working steadily during lesson hours. More she could not do. Val and Celia found her rather aloof and disinclined for wild doings, so they had kept their idea to themselves.

Not that Audrey was any more reconciled to the school, its members and its doings than she had been from the first; but she had less time to think about it just now and she was really anxious about her father. Celia was sufficiently under her influence to behave herself on the whole, and Val had either to follow suit or be left out. Being a gregarious young thing, nothing could have appalled her more, so she fell into line and the elders of the party were able to feel with some relief that the children were safe enough. The pepper episode had been an isolated outbreak on the part of the “Middle Ages”, as Audrey had once called them to their great indignation. Once it was over, they neither dared confess it to her nor talk about it much. Besides, as they had had no idea how the school had taken it, it had fallen very flat for them.

“We’ll have to think of something quite different—something we can see the results of for ourselves,” Val pronounced. “All the same,” and she giggled, “I’ll bet they were mad!”

It was at the end of the next week that Win, who was not so sturdy as her sisters, went down with a heat attack. She was fretful and whiney one day. Her appetite vanished and Mrs Everett, bathing her at bedtime, found her hot and dry and took her temperature. She was up and, later on, inclined to wander. The next day, thanks to the cooling mixture her mother had brought with her from England, the temperature dropped, but she was weak and inclined to cry. Mr Everett was a little better again. His wife sent a letter by Audrey and gave herself up to the baby for the day.

Audrey dawdled along to the sanatorium where she had a half-hour’s visit with her father. Secretly, she was rather alarmed to see him so thin and with such flushed cheeks and that tiresome little dry cough; but she held her tongue and said nothing. Matron, telling her she might see him, had warned her not to excite him in any way. She told him about their morning lessons and the walks they took, but, on the whole, she was glad when Nurse came and turned her out.

There was plenty of time, so she strolled back, going round by the back path. When she was well away from everyone, she found a little nook where she sat down on an old tree-stump and thought things out as far as she could.

“Daddy’s pretty bad,” she thought as she tugged idly at some tough grass. “Why didn’t Mum tell us how bad it was? Or me, at any rate. I’m not a baby now. I should have been told.”

She dared go no further in her thinking, but she did not want to go back to the Pension and the chatter of Celia and Val. She sat where she was. Her thoughts were vague and unhappy, but she felt she could not take them to her mother.

“I wish I’d someone to talk to. But even Solly wouldn’t be much use,” she decided. “Oh, if only I’d been able to belong to the Camp Fire, I could have written to the Guardian and she’d have helped me. As it is, there’s just no one.”

She spoke her last thought aloud without an idea that anyone was within hearing. So it came as a shock when a very clear voice demanded, “How’s that?”

Audrey jumped, literally. Then she turned round and stared.

A tall girl was standing behind her, looking at her with blue eyes that had a question in them, but kindness as well. She was carrying a wide-brimmed hat, as they were in the shade here, and her brown hair seemed full of sunshine. There was a certain authority about her, but Audrey made no mistake. This was no mistress from the hated school. She was much too young for that. Before she could get any further, the stranger had come round and was standing facing her.

“Anything wrong?” she asked. “Can I do anything, by any chance?”

Audrey stood up. “I don’t think anyone can,” she said with an effort. “It—it’s Dad, you see. I’ve just been visiting him and—and I didn’t know before how ill he is.”

The blue eyes grew soft. “Like that, is it?”

Audrey nodded, incapable of speaking for the lump in her throat. But she was not going to cry before a stranger. The stranger saw and guessed.

“What’s your name?” she asked abruptly. “I’m Mary-Lou Trelawney. I just came back late last night, so they left me to sleep this morning and when I did get up, I was too late to do anything, and Bill said I’d better come out and get an airing before Mittagessen.”

“I’m Audrey Everett,” Audrey replied curtly.

Mary-Lou nodded. She had heard of the Everetts and Co from Len and her friends and she knew about Mr Everett from Joey Maynard. She also knew better than to say anything sympathetic. She guessed how near the tears were and that Audrey would loathe any outsider who made them fall.

“I know what a shock it can be,” she said. “Still, isn’t your father improving again now? Seems to me I heard someone say something about it.”

Audrey nodded. “That’s what Mother said when she sent me with the note to say she couldn’t visit him till later on as Win is so rotten. Win’s my kid sister,” she added in explanation.

“What’s wrong with her—heat?” Mary-Lou demanded, still keeping things on the earthly plane.

“I think so. She gets that way in hot weather and then she wants Mother all the time. It’s nothing much. She’ll be all right by tomorrow or next day, but she is just a kid.”

“I know. My sister-by-marriage is rather like that, though she’s better than she used to be. It’s a thing you often grow out of,” Mary-Lou replied.

“Your sister-by-marriage?” Audrey gasped.

“Yes; her dad married my mother. We aren’t real sisters and we’re not stepsisters, of course. That was as near to it as we could come. See?”

“Yes, I think so.”

“Verity’s tiny and frail-looking—not much like me! I don’t think it means anything much, but when we were kids, it used to alarm Matey at school. She got used to it, of course. Trust Matey! But great heat always did do Verity in at first. Now, as I say, she isn’t nearly so bad.”

“Are you staying up here?” Audrey asked. She was not interested in the unknown Verity. “Whereabouts are you?”

Before Mary-Lou could reply, there came the sound of wheels and then a golden voice cried delightedly, “Mary-Lou! So you’re back again? How’s your mother? And where is Verity?”

Mary-Lou swung round, her face lighting up. “Aunt Joey! And the twins! I came back last night—got in about midnight, so Matron left me to sleep and, as I was late for any lectures, Bill sent me out for a breath of air.”

Audrey would have fled at sight of Mrs Maynard, but Mary-Lou had one hand on her shoulder and when she tried to slip away, the grasp tightened and she had to stand there. Mrs Maynard smiled at her.

“You’re the eldest Everett, aren’t you? Let’s see; your name’s Audrey, your mother told me. Pretty name. I like it.”

At this approach, Audrey gasped again and stared. Joey smiled again. “Come and look at our twins—second twins, by the way. The elder pair are at school now, of course, at St Nicholas’, the baby house of the Chalet School. You’ll find out all about us when you join us next term,” she added airily.

This took the wind completely out of Audrey’s sails. It was the first time she had heard that she or any of them were going to the school, and, all things considered, the shock was tremendous. She forgot her father in the surprise as she gasped aloud.

“Oh, hasn’t anyone told you?” Joey asked. “Am I letting cats out of bags? I must come and grovel to your mother. I’m sorry, Audrey. Well, why are you looking so pussy-struck about it? You must have known that since you’re likely to be out here some time, you’d have to come. No one’s going to let a girl of your age leave school unless it’s a real must.” She turned to Mary-Lou. “And now, how is your mother?”

“Not awfully fit,” Mary-Lou said soberly. “But Verity is even worse. She hasn’t come back with me. Mother said I must come and finish my year, but she’s kept Verity with her. They’ve gone back to Carn Beg for the present. I took them there two days ago and saw them settled in. Then I hopped back here. The Howells have promised me to keep an eye on those two and if I’m needed I can fly back at once. But Mother insisted I must have this at least. I’ve had to give up my ideas, you know. I can’t go flighting off to the Middle East or Central America or wherever it might be and leave those two to fend for themselves. I saw that at once. Mother did, too. That’s why—Hi! Come back, you little ass!”

For at this point, Audrey had suddenly wrenched herself free and was flying off over the turf, her mind in a complete whirl at all she had heard.

Joey looked after her. “Poor kid! I seem to have given her a shock.”

“I think she’d had one before that,” Mary-Lou said soberly. “She’d been visiting her dad and she doesn’t seem to have realised until now just how ill he’s been—still is, I suppose.”

“Yes, he’s been pretty ill,” Joey agreed. “He’s had a slight relapse this week, too, but he’s over that and Jack thinks he’ll make the grade, though it’s likely to be a long, slow business and, of course, with a thing like T.B. you never know.”

“No; that’s true.”

“Mary-Lou, I’ve had an idea. What about your mother coming out here for a time—in a few weeks, say? Perhaps when the holidays begin. Switzerland suits her and if she had a few months up here it would do her good. You’re still going to have your Oxford course, aren’t you? You’re not giving that up?”

“Honestly, Aunt Joey, I don’t know. I want a job of some sort, of course, but—you know how I’ve worked towards archaeology all these years. I must look round and see what I can find that my work will be a help in. I’m not going to waste all those years, I can assure you.”

“Your English!” Joey said.

“Never you mind about my English. You set that great mind of yours to work and help me to plan for the future. It’s a good idea of yours, that Mother should come out here. She’s going to be very lonely, you know, if I do go to Oxford. Verity will pull herself together presently and then she’ll be off to the Royal College for her training. If both of us are away during terms, it means Mother will be more or less alone. I can’t make any decisions yet. I’ve got to wait and see how things look like panning out.”

“I suppose so. But first, we’ll get your mother out here. We’ve heaps of room at Freudesheim, as you know. She can have her own rooms and she needn’t be with us any more than she likes. I’ll admit my household isn’t exactly a tranquil one. You couldn’t do it with a crowd like ours.”

“You’ll have only the nursery trio left next term!” Mary-Lou retorted. “Felix and Felicity will have to be full-time boarders once the bad weather comes, anyhow. The rest already are. That’ll leave you with Cecil and this pair. I think it’s a jolly decent scheme. I’m all for it. Though whether Mother will agree or not, I couldn’t tell you.”

“She’ll agree if you back me up!” Joey retorted in her turn. “Don’t you tell me! If it hadn’t been for your Gran, you’d have grown up a most bossy creature. Doris will give in all right if you stick to it. And now, what’s wrong with Verity?”

“Fretting badly and losing weight and colour. It is awful for her, Joey.” In her earnestness, Mary-Lou forgot the complimentary title of aunt and used Joey’s name as she sometimes did alone. “She scarcely saw him before she was twelve and since then, he’s been in and out of hospital more than half the time. Now he’s gone. She’s hanging on to Mother as about all she has left. She never knew her own, of course. That’s one reason why I cleared out—to give them a clear run for the present. Verity will pull herself together soon, I hope. If not, I’ll have to go home and take a hand. But it’s still very near as yet.”

Joey had been stooping over the pram, settling her small Philippa more comfortably. Still bending, she looked up at the tall, handsome girl.

“Yes; I can just see it all. Well, I warn you fairly that I’m taking a hand. There is reason in all things, remember. Now are you walking back with me or are you going further on? I’d like you to come back so far, anyhow. We’ve got an insoluble problem and you might be able to help.”

“What problem?”

“Audrey Everett, for one thing.”

“Audrey Everett? Oh, you mean that kid I was talking to when you hopped along.”

“Her—and four others,” Joey returned, casting grammar to the winds. “Come along and I’ll tell you what I can in the short time. Want to push the pram? Oh, very well. I don’t mind. It’s not exactly a treat to me, you know.”

“I think it’s fun,” Mary-Lou responded as they set off. “Now get cracking and tell me what you can. I’ll come to tea on Sunday if I may and go into a huddle with you about—various things. I want to fill my mind for the present.”

So they went towards Freudesheim, Joey talking hard and Mary-Lou enjoying the fun of pushing the big double pram where the two babies, untouched by their elders’ gravity, chuckled and crooned and made remarks to themselves and each other.

When she went flying off like that, Audrey had no idea where she was going. All she knew was that she must be alone somewhere to digest this last startling piece of news thoroughly before she met the others. Unaware, she came to the back gate of the school’s playing-fields. No one was there at that time. She lifted the latch and went through. There was a big clump of bushes not far away. She headed for it and flung herself down on the ground at the far side and tried to get her thoughts into some sort of order.

Joey’s information that they would be out here for a long time to come was not quite such a shock as the rest. Since she had seen her father this morning, she had half-guessed it already. Though she had felt that there was much more to his illness than they had been told, Audrey had not realised how bad it was until then. Now she knew that before he was cured a very long time must elapse.

The question of school had not worried her too much. But now she could see that the Chalet School was the obvious answer. Their high school did not take boarders. They had no near relatives to take them and she thought it unlikely that any of their friends would want three girls for so long a time. She knew that boarding-school was out of the question. Though she had been as thoughtless as most girls in the early teens, Audrey was well aware that there was not much money in the family. Apart from his salary as chief cashier of the local branch of one of the banks, her father had very little. Their education in England had cost nothing, of course. But she did know that big school fees were an impossibility for them, for she had once asked if she might go to boarding-school when she was older and had been told that it couldn’t be afforded. Now, as she lay getting her breath after Joey’s surprising revelation, she began to take in the fact that her mother must be finding things fairly difficult.

“The Pension for the four of us must cost the earth,” she thought. “And, of course, I don’t suppose Dad’s screw is going on—or not as much, anyhow. I wonder if I could ask Mother about that? Better not, perhaps. She mightn’t like it. But you couldn’t expect the Bank to keep on paying him the same when he isn’t working and won’t be for ages—I can see that all right! There’s the rent from the house—but I don’t suppose it’s enough to make up the difference.”

For the first time in her life, Audrey’s eyes were opened to such things and, during those minutes under the bushes, she began to wake up from her childishness and to consider the more serious side of life.

“I’d better try to get Mother alone some time and thrash it all out with her,” she decided at last. “But if we don’t stay on at the Pension, I wonder what we’ll do?”

She scrambled to her feet, having settled this, looked round, and realised that she had unwittingly trespassed after vowing fiercely that nothing would make her do it again.

“I must get out of this before anyone comes,” she said to herself.

She was too late. At that very moment, the gate creaked and, glancing round, she saw one of the elder girls advancing on her. Josette Russell had been free that period and had been sent to St Mildred’s with a message from the Head. No one from the school ever went by the road if it were possible to cut across the playing-fields, and Josette, with a French lesson due in ten minutes, had naturally come by the shortest route. As she swung the gate to and latched it, she glanced round and beheld one of what she mentally stigmatised as “those pests from the Caramie” standing there, looking rather uncertain. This must be inquired into at once. Josette marched up to the lanky girl who was almost her own height and, looking very much the Head Girl, demanded, “What on earth are you doing here?”

“I—I didn’t mean to come,” Audrey stammered. “I—I’m sorry. I’m going at once.” She turned and, in her agitation, blundered into the bushes.

Not before Josette had seen her face properly, however, and what the Head Girl saw softened her tone as she said, “I say—is anything wrong?”

“I—I—no!” Audrey blurted out.

“But there is! Won’t you tell me?” Josette returned. Her vividly blue eyes were very kind as she added, “I might be able to help. And if you’re going back to the Caramie, you’d better come with me and go down the drive. It’s yards shorter than going round by the road. Come along!” She tucked a hand into Audrey’s unresisting arm and turned her towards the school.

Audrey was still so much overcome by what she had learned during the past two hours that she made no attempt to free herself. She went quite meekly with Josette, while that young woman racked her brains for something to say. As she could think of nothing, their journey was made in silence; but the Head Girl went right down to the gate with the trespasser and even Audrey felt that it was from kindness.

“Goodbye,” Josette said when they reached the gates. “Try to perk up! Things often aren’t nearly as bad as they look first go-off.”

“Thank you. Goodbye!” Audrey said in a low tone. She had gained control of her voice during that silent walk.

Josette waved to her and turned to hurry back into school. She had been much longer away than the Head would have expected and was already late for her French. At the same time, she was thinking to herself that, whoever had been responsible for the pepper riot, it was hardly likely that Audrey had had a hand in the matter.

“I hadn’t realised it, but she must be about the same age as the Trips,” Josette thought. “You don’t play disgusting tricks like peppering good food till it’s uneatable at that age. I wonder what’s wrong with her? She looked all in and rather as if she might howl at any moment.”

Then she had to give it up, fly to the study with Miss Wilson’s reply and then seek her form-room and apologise to Mlle de Lachennais for her lateness.

Audrey, walking more briskly along the road to the Pension, was revolving a good many new ideas in her mind. The first thing was to get her mother alone. She must know just how things stood before she said or did anything else. She found that she had to wait until late evening before she could do anything about it. Win was much better. She had slept on and off all day and was more like herself by what the party at the Pension still called “teatime”, though they got no actual tea. During the afternoon, Mrs Everett, who had been up most of the night with the small invalid, lay down for a rest in the same room. Audrey called Celia and Val, and told them to fetch their books and come and read in a sheltered nook, since it was too hot to do anything else. They were quite content and Audrey brought her own novel along, though she did little reading. She had too much on her mind for that.

In the early evening, Mrs Everett left Win in charge of her eldest sister and accepted a lift to the Sanatorium from one of the other visitors. She returned with the news that Daddy was going on better and the doctors were pleased with his progress. But until Celia and Val went to bed, there was no chance for Audrey to have a private talk with her. However, once they were safely there, she begged her mother to come for a stroll with her.

“Just a short one, then,” Mrs Everett said. “I had a night of it with Win and I’m tired. I’ll be glad of early bed myself.”

The worst of the heat had vanished so there was no need for hats. Mrs. Everett heaved a sigh of relief as they came out from the Pension and ran her fingers through her short fair curls which Win had inherited.

“Oh, what a delicious cool breeze!” she said. “How refreshing! Which way shall we go?”

“I thought along the road to Ste Valérie a little way,” Audrey said. “It’ll be quiet there and I want to talk to you.”

“Come along, then,” her mother agreed, after a quick glance in the other direction, which showed her the various visitors strolling about in twos and threes. “You’re quite right, Audrey. If we remain on the shelf we shall probably have half-a-dozen people joining us. I’ll be just as glad to be excused. Win has been a worry, poor baby!”

For the next few minutes, they walked along in silence. Audrey was trying to think how she could begin and her mother was simply enjoying the peace and freshness of the evening.

Mrs Everett broke it at last. “I thought you wanted a quiet talk with me? What’s worrying you, Audrey child?”

“How long are we going to stay here?” Audrey asked bluntly.

“I don’t quite know. Some time, I’m afraid. Your father is still very ill, even though he is really making a little progress now. I want to be near him and he wants to have me—all of us, in fact.”

“Then are we staying on at the Pension?” Audrey asked.

“Not if I can possibly find anywhere else,” Mrs Everett said energetically.

“That’s rather what I wondered,” Audrey said diffidently. “It must be costing the earth for the four of us.”

“It is—far more than we can really afford.”

“What are we going to do, then?”

“What I would like would be to find a furnished chalet up here. Mrs Gardiner would join us if we could find one big enough. She’s no better off than we are, and she’s finding it a tight fit, just as I am. Yet she will certainly have to stay quite as long as we do for Peter’s sake.” She broke off suddenly and looked curiously at the girl. “Why are you asking me about this sort of thing? You’ve never worried about expense before that I know of.”

“I don’t know. I suppose—well, I expect it’s because I’m beginning to grow up,” Audrey said slowly. “After all, I’m fifteen. You aren’t a kid at fifteen—or Miss Harvey used to say you oughtn’t to be. I just suddenly thought of it this morning. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Indeed not; I’m very glad. It’ll be a relief to have someone with whom I can talk things over. You’ll understand that I can’t worry Daddy with anything just now, won’t you? But if I have my eldest daughter, what a help it will be!”

“Will it? I wish I’d thought of it sooner,” Audrey said shyly. “I—I’d like to be a help if I could.”

Mrs Everett nodded. “My dear, the greatest possible help. I promise I won’t overburden you. You may be fifteen, but you aren’t a Methuselah yet and I don’t want you to try to become one. But to talk over our really private affairs with you will make things easier all round. There are certain things, you know, that one doesn’t care to talk over with friends, but only family. Thank you, Audrey!”

“Is Daddy really and truly getting better?” Audrey asked.

“The doctors here all think he is, but there may be set-backs from time to time and it will mean months out here, of course—perhaps years. But that won’t matter so long as he does get better. And now that we’re discussing things, this seems as good a time as any to tell you some of our future plans.”

“I met Mrs Maynard this morning,” Audrey said. “She—she said we were going to the school next term.”

“Then you know?”

“Only since this morning. I don’t think she knew you hadn’t told us, for she said she was letting cats out of bags and must grovel when she saw you.”

“That she certainly need not do. I’m only too thankful to hear that you know. I’ve been worrying about it; you girls seemed to have taken such a dislike to the school. Audrey, why was it?”

Audrey went scarlet. “Oh, it was just—well—things,” she said, none too lucidly.

Her mother shot a quick glance at her and decided to leave it alone. “Well, you’ll be all right when it comes, then. By the way, do the others know?”

“No; I’ve said nothing. I thought I’d ask you about it first. Mother—can we afford it? Isn’t it rather expensive?”

“We can afford it. You aren’t going to cost anything, except for clothes and pocket-money. Mrs Maynard offers a scholarship once in three years to girls of your age. The last holder will be leaving at the end of this term and she has offered it to you. I accepted gladly. We must manage the fees for Celia. Win is so young she can go on with me for the present. Now that Daddy is making headway again, I shall have more time.”

“They have a Kindergarten branch, haven’t they? Couldn’t we possibly manage to send Win there?”

“No; I’m afraid we couldn’t—or not at present. We must wait and see. I shall be thankful to have you and Celia settled. And you’ll drop your dislike of the school, won’t you? You know, dear, you can’t really know much, if anything, about them. You’ll probably enjoy the life there enormously, once you’ve begun.”

Audrey reddened again. She was remembering all her rudeness to Miss Dene and Len Maynard. Would they forget it and let her start fair? Or would they hold it against her and be on the look-out for more of the same sort of thing? But her mother was looking rather anxiously at her. She must say something.

“I’ll have a bash at it, anyhow,” she said.

“And do what you can with Celia and that imp, Val, as well, will you?”

“Is Val coming, too? And what about Solly?”

“I know nothing about her, but Val is coming. Peter is likely to have at least another year in the Sanatorium and Mrs Gardiner must be on hand in case of need. That means that Val must stay out here, too, and no one is going to let girls of eleven or twelve spend a year running wild. So far as Solange is concerned, I imagine it depends on what her aunt will do—later on.”

“Is Mdlle de Chaumontel very ill?” Audrey asked in awed tones.

“My dear girl, she is dying,” Mrs Everett said bluntly. “Don’t say anything to Solange when she comes back. Mme Charlot doesn’t want her to know until she must.”

“But I thought she was better this week? I’m sure Mme Charlot said so.”

“I know. But I saw Dr Maynard today and asked him about her and though he didn’t say so outright, I’m afraid he thinks this is just a last flash in the pan. T.B. is like that sometimes, when people let it go too long—as poor Mdlle de Chaumontel seems to have done.”

“I see. I won’t say a word to Solly.”

Mrs Everett saw the young face was troubled and changed the subject. “I do wish you girls would give that girl her proper name! ‘Solange’ is so pretty and ‘Solly’ is really awful. How would you like it if they always called you ‘Aud’?”

“I should loathe it!” Audrey said with emphasis. “I don’t think Solly—sorry! Solange—really minds though. She said the only thing she really hated was when people called her ‘So—lange’ when the name is really ‘Sol—ange’. That really does make her see red.”

“I don’t blame her.” Mrs Everett had been named “Josepha” after her grandmother and she had often found it irritating to be called “Jo-see-pha”. She could sympathize with Solange.

Audrey looked at her mother, a spice of mischief in her face. “Why don’t we call Win by her proper name? She really is ‘Winifred’, but she’s been ‘Win’ from the word ‘Go!’ nearly.”

“That was Celia. Don’t you remember how slow she was over talking? She found the name too hard for some reason or other and so used ‘Win’. I’ve let it go, but once she goes to school, she’ll be Winifred. I’ll ask you to back me up in that.”

“Oh, I will! I think ‘Win’ sounds idiotic.”

“I’m glad. And now I think we ought to turn back. I’m tired, if you aren’t, and I really would like a good long night.”

“O.K. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to walk you to death, but I forgot. Win’s all right now, isn’t she? I mean she’s not likely to disturb you tonight?”

“I don’t expect it for a moment. She’s weak after the temperature, but that’s passing. Thank goodness, she may be quickly down, but she’s equally quickly up. Keep her out of the sun as far you can when you’re out, Audrey, and see that she keeps her hat on all the time.”

“I’ll see to all that. Don’t worry about us. Celia generally does as I say and I can deal with Win.”

“It’s all a help.”

Thereafter, they talked of other things until they reached the Pension. People were returning from their strolls and two or three paused to ask after Mr Everett. When she could, Mrs Everett got away with Audrey, and they hurried upstairs where the younger ones were fast asleep.

“Win’s cool and quiet,” their mother told the elder girl, having investigated before she came to say goodnight. “She’ll probably sleep the clock round and be herself tomorrow. Now you must be off, too. But I’m very glad to know that you’ve begun to wake up and to grow up! Only don’t grow up too quickly. I’d like a big schoolgirl daughter for the next two or three years. Now I’m going. Bless you, my big daughter!”

The first weekend in June was half-term that summer. As usual, the school was mainly going off in parties to visit other cantons in Switzerland. A couple of mistresses and two or three prefects went with each party, and great was the excitement when the lists finally went up on the notice-board in hall and they knew their various destinations. No one had any time or thought for the gang from the Pension Caramie after that.

Not everyone went. Quite a number of those whose homes were near enough went home. The three Maynards and Ruey Richardson were among these. It was now practically certain that Ruey’s father had gone for good when he joined another space-mad scientist in an attempt on flying to the moon. Ruey and her brothers, wards of Joey and Jack Maynard, had been firmly adopted into the family and looked on Freudesheim as home, even though cousins of their long-dead mother had made contact with them and would have seen to it that they were not left alone if it had been necessary.

Ruey herself had summed it up during the Easter holidays. “They’re kind—they’re awfully kind. But somehow we seem to belong to you and Uncle Jack, Aunt Joey, more even than to them. This is home to all three of us.”

Now she marched up the garden path at Freudesheim when they had seen the rest of the school off, all very excited, feeling one with the triplets.

Joey came running lightly across the lawn to welcome them.

“I’m going to be thoroughly lazy,” Len announced, dropping her case to hug her mother. “Auntie Hilda has made us all swear solemnly that we won’t touch a single lesson-book the entire week-end. Therefore, I, for one, mean to take my ease. I’ve slogged hard all this year and I feel I deserve it.”

Joey chuckled and turned from her to the rest. When she had kissed them all round, she faced them. “That’s what you think. I’ve got several nice little jobs for you people. For one thing, Auntie Doris is coming here next week to stay for the rest of the summer, at any rate. I’m giving her those two rooms on your floor along at the east end. They’ve got to be put into decent order. We haven’t done a thing to them and it’s high time we did. So we five are spending the mornings colour-washing and titivating them in readiness. In the afternoon, we’ll have picnics and otherwise enjoy ourselves; but you must earn your picnics. You won’t have a chance to touch a book, I can assure you all of that.”

“What’s happening to Verity?” Con demanded.

“Verity goes straight to St Mildred’s. Much the best thing for her. She’ll be all right, once she gets there. Mary-Lou will look after her.”

“Has Mary-Lou gone home?” Margot queried.

“Of course. She’s bringing those two out and before that there’s a good deal of packing to do. They’re bringing their household linen and the silver has to be put away. Auntie Doris has let Carn Beg for the next three months so they’re clearing the things they don’t want to leave for the tenants into old Mrs Trelawney’s room and locking it up.”

“Then they will need Mary-Lou,” Margot said with conviction. “What colour are we doing those rooms?”

“A very pale pink for the bedroom and primrose-yellow for the sitting-room. When we’ve done that, we must hunt through our stores and furnish them. As we didn’t need those rooms, they’re as empty as they were when we first came.”

“You can use anything of our lot that you like, Aunt Joey,” Ruey remarked.

“I will if I need to; but I think we can manage. Thanks a lot, though.” Joey gave Ruey a smile and turned to Len who was remarking, “It sounds luscious!”

“Of all the impossible adjectives to use! ‘Luscious’ is just what they won’t be. Can you imagine Auntie Doris liking anything like that?”

“Oh, well! You know what I mean. We’d better take the curtains down tonight so that we can hoe in first thing tomorrow. Do the floors need washing?”

“Not until the colouring is finished. No good making two bites at a cherry; and I know all too well what they’ll be like before we’re finished. Now fly and unpack your cases and make your beds. Then come down to the rose garden and elevenses will be awaiting you.”

“Can do. Where are the infants, by the way?”

“Fast asleep, so don’t wake them, whatever you do. I’ve just got them off.”

“We’ll be careful. Come on, folks!”

Len led the way into the house, her sisters following her. Only Ruey lingered. Joey smiled at her. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, really. I was only wondering if we can do the work decently enough.”

Joey laughed. “I can do it all right. I’ve colour-washed more rooms than one in my time and I’ll soon show you folk how to tackle it. Now scram and be back here quickly. We’ll go for a walk this afternoon. Rösli can look after the small fry and, thank goodness, St Nicholas had their half-term last weekend!”

Ruey laughed with her and skipped off upstairs to the pretty room beside Len’s. She found the others hard at work already, unpacking their cases and stowing away the contents in the drawers. When they had done that, they had to turn to and make their beds. Anna, Joey’s factotum, had laid out the clean linen for them and the blankets were there, too. It was an easy job for the girls trained to the ways of the school. They left their doors open, for they knew that the babies would be taking their morning nap in the garden, and all talked hard.

“Auntie Hilda said we weren’t even to think of exams,” Len chuckled, as she shook her pillow into its case. “With all this on our plates, we certainly can’t do that.”

“I’m not sorry, either,” Con called. “I had meant to have a good go at geometry until she spoke. However, that idea’s washed out. I’m glad to have something entirely different to think of. If I fail, I fail. That’s all.”

“D’you think we’ll have to do the ceilings as well as the walls?” Ruey asked, slamming her last drawer home.

“Mamma never mentioned it. I expect she’s had a man on that job. But the walls do need doing. They’re horribly faded. Luckily, there’s no need to paint the woodwork. It’s polished pinewood like all the rooms. I expect, though,” Len added, tucking in her sheet, “that when we’ve finished that wood will need washing and polishing. Must have them as pretty as we can for Auntie Doris.”

“I’ve thought of something,” Con announced. “Auntie Doris hasn’t ever been frightfully strong, you know. Remember those ghastly colds she used to get every winter?”

“I do—and how ill she was with flu’ at the time Mary-Lou had that accident. She and Uncle Roland came out to the Rösleinalp for a year after that. She was much better when they went home. I heard Papa say it to Mamma. But she’s had all this worry about him and then—well, he’s died. I should think she’ll be feeling simply awful. The summer up here ought to help her, though.”

“I was just wondering,” Con began. Then she stopped.

“What were you wondering?” Margot asked. She had been setting a gay little clock—a gem of a clock—on her windowsill after winding it up and setting it right. She gave it a wistful look.^[6] It was a keepsake from her bosom friend, Emerence Hope, and Emerence had left school nearly a year ago now and Margot still missed her sorely. It was only now that she cared to set out the little clock with the flashing rhinestone chips rimming its face. There were unpleasant memories connected with it as well as her love for Emerence, now at the other side of the world. But she had told herself that it was silly to go on hiding the pretty toy, so she put it out and stood looking at it, a flush on her cheeks.

“I don’t believe Len and Con ever think of that now,” she said aloud. “Anyhow, it’s about all I’ve got left of Emmy. I like Ruey, but even she can never take Emmy’s place. Oh, dear!”

Then she heard Ruey’s voice through the open door. “What’s Mrs Trelawney—I mean Mrs Carey—like?” Ruey was asking. “Is Mary-Lou anything like her?”

“Not in the least,” Len said, coming out of her own room and leaning against the door of Ruey’s. “Mary-Lou’s tall and—well—not exactly bossy but she does run things. You ought to know that. Auntie Doris is on the small side. She’s very fair and gentle——”

“I shouldn’t call Mary-Lou dark,” Ruey put in.

“Oh, no! But—well—Mary-Lou has colour and Auntie Doris——”

“Auntie Doris is like a pastel portrait and Mary-Lou is an oil-colour,” Con spoke from her room.

“Yes; that’s exactly it! Good for you, Con! And she—they—are like that in their minds, too. Auntie Doris is sweet and gentle. You always feel you ought to look after her. Can you imagine anyone feeling like looking after Mary-Lou?”

“Rather not! I should say she was the one to do the looking after.”

“Mother says Mary-Lou takes after her Gran,” Margot said. “She was a bosser if you like! Even Mary-Lou had to toe the line when she spoke.”

“Of course,” Con said thoughtfully, “Auntie Doris is older. She’s much older than Mamma. You know how she goes on and she’s ready to fool about with us at almost any time. I can’t imagine Auntie Doris ever doing that.”

Margot had finished her work and come to join Len. “Don’t you remember Mother telling us that Auntie Doris was much older than her when she married. I suppose that makes a difference. Mother never had a chance to be grown-up because we three came along before she was twenty-two. It’s bound to have made a difference.”

“Anyhow, we can’t explain her any better to you,” Len wound it up. “You’ll understand when you meet her. Aren’t you finished yet?”

“Just about.” Ruey tossed the pretty counterpane over the bed, twitched it straight and stood up. “I’ve finished!” She swung round on Con. “What was it you were wondering, Con?”

“Only how badly all this has affected Auntie Doris. It’s been enough to make her ill again. And it sounds as if she’d had to cope with Verity as well.”

“I know,” Len said as they closed the doors and went downstairs. “I was rather surprised she made Mary-Lou come back when she did. But it looks to me as if she guessed that all this meant the end of Mary-Lou’s ideas about a career so she made up her mind she should have all she could. I only wonder she managed to stick her toes in hard enough to make her do it.”

“Evidently she did. It’s rotten luck for Mary-Lou,” Ruey said.

Then they were in the garden and had to drop the subject. The family pet, Bruno, a beautiful St Bernard, came tearing round the corner of the house to greet them. When you have several stones of hefty St Bernard flung at you, you go down. Margot bore the brunt of it and she fell flat, tripping up Ruey as she went. Wild shrieks uprose, for Bruno was making the most of his chances and kissing them both wetly and thoroughly. Len and Con also yelled as they united to drag him off and were tackled in their turns. In fact, they made so much noise that they woke Phil and Geoff, sleeping on their Li-lo in the rose-garden, and the indignant protests of two rudely awakened babies were added to the din. Joey came flying to the rescue and a stern order brought Bruno to his senses. The girls scrambled up, trying to straighten their frocks which had suffered under the dog’s onslaught, and Joey, requesting them to be quiet, fled to the rescue of her youngest pair.

The noise they made reached the high-road where the gang from the Caramie happened to be passing. Mrs Everett had to go to Berne on a shopping expedition and Mrs Gardiner had gone with her. Therefore the five—Solange had returned the night before from her trip to Montreux—had a holiday. Promises of good behaviour had been extracted from them and they had been given permission to have a picnic on condition that they did not stray far from the Platz and kept in the shade as far as they could. The sun had risen evidently intending to show what he could do when he tried, and no one wanted Win to have another heat turn.

“They seem to be having fun and games there,” Val remarked as they paused. “Listen to that dog of theirs barking! Have you seen him, Solly? He’s a St Bernard—a whizzer! I’d love one like him.”

“You couldn’t keep him out here,” Celia reminded her. “And I believe St Bernards cost the earth to feed.”

“Oh, I know. But I would like one, all the same!” Val’s eyes were wistful.

“It must be their half-term,” Celia remarked as they moved on. “I saw a whole string of motor-coaches going past when I was dressing this morning. D’you suppose they all go home for it?”

“Shouldn’t think so,” Audrey said. “It’s much too far for such a short time and it would cost the earth. Probably they go for expeditions. The Maynard crowd are different. They live up here.”

They sauntered on, chattering idly. As they passed the changing-rooms, Celia and Val caught each other’s eyes and giggled, remembering the stink-bombs.

“What’s the joke?” Audrey asked.

“Nothing,” Celia said in a hurry. “Val—looked at me.”

“If you go on making the faces you do, your face will stick that way some day, Val,” Audrey said with a giggle on her own account. “What a vision you’d be! Mrs Gardiner could put you in a freak show then!”

Val cast her a furious look but was wise enough to hold her tongue. They could guess what Audrey would have had to say about the pepper business and they were none too sure what she would think about the stink-bombs. As Celia had pointed out to her companion in sin, Audrey was getting sickeningly grown-up since she had had her fifteenth birthday and too prim for words. So they kept their evil doings to themselves.

They reached the railway and turned down to cross over the line by the station. They had all been well-warned about using the safety crossing and also of the need to look up and down and make sure no train was coming or going before they did so.

“Now which way?” Val asked when they were all safely over.

“But let us go down a little way and see where that path goes,” Solange proposed, nodding towards a path a little below. “I have often wondered.”

“So’ve I. O.K. We’ll do that. But we’d better not go too far along it, for I haven’t a clue where it leads nor what it’s like further along. It may narrow horribly, and I’m not risking having to go back and say one of you has gone over the edge.”

“What a shock they’d get!” Val chuckled. “It’s all right by me. Anyhow, I’m hungry. I vote we look out for a comfy place and have some eats.”

“Oh, and a drink! Me, I am parched with thirst!” Solange cried.

This set Win off. She demanded a drink at once. Audrey was nothing loth. They went along the path between the bushes of alpenroses that guarded it on either side until they came to a spot where the bushes vanished and there was only a stretch of turf, sweet with thyme and other wild herbs. A slight turn in the path just before brought them into the shade.

“Here’s the very place!” Val exclaimed. “We’ll squat here!”

“But ‘squat’—what is that?” Solange demanded.

“I’ll show you!” Val said, a naughty twinkle in her eyes. And she promptly squatted down exactly like an Indian native.

Solange regarded her with horror. “But I do not think I shall sit like that. I should suffer from la crampe. Me, I will repose me as I always do.” And she curled herself down on the turf, her back to the rock wall.

Audrey gave Val a severe look. “Sit like that if you like, but don’t blame us if you get needles and pins all over your legs and feet,” she said. “Come along, Win. Sit here by me. Shove that basket over, Celia, will you?”

Val decided to behave herself. She sprawled comfortably if inelegantly, and they had their meal in peace, though both Val and Celia argued about not going further to see where the path led to. Audrey dug her toes in, however. They grumbled, but Celia was bound by her promise to do as Audrey wished, and Val was too lazy, as well as quite aware that if she made a real nuisance of herself, Audrey might refuse to have her with them again when they went out. She was not going to risk that, so the argument died out.

Solange seized the opportunity to give them some news. “But think,” she remarked as they topped and tailed the great golden gooseberries that were their dessert, “when I was at Montreux, I met someone who was at the Chalet School many years ago. It was in Tirol then, and Mme Maynard was there, also.”

“In Tirol? Then why are they here in Switzerland now?” Celia demanded.

“It was because they had to leave for the war, and for many years after that the Russians ruled Tirol, so they could not go back and came here instead. Mme. Maclaren told me many exciting tales,^[7] how she and Mme Maynard, who was Joey Bettany then, and a number of others had to escape because the Nazis were looking for them to put them in prison. There was a great mist and they walked and walked for days and days. Dr Maynard was with them, and another doctor also. Often they were nearly caught and they had to enter Switzerland by the smugglers’ route. But at last they got here, and later they went to the Iles Normandes——”

“Where’s that?” Val interrupted.

“She means the Channel Isles,” Audrey said swiftly. “Jersey—Guernsey—Alderney—Sark—Herm—Jethou. Which one did they go to, Solly?”

“Guernsey, and it was there Mme Maynard and M. le docteur were épousés. Those triplets were born in Guernsey and then they had to fly to England because of the Germans. Oh, it was all so exciting! Audree, I think we may have made a mistake when we thought that the school was all bad. Mme Maclaren is très charmante, and she tells me that her days at school were among the happiest of her life. Do you not think perhaps we were wrong, my Audree?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Audrey said abruptly. “That woman came and turned us out and ticked us off all ends up.” She stopped there, flushing. She had never got over that ignominious ejection, nor the fact, of which she was now well aware, that they might have caused a bad fire, besides ruining the cricket pitch. And it had brought Camp Fire no nearer. Indeed, of late the younger ones seemed almost to have forgotten about it. She had not. She still longed for it. But how she was to attain it when, as her mother had told her, they were all to go to the Chalet School next term, was something she couldn’t see.

“But I think we were wrong,” Solange insisted. “I think perhaps if we knew them properly, we might, after all, like them. And that is well for me,” she continued placidly, “for last night Tante Mélanie told me I am to go there next term. All is arranged and Papa and Maman agree. So it will be well if I can like it, as Maman will be away for two more years yet; for when this tour is finished the company go to visit the great cities of America, both North and South, and that will mean that they will be away for all that time.” Solange heaved a deep sigh. Her mother was a prima donna, and now that her only child was of school age, she must not tour with her parents any longer. “I shall have sixteen years of age before I see them again, I fear,” she added.

“Rotten for you,” Audrey said. “But won’t they come back to France before they go to America?”

“But no. They finish in Sydney and then they go straight to America. And I told Mme Maclaren about how we tried to light our Camp Fire on their cricket pitch and she laughed and laughed. She says it would be Miss Dene who found us, and she was also at school with Mme Maclaren and Mme Maynard——”

“Who’s that taking my name in vain?” demanded a golden voice.

The five turned, startled. There was Joey, the triplets, and another girl behind them, all five grinning pleasantly at the Pension Caramie five. There was a blank silence. Joey herself broke it.

“Solange de Chaumontel, I believe,” she said, smiling at Solange, who was pink with embarassment. “And this must be Valerie Gardiner. Then you other three are the Everetts. Glad to know you all. You know my eldest girl, Len, I think. These others are Con, Margot and Ruey. Were you thinking of going on to the Auberge? Because if so, let’s join forces. We know the way and also its secret. Come along with us and—you’ll hear what you’ll hear. Or have you been before?”

“No. I—we haven’t heard of the Auberge,” Audrey stammered. “I didn’t like to go much further. I didn’t know what the path might be like. And Win gets tired if we go too far.”

“I doesn’t!” Win herself said hotly. “I can walk two—free miles at a time, so there, Audrey Everett!”

“It isn’t nearly so far as that. If you do find it tiring, you can go piggyback with me,” Joey said with a broad smile. “Oh, if you folk don’t know the Auberge, you must certainly come with us. The path’s safe enough if you don’t get up to any capers, Audrey—isn’t it?”

Audrey nodded. “These are Celia and Val,” she said indicating the pair.

Joey grinned at them cheerfully. “Good! Well now, you won’t want to cart those baskets all the way. Shove them under the bushes. They’ll be safe enough. That’s right! Now come along. Val, you go with Len. Celia, you pair off with Con. Solange, Margot can speak French quite as well as English if you prefer it. Ruey will look after Win for the moment. Audrey, partner me, won’t you? All settled? Excellent! Off we go! En avant, mes amies!”

Joey was as jolly and friendly as she could be, but there was no gainsaying her. Wisely, Audrey did not try and what Audrey did, the others did as a matter of course. They paired off as they had been told, Audrey falling in meekly at Mrs Maynard’s side behind Ruey and Win. Presently, the girl found herself chattering as gaily as the rest were doing—all but Win.

Win—and oh, how bitterly Audrey was going to regret all this later!—was a very tenacious little person. She adored Audrey, who was almost always good to her. She had fiercely resented Miss Dene’s treatment of them on Audrey’s behalf. She had adopted her eldest sister’s early attitude to the school and all its belongings and, no matter how pleasant these people might be to them just now, Win at least was not prepared to call a truce. She stalked along beside Ruey, her small nose in the air, and scarcely replied to the elder girl’s rather shy attempts at talk.

It made matters no easier that Ruey was still rather unaccustomed to small children and found it hard to think of anything to say. She had had little difficulty with the elder Maynard twins and tiny Cecil after the first day or two. Those three were chatterboxes of the first order. By the time Ruey had been three days with the Maynards, she had recovered from her very real shyness with small fry. Win was quite a different story.

The quintette found that the path to the Auberge was delightful. At first and for a short distance, they passed between rocky walls. Then the left-hand wall ended sharply and they found themselves gazing across the valley below to the northern mountain peaks. Thanks to the heat, it was hazy, but even so, they had a magnificent view.

“Oh, how simply gorgeous!” Val cried, stopping dead.

“It’s better when it’s a clear day,” Len replied, stopping with her. “Then you can see for miles and miles. But the heat makes everything misty today. You ought to come along here in the autumn when it’s cool and there isn’t a mist—on a fine day, I mean, of course. Everything looks so clean-cut then. No; don’t go nearer the edge, Val. It isn’t always safe. You might look down and turn dizzy. That’s been known to happen before now.” She thrust her hand through Val’s arm and kept her firmly from the edge.

Val submitted without fuss for a wonder. She really was thrilled by the view. She looked along and saw that the valley far below was narrowing and the mountain slopes closing in so that the distant view was hidden.

“Oh, what a pity!” she said with a deep sigh. “I could look at those mountains for ever! Does it widen out again further on?”

“It does, of course, but much further on than the Auberge,” Len said. “Never mind. You’ll be jolly pleased about it presently.”

“Shall I?” Val peered up into Len’s face with its broad grin and dancing eyes. “Why? Oh, is it something to do with the secret of the Auberge?—I say! Wouldn’t that make a smashing title for a story!”

Len laughed. “It would, rather. I must suggest it to Mamma. I wonder she’s never thought of it herself; but she hasn’t.” She raised her voice to call back, “Hi, Mamma! Val’s had a gaudy idea for a new title for you.”

“Oh? What is it?” Joey broke off her talk to Audrey to call back.

“The Secret of the Auberge. How’s that for a thriller?”

“Extraordinarily neat! I must see what I can do about it.” Joey laughed and turned to Audrey. “You wouldn’t believe how hard it sometimes is to get the right title for a book, Audrey. More than once I’ve gone on writing the whole thing, and at the end I still can’t think what to call it.”

Audrey looked at her, suddenly putting two and two together. “I say!” she exclaimed eagerly. “You aren’t Josephine M. Bettany, are you?”

“Me,” Joey said laconically.

“Oh, no!” Her voice was so full of awe that Joey nearly exploded. “Not really? Why, I’ve read dozens of your books. You wrote Cecily Holds the Fort?”

“I did. Cecily was my first effort. What a thrill it was when I had the letter of acceptance from the publishers! The biggest I’d had up till then.”

“I should think so—your first book!”

“Oh, I’d had sundry shots before then—including an Elsie book in my extreme youth,” Joey said lightly. “I always meant to write, you know.”

“What on earth is an Elsie book?” Audrey asked, wide-eyed.

Joey whistled. “Never heard of the Elsie books? My dear girl! Your education’s been neglected! I must lend you some—there are twenty-eight of them. ‘Elsie Dinsmore’ was the most perfect book-girl that ever lived! In fact, I’ve always thought she ought to have been bottled in spirits of wine and sent to the nearest museum! All the same, Martha Finley could tell a story. If you can cope with the prim English, you might enjoy them—the early ones anyhow. In the later ones,” she added solemnly, “she developed a mission. She set out to teach the American young their history, and the later books are full of chunks lifted from American historians—much too much for my liking. But the early ones are quite fun and they give you a very good picture of how people lived during the middle of the past century, in her part of the United States, anyhow. They’re painfully preachy, of course. Practically every writer for children was in those days. But you can always skip the texts. Anyhow, I don’t approve of chunks of the Bible being lifted out of their context. Far better read the Bible as it is and have a chance of enjoying it.”

Audrey was flummoxed. She had never bothered much with the Bible, apart from Scripture lessons at school. She had certainly never thought of reading it for pleasure, of all things.

Joey guessed this. “Oh, you ought to read the Bible,” she said. “It’s a gorgeous book, full of fine stories and great poetry, quite apart from being a tremendous help on occasion. You have a go at it some time.” She went back to her books. “I wrote my Elsie book when I was stuck in bed for a few days and was bored stiff with everything. It was called Elsie’s Boys—she had a biggish family when she grew up and married—eight, altogether. Four of them were boys. I was about thirteen at the time and I made them do some wildly impossible things,” she added with a chuckle. “I’ve still got it somewhere—or as much as I got written. It petered out after the first ten chapters or so. At that age I never did stick to things long enough to finish them.”

“Oh, were you like that?” Audrey cried. “I love beginning things, but then I get bored and can’t be bothered to go on.”

“Me all over. But as I grew older and got more sense, I came to it. So will you, if you’ve anything in you.” Then she changed the subject, but Audrey stowed away her remarks for future consideration.

The walk was not very far—only about a mile and a half. Even Win managed it comfortably. Then they reached the Auberge and the Caramie quintette looked round alertly to see if they could find out the secret.

They saw a long, low building with frescoed walls, tucked snugly under the slope of the mountain. The steeply pitched roof was weighted down by great ropes and enormous rocks. In front of it, where the shelf broadened out considerably, lay a courtyard fenced round on three sides with sturdy wooden rails. They had come to a gate in one side and there was another on the opposite fence. Trestle tables with forms on either side stood across the courtyard. At one of them were two young men, each with a beer-mug before him. And that was all. Joey and the others chuckled as they watched the faces of the newcomers.

“Doesn’t look much, does it?” Joey said briskly. “But you wait!”

She took Win’s hand and led her to the outer fence. The next moment they were all gasping, for she opened her mouth and sang with round, golden notes the opening phrase of Handel’s ‘Ombra mai fui’. There she stopped, even as Solange was exclaiming at the beauty of her voice. Instantly echoes came back, repeating the phrase over and over again in a series of fairy notes which gradually grew softer and softer until they faded away into silence.

“Oh!” Solange exclaimed. “But how beautiful that is.”

Len took her turn. Pursing her lips, she whistled a cadenza, ending with a long trill. Back it came, muted and sweet, to the delight of the others. Ruey followed it up with what was meant for a yodel though it would have puzzled most Swiss. The echoes flung it back, sweet and clear.

“Ooh!” Win squeaked. “What a lovely, lovely noise!” Then she gave another squeak of sheer delight, for the echoes had caught up the end words and were repeating them over and over again, ever more and more faintly until they died away in silence.

“It’s an echo!” Val cried delightedly. “That’s the secret. It’s an echo. And oh, what a marvellous one!”

There was no need to say anything more. Instantly, everyone of the five was trying the echoes. But a further thrill came for them. One of the young men rose from the table, came over to Joey and said something to her in German. She laughed and nodded and quickly hushed the excited girls.

“Quiet, you folk! Wait, Val and Celia! Listen to this.”

The man had taken from his pocket a set of panpipes. He piped a long phrase with many turns and ornaments. He ended and the echoes took up the shrill, sweet notes, making them sound like music from another world. As the girls listened, he blew on the pipes again and fresh pleasure came to them. Finally, he bowed to the entranced party and Joey with a smiling, “Grüss Gott! Auf wiedersehen, meine liebe Dame—und Mädchen!” Then he returned to his table and his beer-mug.

“Oh!” Solange cried. “But, Madame, that was as the music of Paradise!”

In her excitement, she spoke in French. Joey broke into a peal of laughter, and instantly there came to them a chorus of pixie laughter. Margot put the finishing touch to it. She raced off to the Auberge and returned carrying a big cowbell. Standing close to the fence, she rang it with all her might and fairy wedding-bells came pealing back across the depths below.

“Oh, what makes it?” Win cried. “I want to see.” And before anyone could stop her she had begun to clamber up the fence. Len was on her in an instant.

“Oh, no you don’t!” she exclaimed, lifting the indignant Win down and setting her firmly beyond the nearest table. “Never try to do that, Win. I know they keep a close watch on the fencing, but you can never tell. Something might give or a rail break and then you’d be chucked right down into the valley. You aren’t a bird or a fairy, you know, and you haven’t any wings to fly with.”

Win was furious. She scowled blackly, but the authority in Len’s voice quelled her for a moment. It did not make her love the Chalet School crowd any better, though.

Joey, who had followed Margot to the Auberge when that young lady went to return the bell, now came back, bearing a tray laden with glasses of lemonade, and missed this episode. Margot brought a basket piled high with fancy bread twists and Joey, setting her burden down on a table, called the girls to come and sit down.

“I expect you can all do with a drink,” she said cheerfully. “I know I can. Sorry we can’t get any patisseries here, but those bread twists are extremely good, I can assure you. Sit down, everyone, and sample them.”

Even Win was not minded to refuse such a good offer. The walk and the excitement of the echoes had made them hungry and they enjoyed the dainty meal she had provided for them. They had the yard to themselves, for the two young men had departed, going through the gate on the far side.

“Where does that go to?” Celia asked Con, nodding towards it.

“Oh, on round the mountain,” Con said. “There’s a very jolly waterfall not much farther on—at least it’s jolly in spring and autumn. At the moment, I imagine it’s just about dried up. Listen a moment and see if we can hear it. Pipe down a sec, everyone.”

Everyone stopped chattering and they listened hard. Very faintly they could hear a drip—drip—drip. There was still water there but, as Joey remarked, it was only the barest trickle at present.

“What happens if it’s really flowing and you want to get to the other side?” Audrey asked curiously. “Is there a bridge?”

“No—stepping-stones,” Margot returned. “When it’s in flood, you can’t get across at all, of course. The water comes down at a terrific lick.”

“But supposing you wanted to go. What would you do then?” Audrey insisted.

“Go all the way round to the Platz and climb round by the mountain.” Joey butted in. “Finish, you people, and then we must be returning. We’ve been here quite a while and I have two babies to see to, you know.”

They finished and presently she had them all walking back along the path. This time, she sent Audrey on with Con and took charge of Win herself. That small person’s sulky face had not escaped her quick eyes and she wanted no exhibitions of temper here. The path was safe enough, but there was no saying what a flibberti-gibbet like Win might take it into her head to do. Clasping the little brown fist firmly, Joey sent the rest ahead and devoted herself to telling Win a story that had never failed with her own family. Win said nothing. She stumped along beside Mrs Maynard, her baby brows drawn together in a portentous scowl, the corners of her lips drooping severely. Joey, glancing at her, decided that she was tired and stopped.

“What about a piggyback?” she said invitingly. “Come along!” She stooped down. “Clamber up and I’ll be your pony.”

“I aren’t a baby,” said a very cross voice.

“No; but it’ll be quicker and I really do want to get home to my babies who are real babies and will be needing me shortly. Up you go!” There was something in her voice, more in her glance, that made naughty Win understand that she meant to be obeyed.

Joey was not the proud mamma of eleven for nothing! She knew that Win was sulking over something, though what, she had no idea. However, she had dealt with sulks before this. Win might scowl all she pleased; she was going to do as she was told. Win felt this. She hated giving in, but had to. She scrambled on to Joey’s back, putting her arms round that lady’s neck, and Joey trotted gaily along with her. As she went, she chatted pleasantly, ignoring the little lady’s temper. By the time they had caught up with the rest, Miss Win was beginning to come round a little. After all, it was nice to be asked to go and play in the garden at Freudesheim with little Cecil and the twin babies, and perhaps she would go. But she would always hate that horrid Len, bossing her and hauling her about like that! And of course she would hate the school, and especially that nasty woman who had said such horrid things to them that first time. Anyway, Audrey hated them both—she’d said so.

They reached the bushes where the baskets had been hidden and Joey dropped her rider with a laughing, “There you are! Wasn’t I quite a nice pony?”

“Ye-es,” Win said. She caught Audrey’s eye and added reluctantly, “Thank you for the ride,” with great dignity.

“Well, we folk must get back,” Joey said gaily. “Glad we could show you one of our pet places, though. Only, Audrey, I wouldn’t go along there by yourselves, if I were you. If anyone started fooling about you might have quite a nasty accident.”

Audrey had been thinking that herself. “We certainly aren’t going there by ourselves,” she said quickly, disappointing both Celia and Val by her decision. They had fully intended coaxing her to take them another time and enjoying themselves with the echoes as long as they liked.

Win, left alone for a moment, had spied some green berries and run to pick them. Len stopped her.

“Don’t touch those, Win,” she said quickly. “They’re poisonous. They’d give you awful tummy-ache. Look, Audrey! Watch her with these. They really could be dangerous—especially later on when they’re ripe.”

“Oh, thanks,” Audrey said awkwardly. She was in a quandary. Part of her said that she wanted to be friends with these girls. The other part kept reminding her about that first scene and how unpleasantly Miss Dene had spoken to them. A few questions had brought the lady’s name easily enough from Con.

Joey rounded up her flock. “Come on, you folk! Time’s getting on and we’ve plenty of chores awaiting us at home.” She turned back to the Caramie quintette. “We’ll see you again some time or other, I expect. Goodbye, folks!”

“Goodbye!” they chorused—all but Win. Joey nodded and with the Freudesheim party waving gaily, they parted, the Maynards and Ruey talking about their work over the two rooms for Mrs Carey, the Pension Caramie group to make a second meal on what was left in their baskets before Audrey and Solange decided that it was time to think about going back if they didn’t want to be late for Win’s bedtime.

“Well, here we are again and it’s going to mean slogging like steam from now till July!” Thus Len, as she marched into Va’s form-room and made for her desk. “Had a good time, everyone?”

“Gaudy,” Ted Grantley told her promptly. “I’d no idea Zurich was such a glorious city. I shouldn’t mind spending a few weeks there any time.”

“But you knew it was the biggest city in Switzerland,” Jo Scott said.

“Yes; and that’s just why I didn’t expect a lot,” Ted said frankly.

“What do you mean?” Con demanded. The day being Wednesday, English was the spoken language.

“Well, have you ever seen a big English city—Birmingham, for instance; or London; or Leeds or—or—well, Manchester?”

“Of course we have. What’s that got to do with it?” Len exclaimed.

“Just this, my love! Every last one of them is dirty! Even on the finest day, you get dust and soot. But Zurich! It’s as clean and gay as if there wasn’t a factory within a hundred miles of it. If you come to that, even the factories don’t look like factories.”

Laurens Istar, who came from Wadenswyl, a small town halfway down the lake, laughed. “But why should it be dirty because there are factories? We do not use coal, but electricity which is—made? No?—Ah, I have him! Generated. That is it! The electricity is generated by the power of water. There is no reason for dirt and soot. And since that is so, we also have no need to build factories with great chimneys which look ugly and spoil die Augenblick——”

“You mean the view,” Jo corrected her. “Do remember that this is English day.”

“So! I thank you!” Laurens flashed a gay look at Jo. “And so you see, Ted, why Zurich is, as you call him, clean and gay, nicht wahr?”

“I’d forgotten all that,” Ted owned. “Anyhow, it is a gorgeous city, Laurens, and your lake is simply miraculous! We were out on it every day, sometimes rowing, sometimes sailing. We had a nifty time of it!”

“You sound like it,” Len agreed. “Sorry we four couldn’t come.”

“What did you folk do?” Betty Landon asked curiously. “And why didn’t you come back till this morning? We nearly had a fit when you weren’t here to welcome us. Carmela was sure you’d all picked up some germ or other and were in quarantine. What was the reason?”

“Curiosity killed the cat!” Len returned with a grin. “O.K., Betty pet! No need to get your dander up! I don’t mind telling you in the least.” She looked across at Con and the pair began to giggle.

“What’s the joke?” half-a-dozen voices demanded.

“Young Cecil!” Len replied. “You were very nearly right, Carmela. It wasn’t really a joke, either, at the time. We four felt mad with her. It turned out all right in the end, but we were awfully afraid it wouldn’t.”

“What was it?” Betty asked, her eyes as round as saucers. She was famed for being the most inquisitive girl who had ever been at the school, and she felt that she couldn’t live through the first half of the morning unless she knew, and Len was being maddeningly casual.

“Yesterday evening, when Mamma was putting her to bed, she found that she had a rash,” Con explained succinctly.

“And the awful part of it was that we couldn’t get hold of a single doctor just then to come and vet it,” Len added. “Papa was away; Dr Peters had gone to Basle to collect a patient from Holland; Dr Morris was somewhere up in the mountains, answering an urgent call. Herr Doktor Courvoisier was holding the fort at the San, so he couldn’t come away either. Mamma was nearly frantic, for Cecil was running a temp—only a slight one, though. Later, she was sick. And she had tummy-ache as a finishing touch. We knew it wasn’t measles, for she hadn’t any cold. Her throat wasn’t sore, so it wasn’t scarlet or mumps. All we could do was to hold the fort until we could get hold of a doctor to tell us what to expect.”

“What did you do?” Alicia Leonard, Betty’s bosom friend, asked in awe-stricken tones. She was an only child and knew very little about small children.

“What could we do? Mamma said we weren’t coming back to school until she knew exactly what it was. You know,” Len added in parenthesis, “even though it’s years and years since Mamma was at school, she still funks having a row with Matey and she knew what would happen if she let us come back and Cecil was going down with something infectious.”

“I don’t blame her!” Jo Scott observed. “Matey’s a poppet, but on occasion she’s a terror to snakes and there’s no blinking that fact!”

“Well, there it was. Cecil was put to bed in Papa’s dressing-room. Mamma gave her a cooling dose and sat with her. Doktor Courvoisier landed along about ten o’clock, when Dr Morris got back. He looked at Cecil and said he couldn’t say definitely, though he thought it was probably only fruit-rash. He said we’d better pack our cases first thing so that if it was that, we could get here in time for Prayers. Then we went to bed. Papa got back by the first train up and Mamma flew at him to come and look at Cecil immediately. He had a look at her and said it definitely was just fruit-rash. It was fading even then and she hadn’t a temp to her name, either. So we had Frühstück and came along.”

Everyone laughed and then they heard brisk footsteps coming along the corridor, so they sat up straight and when Miss Wilmot, their form mistress, entered, she was greeted by the usual demure set of damsels.

“Good morning, girls!” she said crisply. “Hello, Len and Con! Why didn’t you come back last night with all the rest, I should like to know?”

Len explained and Miss Wilmot chuckled. “The fruits of having babies in the family! Ah well, better late than never! Now quiet, all of you. I’m going to take register.”

She called their names over rapidly, signed the register, and sent Heather off with it to Miss Dene in the office. There was no time for more, for the bell for Prayers was ringing as Heather returned. They formed into their two lines and filed out, Catholics to the gymnasium where Mdlle de Lachennais was responsible for their devotions, and Protestants to Hall where Miss Annersley took Prayers. Work followed and Va, at any rate, had neither time nor thought for anything but English essay and algebra. G.C.E. was only just round the corner and the form had been entered en bloc for various groups. Everyone pitched in for all she was worth and no one thought of anything but the subject in hand until half past ten freed them for elevenses and Break.

The day had begun with a heavy mist, but by this time it had cleared off and the girls, having drunk their lemonade or milk, went out into the grounds with their biscuits and sauntered about, chattering hard.

“What did you folk do with yourselves?” Francie Wilford asked. She and half-a-dozen more from Vb were also entered for G.C.E. and had had no more time than their seniors for idle chatter until now. Francie and Margot and Ruey were by way of forming a trio in the form and they came up together to join the group of which Len and Con formed part.

Len’s eyes danced as she said solemnly. “We colour-washed two rooms and furnished them.”

“What?” The exclamation came from nearly everyone near enough to hear.

“Didn’t you have any expedition of your own?” Rosamund Lilley asked.

“Only picnics in the afternoons. In the mornings, we worked—and worked jolly hard, let me tell you!”

“But why?” Ted asked, staring with all her eyes.

Con explained in her placid way. “Mary-Lou’s mother, our Auntie Doris, is coming out to spend the whole summer with us. Mamma wants her to have a sitting-room as well as a bedroom. You can’t call our house exactly peaceful all the time and she says Auntie Doris will want to feel she can get away by herself sometimes. So she’s given her two rooms at the east end of our landing that communicate. Only we didn’t want them before, so we had to do them up ourselves.”

“They do look pretty!” Ruey added enthusiastically. “It was tremendous fun doing the colour-washing, too.”

“And then, when the walls were dry, we turned out all the stuff we have stored at the top of the house and furnished them,” Len chipped in. “That was fun, too, for we came across piles of things we’d forgotten we ever owned. But the rooms are ready, to the last flowering plant in the sitting-room.”

“Just as well, too.” Margot took her share. “They’re coming on Friday. Mary-Lou went home for half-term and stayed to help them pack up. They were letting the house for the summer, so there was quite a lot to see to.”

“I remember Mrs Carey when she and Mr Carey were living up at the Rösleinalp,” Rosamund said seriously. “I thought she was sweet, but she seemed very delicate—and not in the least like the mother I’d have expected Mary-Lou to have,” she added.

“Is Verity coming too?” Jo Scott queried.

“Of course she is! This, my good girl, is term-time, in case you hadn’t noticed,” Len retorted. “Auntie Doris will live at home and Mary-Lou and Verity will go back to St Mildred’s—for the rest of the term, anyhow. I don’t know what’s happening after that.”

Ruey decided to change the subject. “Who do you think joined us on Friday afternoon when we walked to the Auberge?” she asked.

“No idea,” Francie replied. “Who was it?”

“The crowd from the Pension Caramie. They were having a picnic at this end of the path when we got there and Mother made them join us,” Margot said.

“Did they say anything about the pepper business?” Ted demanded.

“Not a word. Surely you didn’t expect it? But I’ll tell you one thing,” Len said. “I don’t believe that eldest girl, Audrey Everett, had a thing to do with it.”

“What makes you say that?” Ricki Fry inquired.

“I’m certain she’d think it a fearfully babyish thing to do,” Len explained. “If you ask me, it was those two they call Celia and Val. Born imps, the pair of them! And that young Win isn’t far behind them, either. It’s just the sort of thing kids of that age would think was funny. Audrey’s around our age and she ought to have a little more sense. And it wasn’t the French girl, Solange, for she was visiting relations at Montreux. Oh, and that reminds me! Who do you think Solange met at Montreux and palled up with?”

“No idea—who?” Betty Landon demanded eagerly.

“Maria Marani—I mean Maclaren. Solange is all over her—says she’s so awfully jolly.”

“Awfully jolly—Maria?” Betty gasped, staring. “That’s a change, then. Is it the effect of being married? I never remember her that she didn’t look—sad, sort of.”

“I know. Mamma says that came when her father, Onkel Florian, was murdered by the Nazis. Before that, she says, Maria was full of fun and an awful monkey. As soon as Auntie Doris has settled in, Mamma’s going down to Montreux, even if it’s only for a day, to see Maria and make sure that Solange isn’t exaggerating.”

“The bell!” Ricki exclaimed, as it pealed out. “Come on, folks!” And she led the way in a wild race back to the school.

That afternoon Va and Vb had art, and it seemed good to Miss Yolland, the art mistress, to take them out sketching. She warned them beforehand, and as soon as the rest period was over they fled to get their hats and knapsacks, into which were crammed sketching-blocks, pencils and rubbers, paint-boxes, and jam-jars to hold the water two of them carried between them in a big can. Every girl had a small folding-stool under one arm, and the mistress led them off up into the pinewoods behind the school.

“We’ll go as far as the stream,” she said. “Thanks to the rain yesterday, there should be quite a good flow in it. I’d like to see what you girls can do with running water.”

“Then why do we have to carry water?” Heather Clayton asked.

“Just in case there isn’t. I haven’t been up, so I don’t know. Now come along—and stop swinging that can like that, Heather and Priscilla. You’ll have half the water over yourselves and the ground if you go on.”

They reached the chosen spot. She settled them on their stools by the banks of the little stream which had enough water in for her purpose. Water-colour sketching with her meant what it said. They might put in a few pencil strokes to guide them if they must, but as far as possible, it had to be done with the brush. Most of them enjoyed this sort of lesson and they had one big advantage with Miss Yolland. She was a sweet-tempered creature, endowed with plenty of patience. Their late art master, Herr Laubach, had owned a hair-trigger temper, allied to a habit of storming at people who did not grasp his meaning at once, and his gift for sarcasm had earned for him the fear of a good many of them. Under Miss Yolland, herself an Old Girl of the school, all that had ended and lessons were a pleasure instead of being a penance. Not that she allowed them to waste time or argue. Rosalind Yolland had been a capable prefect in her time and she was quite able to cope with even the naughtiest Middle firmly. But, as Margot Maynard had remarked at the beginning of term, she did give you credit when you did your best and she did explain so that you could understand exactly what it was she wanted from you.

Having set them all going and made sure that they knew what they had to do, she produced her own sketch-block and began a quick study of the scene on her own account. While she worked, she chatted easily with them on almost every subject except the approaching exams. When Mary Allan from Vb asked her what she thought they were likely to get as a subject for design, she merely replied that she hadn’t set the papers and knew no more about it than they did. They must leave it to be a nice surprise for them at the exam! Then she firmly changed the topic while Mary’s nearest neighbour hissed at her, “You awful goop! Let the ghastly thing alone for one afternoon, can’t you?”

“It’s all very well for you—you’re not taking even one group!” Mary retorted. “I’ve got three—one of them art. I did hope to get some sort of clue from Yollie.”

Prudence was silenced, for Mary had pointed her opening remark with a look at Prudence’s twin sister, Priscilla, who was taking the exam. Prudence had heard quite enough about her own laziness and bad work and she was not minded to give anyone an excuse for talking further about it. She bent her head over her work and, for once in her life, really tried.

It was very pleasant sitting among the trees, working, with the tinkle of the falling water making an accompaniment to their low-voiced chatter. Miss Yolland left her own work at intervals to go the rounds among them and explain difficulties. She warned Joan Baker, who was not artistic, against using her brush too wet; forbade the streaks of Chinese white with which Odette Mercier proposed to produce the effect of tiny waterbreaks here and there; showed Tina Harms how to get the approximate colour of the stone round which the water bubbled merrily, at the same time warning her that no stones were ever one flat colour; in fact, was a real help to the girls, and all with a gay cheerfulness which they found most encouraging.

By the time she looked at her watch and exclaimed that they must finish as far as they could in the next ten minutes or they would be late for Kaffee und Kuchen, most of them had some sort of attempt to show that was quite pleasant. Len Maynard, who had loathed her art lessons previously, had discovered that she could manage something after all, and she was far from being the only one.

“I wish, we could have another half-hour!” she sighed as the mistress looked at her work. “Couldn’t we possibly be late for once, Miss Yolland?”

“Sorry, but I’m afraid we couldn’t,” Miss Yolland said firmly. “Don’t waste time chattering, Len. Get on and do what you can. This is a great advance on your last effort, though,” she added.

“Someone’s calling!” Rosamund said suddenly. “Listen!”

Everyone stopped work. At once they heard voices coming faintly from among the trees. At first they couldn’t make out the call. Then it came nearer and nearer. Sharp-eared Len caught it and sprang to her feet, overturning paint-box and paint-water as she did so.

“That’s the Caramie crowd!” she cried. “They’re calling for Win! Oh, my goodness! Have they lost her?”

“Nonsense!” Miss Yolland exclaimed. “And look what you’ve done, Len! Half the pans are out of your box. Pick them up, quickly, and put them back or——”

She got no further. At that point, Audrey and Solange hurtled in among them, nearly sending Prudence and her folding-stool flying, so little care did they take. Both looked terrified and Audrey’s face was white under its tan as she plunged up to Miss Yolland, who caught her arm and steadied her.

“Oh!” she cried. “We’ve lost Win and we can’t find her! Have you seen her anywhere? Oh, Win—Win!”

To her everlasting shame, she collapsed in Miss Yolland’s arms and wept copiously.

As it happened, the Caramie quintette had also made for the pinewoods as soon as their midday meal was over. Their elders were all well occupied that afternoon. Mr Everett was still making headway, and Mrs Everett had been promised an hour’s visit with him. Peter Gardiner had been promoted to a bed on the wide balcony outside his ward and Mrs Gardiner was to stay with him and have tea with him. Mdlle de Chaumontel was still in one of those treacherous lulls which make T.B. such a heartbreaking illness for those who have to watch it. In fact she had even seemed stronger the past day or two and her twin, though she tried to crush it down, felt a tiny rootlet of hope springing up again. The doctors had none.

“Only a miracle from God can cure her now,” Dr Maynard had told Mme Charlot when she had begged him the night before to say if this might not be the beginning of better things. “I dare not tell you that, humanly speaking, there is the faintest chance of recovery. All we can do is to hope and pray.”

It was plain speaking, but Jack Maynard knew that, short of a miracle, Mdlle de Chaumontel was doomed, and to give her sister hope otherwise would be as cruel a thing as he could do. Solange, of course, only knew that her aunt was better just now and was jubilant about it.

“If Tante Léonie goes ahead like this, she ought to get better,” she said to the others as they strolled up the path, leading to the pinewoods. “Do you not think so, my Audree?”

With her mother’s words in mind, Audrey flushed. “Oh, I hope so” was all she could trust herself to say. “I do hope so, Solly!”

“Papa would be so pleased if he knew,” Solange continued. “He is fond of Tante Mélanie also, bien entendu, but I know it is Tante Léonie whom he has always preferred. I will write to him and Maman tonight and tell him. Tante Mélanie may not have had time.”

What could Audrey say? She hurriedly changed the subject.

“Which way shall we go?” she asked as they reached the first of the pines.

“Oh, but to the stream!” Solange cried. “I like to see the water racing down the hillside, golden as amber and singing a little song to itself.”

“And you can find flowers there, and there aren’t any in most of these woods,” Val added. “Yes; let’s go to the right.”

“I believe flowers don’t grow much where you get pines and firs,” Audrey returned, “but it’s a jolly decent walk—except for the flies. They are the outside edge!”

“Oh, we can wave them away with our hankies,” Celia said airily. “And anyhow you always get heaps of butterflies there as well. Come on, Audrey!”

They turned up the path which led to the upper one that ran along midway through the woods. Val and Celia kept making brief excursions among the trees in search of butterflies. Win kept close to Audrey and Solange, who strolled along the footpath, waving their handkerchiefs at intervals to drive away the flies that buzzed round them in clouds. Audrey felt almost panic-stricken as she realised that she was practically alone with Solange. She hoped that her friend would keep off the subject of Mdlle de Chaumontel’s illness. It would be very difficult to tell her nothing if she did not.

Luckily for her, the volatile Solange was moved to begin on a full description of her trip to Montreux. She expatiated on the masses of wild flowers to be found all round and sang the praises of the lake loudly. Then she went on to talk of ‘Mme Maclaren’, who had evidently charmed her. Solange’s cousins were really her father’s and all middle-aged. Mme Maclaren, much nearer her in age, had come as a relief. Enthusiastically Solange described her and her pretty flat, and the smaller one near at hand where the lady’s mother, Frau Marani, lived now, though at first she had made her home with her daughter.

Mme Maclaren was a Chalet School Old Girl and she had enchanted Solange with stories of her own schooldays. She had not only recounted some of her own mad doings. She had very handsomely given away Joey Maynard—and Joey’s school career had never lacked either mischief or adventure! Before long, the two girls were pealing with laughter over Mrs Maynard’s various mishaps—^[8]her leap into the icy waters of the Tiern See when she tried to get down from a mountain path to the lake path and misjudged her distance; ^[9]the time when she had fallen into a pit during a Guide camp and had actually told Miss Wilson, one of the mistresses, that she was an idiot!

“But of course, she was unable to see who it was,” Solange said when they had recovered from their giggles, “and she did not know the voice at first. ^[10]And then, Mme Maclaren told me that another time Mme Maynard dropped on Miss Wilson from the top of a stepladder and nearly killed her.”

“She seems to have had a regular hate at Miss Wilson,” Audrey said as well as she could for laughing. “When did that happen, Solly?”

Solange embarked on the tale as told by Maria and the pair enjoyed it.

“We know Mrs Maynard a bit,” Audrey said presently. “She took us along to the Auberge with them last Friday afternoon. It was gorgeous! No; I’m not telling you anything more, but we’ll get Mum or one of the other grown-ups to go there with us some time and then you’ll see for yourself. I think you’ll like it, Solly.” She gave her friend a mischievous look and then, to save herself from Solange’s questions, added hurriedly, “But didn’t you do anything but natter to this Mme Maclaren?”

Solange looked annoyed. Then she laughed and shrugged her shoulders. “But I understand. You do not wish to tell me anything more. C’est ça! And yes; I did many more things than ‘natter’, as you say, to Mme Maclaren. We sailed on the lake in a charming yacht and cousin Jacques took lines and bait and we fished. I caught nothing, but he did—des truites. We ate them for déjeuner and they were délicieuses! And Cousine Ginévre took me to the city of Geneva and we visited the shops. I did not buy much, for the cost is terrible and one can buy as well and for much less in Berne. But they are very good shops, my Audree. One sees there dresses and hats and coats chic as one may see in Paris!”

“Well, you can keep ’em for all of me!” Audrey retorted. “I’m not chic nor ever likely to be. Clothes are a nuisance!”

Solange’s eyes sparkled mutinously. “But no; it jumps to the eyes that you care little for clothes,” she said, not without malice, as she glanced at the disreputable jeans Audrey had seen fit to don for the afternoon walk. The best that could be said for them was that they were clean!

Audrey grinned at her. “I know what you’re thinking, but I honestly couldn’t care less. So long as I’m clean and decent that’s all that matters.”

“But you are not decent,” Solange pointed out. “Regard, then, tes pantalons! At the back they are coming apart.”

“What!” Even Audrey was horrified at this. She twisted and writhed in an insane attempt to inspect the back of her jeans.

Solange laughed. Her malice was short-lived. “But you cannot inspect your own back. And it makes no matter. I have with me needle and thread. Remain still but five little minutes and I will mend him for you.”

Win was tired of this. She had enjoyed the stories of various pranks, but clothes bored her even more than they did Audrey. While that young person stood stockstill while Solange stitched her up with swift, even stitches, the baby looked round, saw a beautiful blue butterfly, and ran off after it. Solange finished her repairs on Audrey’s jeans, put her needle and thread away and the two went on, laughing and talking. For once, Audrey had forgotten her small sister.

Win had forgotten Audrey. She chased her blue butterfly, but finally it rose in the air and vanished. Then she saw a pair of sulphur yellows fluttering together and chased them. All the time, though she never saw it, she was getting further and further away from the path; higher and higher and more towards the south. By the time she had tired herself out, she was well away, not only from Audrey and Co, but from the schoolgirls who were hard at work on their sketches. It was only then that she suddenly woke up to the fact that she was all alone and she had no idea where she was.

Most small children would have panicked. Not Win, who was plucky and an independent young party. She stood in the little clearing where she had lost her butterflies and looked round.

“I think,” she said aloud and with great stateliness, “that I came from that way. I’d better go back. Audrey will be awfully cross.”

Turning, she did her best but, as usually happens, she went in a circle and presently found herself back in the clearing with no very distinct idea how she had done it. She tried again, this time keeping an eye on the ground and trying to go down. She knew that below the woods lay the shelf and once she was there, she would soon be at home. Unfortunately, she had got into a dip and when she found that instead of going down she was now going up, she felt frightened for the first time. She turned back, went down and found that once more, she was going up.

By this time, Audrey and Solange had wakened up to the fact that they had lost not only Celia and Val, but also Win. The elder pair didn’t worry them. They knew their way about the woods pretty well by this time. Win was quite another matter.

At first they turned and went back along the path, shouting Win’s name as they went. No small figure in blue came running, though they contacted Val and Celia who joined them in the search. Right along to the path leading down to the Platz they went, but there was no sign of the baby.

“I expect she’s gone chasing off after a butterfly,” Celia said. “I’ll tell you what. We’ll divide up. You folk go up that way and Val and I’ll go down. Don’t look so scared, Audrey. She can’t have gone far. We’ll soon find her.”

Audrey bit her underlip to steady it. “I only hope you’re right,” was all she said; but her tones frightened Celia.

“Come on! Let’s get cracking!” she said to Val, and turned and fled down among the trees, calling as she went. Val followed her and between them they made plenty of noise if Win had been anywhere near. But Win was quite a long distance away in the opposite direction. Audrey and Solange went up through the trees, but with their long legs, they covered far more ground than the child, and were actually well above her. What was more, after scrambling on as far as she could, Win had suddenly lost heart. A big boulder, relic of some winter storm, was lying at the far side of a group of trees. She knew she had not seen that before. She was lost!

Even now, she did not altogether give up. She was very tired by this time and, deep down, she was beginning to feel frightened.

“But Audrey will find me,” she thought with complete faith in her eldest sister. “Only I can’t walk any more now. My legs is aching badly. I know! I’ll go beside that rock and sit down a bit. Then, when I’m rested, I’ll try again. But I must sit down! My legs do so ache!”

She walked round the boulder and found that at one side it curved out, forming a little shelter. Win snuggled down under it. It felt safer there than right out with just trees all round. She curled up and in less than five minutes was fast asleep. It was at this point that Audrey, having hunted all round with Solange helping, decided to turn down and see if her small sister was further down. Ten minutes later, the two came out by the stream. There was no danger from it today. Even yesterday’s rain had not done more than give it a sparkling run of water and if Win had gone into it, she would have been little more than ankle-deep.

“Thank goodness!” Audrey said, speaking more to herself than Solange. “I was afraid—after all that rain——”

“Win’s safe from this, anyhow,” Solange remarked in her own tongue. “Come, my Audree. Let us go down by it and then we can run along the road for I fear we must now seek help. And yet, where can Win be?”

Help, however, proved to be nearer than the high-road. They came plunging down and found themselves surrounded by members of the Chalet School. Audrey had kept up till then, but the sight of the girls and, most of all, of the mistress, broke down her defences. She flung herself on Miss Yolland and it was quite five minutes before anyone could make out much of what she kept sobbing out.

Miss Yolland finally shook her and ordered her to stop crying at once and tell them plainly what was wrong.

“It’s her kid sister,” Margot said. “She said they’d lost Win. Buck up, Audrey! Tell us whereabouts you missed her and we’ll all hoe in and hunt for her.”

With an effort, Audrey swallowed her sobs. “It—was—back there,” she faltered. “Solly and I—we were talking—and I forgot her—and—and then—suddenly she wasn’t there!” She choked, but like Win, she was plucky and she had plenty of resolution. She forced herself to go on. “We’ve been everywhere round here—as far as she’d be likely to go. She—she’s only—little——”

“Now don’t begin again,” Miss Yolland said with brisk kindness in her tone. “One of you girls rinse out a jar and give her a drink of water. That’ll help her. Drink it, Audrey—every drop!”

Thus urged, Audrey swallowed it and found that she had gained control of her voice again. In any case, Solange was talking.

“But me, I think Win has chased des papillons,” she said. “It is my fault, for I was talking to Audrey and made her forget. Mdlle,” she looked up at Miss Yolland, “please, can you help us to find her? She—she is so very small.”

“We’ll help,” the mistress said with a nod. She turned to her own girls. “You three Maynards—and Jo Scott and Ruey Richardson—you know these woods better than anyone else. Audrey shall take you to the place where they missed Win and I think you had better go up. Keep together as much as possible and keep on calling for her.”

“We called and called and she never came,” Audrey said in wobbly tones.

“Quite likely she tired herself out, sat down somewhere, fell fast asleep and never heard you,” Rosalind said. “Go with them, Audrey, but keep with them, dear. Don’t wander off by yourself.”

Audrey nodded. Despite herself, she was beginning to feel comforted. Miss Yolland sent another half-dozen off with Solange with instructions to search the lower slopes. Then she turned to the rest.

“Three of you must go back to the school and tell them what has happened,” she said. “Betty, you and Alicia and Rosamund, go straight back, find Miss Annersley and tell her about it. You other girls, get your things together and take everything belonging to the rest. Go down by the stream and range along at the foot of the woods, calling as you go. Don’t forget to listen for any reply. If you find Win, take her straight back to school and keep her there until the rest of us come. Let me see. Miss Annersley may be out, but Matey won’t. Take the child to her. She’ll know what to do.”

“Should we let anyone know at the Pension Caramie?” Primrose Trevoase asked. But Miss Yolland shook her head.

“Not necessary. I know Mrs Everett was going to the San to visit Mr Everett and it’s unlikely she’ll have got back yet. There’s no need to frighten her about the baby at present. Most probably the girls will find Win, and her mother would have had a great deal of anxiety for nothing. We’ll wait a little before we say anything there.”

They scattered, Miss Yolland herself going up by the stream just in case Win had wandered that way. Though how her baby legs could have carried her so far was a mystery.

They searched and searched and called and called, but got no result. Win, worn out by her travels, was in a deep sleep—much too deep to be roused by any amount of calling. She was well hidden under the boulder and though Len and Co passed it and even walked round it, they saw nothing of her.

“Where can she be?” Con exclaimed at last when they had hunted all round.

Audrey suddenly looked terrified. “Do you—do you think—anyone could have—kidnapped her?” she asked in quivering tones.

“Are you millionaires?” Len asked, facing her severely.

“No—no! Of course we’re not! We’re poor!”

“Well, then, do you belong to a frightfully important family like—like—well—a duke or something?”

Audrey stared at her, wide-eyed, her panic forgotten at this odd interrogation. “Of course we don’t! What is all this in aid of?”

“To prove to you that no one on earth is likely to kidnap Win,” Len rejoined placidly. “You pull up your socks and stop imagining mad things. Win’s all right; I’m certain of that. The monkey’s hidden herself somewhere to have a nap and we haven’t managed to hit on the place. Or else she’s below the path, in which case, we’re not likely to find her.”

“Let’s go the rounds up here once more,” Ruey suggested. “We may have overlooked something. Had she a hanky, Audrey?”

“I don’t suppose so,” Audrey said more briskly. “She never has unless someone’s reminded her to get one and I certainly didn’t.”

Wearily, the girls turned and began to climb up once more. They were all tiring now, for the day was hot and they had already put in a good deal of hard work. They looked behind every tree, called loudly at short intervals, and on one occasion Margot created a minor sensation by giving a shout and tearing across a clearing toward a thornbush. She came back, looking very sheepish and flourishing a crumpled piece of blue paper.

“I don’t know how we missed this before,” she said. “I caught sight of it among the thorns and you did say she was wearing blue, Audrey. Sorry I gave a false alarm.”

Audrey looked flattened, but Len perked up. “If we missed that before, the chances are that we may have missed Win herself. Keep your eyes well peeled, everyone!”

They went on, Audrey feeling rather more cheerful, and came to the opening where the boulder stood. Audrey ran forward and hunted round it. The next moment, she uttered a wild yell.

“She’s here—she’s here! Fast asleep under this ledge thing! Oh, Win! Wake up, darling! I’m here—Audrey’s here!”

The rest were beside her.

“Better not rouse her until we get her out,” Len, the eldest of many, said thoughtfully. “If she started up, she’d give her head a nasty bang. Get your hands under her legs, Audrey. I’ll take her shoulders. Don’t lift any more than we must. We’ll have to slide her out.”

Between them they drew the still sleeping Win from her bed. She was filthy-dirty and her little blue frock was badly torn; but she was sleeping peacefully and her cheeks were rosy as usual.

“I’ll fly and tell them!” Fleet-foot Con was off on the words, shouting as she went, “She’s found—she’s found!”

Audrey and Len tried to rouse Win, but all in vain. She muttered as they sat her up, but her fair curls fell back against her sister’s arm, and she gave a curious little snore of comfort and snuggled up against the aged jeans.

“Dead asleep!” experienced Len said. “We’ll have to carry her between us. Gosh! What a mess she’s in! She’ll need a bath when you get her back.”

Miss Yolland had been coming down and had heard their joyful yells. She shot into their midst as they squatted round the sleeper and knelt down at once to inspect her.

“Only an odd scratch or two!” she said thankfully. “And, of course, she’s tired to death, poor baby.” She scrambled to her feet, stooped down and swung the child up into her arms. “I’ll carry her down and help you to put her to bed, Audrey, if none of your grown-ups are anywhere round. You come with me—and you, Len. The rest of you, hurry back to school as fast as you can. We’re most terribly late. Kaffee und Kuchen must have been over an hour ago. However, no one is likely to worry as we sent word to school. Tell whoever is in charge what I’m doing, Con, and say I’ll be back with Len as soon as possible. Off you go! Now, you two, come along!” She strode out on the word and Len and Audrey meekly followed.

“But you know,” Len said later when they were talking over the adventure in the school garden between Abendessen and bedtime, “although I’ve always liked Yollie, I never respected her so much before. She’s always been a poppet, but this afternoon, she simply took charge of the whole show and bossed us as if she had been—well, Bill, for instance.”

The rest agreed.

As for the heroine of the whole affair, she had been undressed, bathed, dried and tucked up in her little bed without, as Audrey remarked, so much as batting an eyelid. In fact, she slept until well into the next morning and woke up none the worse for her adventure. She did not feel quite so pleased about it after breakfast when her mother took her off for a serious talking-to about running off like that. She had to promise that she would never do it again. Not that she had much chance. Having forgotten her small sister once, Audrey took good care not to do it again—not, in fact, until she herself was grown-up and Win, with all the dignity of thirteen years, asked her to stop running round after her.

“There’s no need. I can quite well look after myself!” Miss Win said with a toss of the fair hair that still curled riotously over her head.

After all the kindness of Miss Yolland and the two Fifths over Win’s adventure, Audrey felt that she could hardly hold out against the school much longer. It was an awkward position for her. She hated having to eat her own words, but anything else would be ingratitude. Apart from that, it looked like being necessary for Win’s sake. The elder girl knew well enough that her small sister copied her in most things. Win had made it quite clear that she meant to “hate” the school and all its members for Audrey’s sake. She had asked her sister anxiously who had really found her and, on hearing that it was Audrey herself, though that young woman had enough decency to add that Len and the others had helped her, Win had only remarked that she was glad it was Audrey.

“ ’Cos then I needn’t bother to feel ‘thank-you’ to them,” she explained candidly. “I never could, ’cos they’ve been so horrid to you, Audrey.”

“But that’s all over and done with,” Audrey returned quickly. “And you mustn’t feel like that, Win. It’s naughty.”

Win said no more, but her lips shut firmly. She knew what she felt.

“So what I’m to do about it or how, I just haven’t a clue!” poor Audrey thought later. “And yet—they have been decent. I can’t just go on being browned off with them. Oh, what am I to do?”

It made it no easier that Solange had been completely won over to the enemy’s side by Maria Maclaren. This was evident when she and Val had a spat over the way Maria’s name was pronounced. Mrs Maclaren had written a friendly letter to Solange and Val happened to catch sight of the signature.

“Maria!” she exclaimed, pronouncing it English fashion. “Ho! What a name! Just what you’d expect from anyone who’s been at that horrid school!”

“But it is ‘Mar-ee-a’,” Solange corrected her. “It is a beautiful name. And the school can not be horrid, for Mme Maclaren is oh, si gentille!”

“Gatcha!” Val retorted vulgarly. “It’s ‘Mar-i-a’,” she emphasized the ‘I’ sound, “and always has been!”

“You are too young to understand,” Solange said loftily.

Val flew into a red-headed temper. She hated to be told that. “O.K.! Have it your own way! I couldn’t care less! But it’s Mar-i-a—Mar-i-a—Mar-i-a! You’ll never get me to call it anything else. That’s what us English call it and what’s good enough for us ought to be good enough for any foreigner!”

“Indeed, the foreigners are you English,” Solange told her. “The name is ‘Mar-ee-a’. It is from the Latin. But of course,” she added insultingly, “a small child like you will not have begun Latin yet.”

As Val had not begun Latin, this floored her and Solange walked off with banners flying and more than a little of a swagger.

This took place on the Saturday of that week. Val sulked at Solange for what was left of the time they were together that morning which, mercifully, was not long. Celia came to join her and the pair went off by themselves. Celia, as it happened, was also feeling annoyed. She had upset her breakfast coffee into the lap of a clean frock and had been well scolded by her mother for carelessness. Audrey had gone for her too. She had had to wash out frock and knickers, as Mrs Everett was otherwise engaged, and she had planned to get off early, find a nice, shady place, and enjoy the latest Camp Fire story which had arrived by yesterday’s post—a belated birthday gift. Now she had to waste time getting that stain out. To cap everything, her mother asked her to take charge of Win as she herself had a business appointment for ten o’clock and did not know how long she might be.

“Keep her in the shade,” Mrs Everett said. “And keep in the shade yourself. Why are you screwing up your eyes like that? I’ve noticed you doing it more than once lately. Are your eyes bothering you?”

“Oh, it’s only the sun. It makes them feel swimmy,” Audrey explained.

“Where are your sun-glasses? Why don’t you wear them?”

“I lost them ages ago outside somewhere.”

“Audrey! Why didn’t you tell me before? Let me look at your eyes.” Mrs Everett faced the girl to the window and looked anxiously at the brown eyes. Despite herself, Audrey blinked and screwed them up worse than before. “It’s only the light, Mum, honestly.”

“When did you have them last?”

“Oh, I don’t know—weeks ago. I’ve looked everywhere, but I can’t find them. They must have slipped out of my pocket.”

“You should have told me. I’d have bought you another pair. Now, it’ll have to wait till next week, for I can’t manage Berne today. You can’t wear mine, either. My face is much wider. You’ll have to wear your big hat when you go out. I think I’d better take you to an oculist the next time I go to Berne. Mrs Maynard will tell me where to go. You may need glasses.”

“Oh, no!” Audrey cried in dismay. “Oh, Mum, I’m sure I don’t!”

“I’m not risking your sight,” Mrs Everett said firmly. “Now don’t argue any more. I must go or I’ll be late for that appointment. Don’t forget what I’ve said about wearing your hat and looking after Win. And see that you all come back here in time to make yourselves tidy for lunch.”

She departed on the last word and Audrey was left to stare dismally after her. It was too late to do anything about it. When Mrs Everett’s foot was down, it was down. Audrey knew that that visit to the oculist was a definite date however much she might dislike it.

“Glasses!” she thought. “How simply ghastly! I shall look a freak!”

She went to seek her book and Win, feeling thoroughly disgruntled. She told her small sister sharply to bring her own picture book and put on her hat and come along. Win did as she was told. She knew better than to make a fuss when Audrey was in this sort of mood. Besides, she had had such a talking to over Wednesday’s affair, she was still feeling subdued. They went out into the glare of the sun, Audrey pulling her big hat forward until it nearly rested on her nose. Outside, they were joined by Solange, also with a book.

“Coming with us?” Audrey asked casually.

“But yes. It is too hot to do anything but read,” Solange returned amiably. Her victory had soothed her temper.

“Good! Oh, any idea where the other two are?”

“I think they have gone for a promenade,” Solange said. “I saw them go out with their hats and a bag of biscuits, so they will not return until it is time for déjeuner.”

“Oh, bother them! I meant to catch them and warn them not to be late. Oh, well, I can’t do it now. You didn’t see which way they went, did you?”

Solange had not. Audrey gave it up and after a little more talk, they decided to seek out the seats which had appeared on the Platz and spend their morning reading. It was stiflingly hot and even up here, so far above the plain, the air felt heavy for once.

They sauntered down the road, past the school playing-fields and turned up by the end fence. There was a seat near the back road which would be shady at this time of day. Also, if Win tired of her picture-book, she could run about and would be in no danger. They reached the seat and sat down. Solange had a small basket with her and, once they were settled, she lifted the muslin cover and showed strawberries.

“Ooh!” said Win ecstatically.

“Oh, Solly! How gorgeous!” Audrey added.

“Tante Mélanie gave them to me for our—how do you say?”

“Elevenses,” Audrey put in.

“Yes. That is it. Shall we have them now?”

“Rather! How marvellous of her! She is kind!” Audrey pulled out her handkerchief and saw that Win had hers. “What a lot, though!”

“She said that it was a hot day and we would find them a refreshment,” Solange explained, not considering it necessary to add that Mme Charlot had provided for the five of them. She held out the basket. “Take one, Win.”

Win took a luscious berry and bit into it. “Ooh, they are nice!” she said, beaming.

“Only six for you,” Audrey warned her. The fruit was very large and Win easily upset.

They ate their strawberries slowly. Then, after wiping their fingers on their handkerchiefs, they settled down to read, the two elder girls each in a corner of the seat and Win on the grass, which she preferred. Presently, the heat told on her. The book slipped from her hands and her head fell on Audrey’s foot. She was asleep.

It was none too comfortable for her sister. Win’s head was heavy and she was afraid of rousing the child if she withdrew her foot. Before long, she had “pins and needles” in it, but she endured. Her story helped her. It really was most exciting—Winona of the Camp Fire—the first American yarn she had ever had about the Camp Fire. And then Win wriggled further down and Audrey was able to stand up and stamp until her foot was comfortable again.

“Young Win’s no light weight,” she told Solange, who had looked up, startled.

Solange laughed. “But she is very small,” she said.

“That doesn’t make her any lighter.” Audrey sat down again and prepared to go on reading, but Solange had closed her own book.

“I have news for you, my Audree,” she said.

“News?” Audrey closed the book she had just reopened. “Something Mrs Maclaren told you in her letter, you mean?”

“But no! This is for me myself. It is very exciting. Listen! When les vacances end, I am to go to the Chalet School. Tante Mélanie told me this morning when she gave me the strawberries for us. Is not that news?”

Audrey stared at her. Then she began to laugh. “Oh, Solly! This is funny!”

Solange gaped at her. “But how—funny?” she demanded.

“Why, it is! We’re going there, too—at least, Celia and I are and so is Val. I’ve known for ages. Mum told me. I asked about you, but she said she didn’t know. I’d have told you, only she said I wasn’t to say anything yet. By the way, better say nothing to Celia and Val.”

“I can really have nothing much to say to them,” Solange announced grandly. “And for Val, she is a rude little girl and knows nothing.”

“What’s she been up to?” Audrey demanded. “She’s a cheeky brat, but you ought to know that by this time.”

Solange explained what had happened, and Audrey laughed again. “It’s as I said. She’s a cheeky brat. But you certainly squashed her about the Latin. She never has learned. I know, for Celia told me. Serve her right! After all, Mme Maclaren is not English so you wouldn’t expect her to pronounce her name the English way. And you’re right, Solly. It’s pretty that way.”

This smoothed down Solange’s ruffled feathers. She returned to the question of school “I was so delighted when Tante Mélanie told me, for I have wished to go to school—oh, for a long time now.”

“Didn’t she tell you we were going?” Audrey queried.

“But no; she said nothing about the rest of you. Oh, you cannot guess how enraptured I am, for I have often begged to go, but Tante Mélanie always said that I had an excellent governess and my parents were satisfied and so must I be. But now I am to go to school. And I shall have you with me and all goes well.”

“Ye-es. But I don’t expect we’ll be in the same form,” Audrey said slowly.

“But why not? Am I not nearly of an age with you?”

“You’re nearly a year younger,” Audrey said bluntly. “And besides, as you say, you’ve never been to school and that’s bound to make a difference.”

Solange’s face fell. “I do not see why it should. I assure you, I had to work hard—but very hard!—with Mdlle Dupleix! How can it make a difference?”

“Well, for one thing, you haven’t had to work with other girls. You’d be more or less able to go at your own pace. In school, you have to keep up with the majority.”

Solange laughed. “But indeed I did not go at my own pace as you say. Mdlle partitioned out everything to a certain time and I must finish in that time or she scolded—oh, how she scolded!”

“Oh? Well, we may be together then.” Audrey spoke thoughtfully. She knew well enough that she had never been a hard worker at school. She had always sat contentedly in the middle of the form-lists. If Solange had been made to work as much as she said, it was quite probable that they were on a level. Fond as she had grown of the French girl, Audrey did not like that. There was no help for it. She must get down to real work and do her best. Besides, now that she knew how things stood with them, it was the only thing she could do.

“I wonder how I’ll get on?” she thought. She spoke aloud, “Well, anyhow, thanks to you, I know a lot more French than I did. That’s something!”

“And I know more English. So we have benefited each other,” Solange said prettily.

Audrey went red. Pretty speeches were quite beyond her. She looked round and forgot school, work and pretty speeches. “Heavens! I believe we’re in for a thunderstorm! Look how queer the light is! Come on, Solly! We must get back at once! Hi, Win! Wake up! Wake up quickly!” She stooped and shook Win.

Solange bundled their books into her basket and then helped Audrey to pull the drowsy Win to her feet.

“You have right, my Audree!” she cried. “We must hasten back at once. When it rains here, it is terrible! Come, Win!”

Between them, they got Win to her feet. Then, each firmly grasping a hand, they set off, racing her over the grass as hard as they could go. They reached the school fencing and ran down by it, hoping they might get under cover before the rain came. Audrey kept her eyes straight ahead, but Solange glanced over her shoulder and a horrified cry broke from her as she saw the vanguard of cloud battalions swirling up from the eastern slope of the mountain.

“Don’t—waste time—looking!” Audrey jerked breathlessly. “Run!”

The next moment, they were held up in earnest, for Win tripped over a tussock of grass and went down. They had to stop long enough to get her to her feet, and at the same moment, faint and far away, came a long, menacing rumble of thunder. It came again as they set off once more, and Win began to whimper. Thunder was one of the few things she feared and this sounded so dreadful! The mountain peaks opposite caught up the sound and sent it echoing and re-echoing for whole minutes, prolonging it terrifyingly.

“We can’t make it in time!” Audrey gasped. “It’s coming up like a racehorse! We’ll have to shelter somewhere!”

They had slowed down as Win stumbled again and Solange looked round frantically for the nearest shelter. She gave a cry and flung her hand out.

“That chalet over there! We can reach it if we hurry! Come, Audree!”

“No go! It’s shut up! The people are away somewhere! Len Maynard said so!”

“But we can shelter against the wall. It will be better than nothing! Come! Run, Win!” And dragging Win after her so that Audrey had to go too, whether she liked it or not, Solange set off again for the small chalet which had caught her eye.

It really would be better than nothing and Audrey knew that they could never hope to reach even the school in time. She ran and, between them, they hauled the howling Win along. Overhead, there came the crashing of thunder, louder than ever, and great flashes of lightning. How they did it, they never knew. Just as the clouds took a final leap and blotted out what had remained of the blue sky, they reached the door of the chalet. Celia and Val came tearing up before them and they all huddled together in the deep, narrow porch as the rains were loosed and came down in a solid curtain through which it was impossible to see.

If they had been out in it, they would have been drenched in two minutes. As it was, they were damp from splashes, for the ground was rock-hard and the first downpour simply bounced off it like hailstones. Win was screaming, and Val, who hated thunder quite as much as she did, had forgotten her feud with Solange and clung to her in terror. Audrey had all she could do with the baby.

How long they stood there, none of them could have said just then. Celia had left her watch under her pillow and Audrey and Solange had their hands full with Val and Win. Finally, as suddenly as it had begun, it ended. The black clouds raced away to the west, leaving a blue sky and a shining sun. The noise of the thunder grew fainter and fainter till it vanished altogether. The soaked earth began to send up clouds of steam and it was over.

Celia looked round them. “Are—are we all still alive?” she asked solemnly.

“We are; but oh, my goodness! I hope we never have another storm like that as long as we’re here,” Audrey said, as she mopped up the tears on Win’s cheeks. “It’s all right, Baby. It’s over now. We’ll go back and you shall have a nice dinner. Mummy will be there too, I expect.”

“Unless she’s been caught in the storm,” Celia piped up. “D’you know where she was going, Audrey?”

“She never said. I expect she’s been all right, though. Come on! Goodness knows what the time is. We must be awfully late for lunch.” She looked at her watch, gasped, and then began to laugh.

“What’s the joke?” Val asked shakily.

“Well, I don’t know just when the storm began, but it’s still not quite twelve o’clock. I thought it must be at least two in the afternoon!”

The door behind them opened and a voice said, “Who’s there?” They turned in a body and saw Mrs Everett and behind her someone at sight of whom Audrey began to blush wildly—Miss Dene.

Win gave a yell of joy and flung herself on her mother, sobbing, “Mummy—Mummy! It’s been so howwid!” as she buried her head in her mother’s dress.

Miss Dene looked at them, dismay on her face. “Have you folk been here all through the storm? Oh, you poor lambs! Are you wet? Let me feel. Come along in and I’ll make you some tea. There are a few stores here and a spirit stove and at least it’ll be hot and wet. In with you, all of you. Why didn’t you try knocking?”

She hustled them into a narrow passage from which led off a big room, pleasant and bright now that the sun had come out again, even though most of the furniture was covered with dust-sheets. She whipped off two or three of these, showing them a sofa and some chairs. Then leaving them to find seats for themselves, she disappeared. Mrs Everett comforted Win, who stopped crying once she was in her mother’s arms. The others sat gazing round. Audrey wondered what in the world her mother was doing here. Before she had found any satisfactory answer to the problem, however, Miss Dene was back with cups full of steaming tea on a big tray.

“Sorry there’s no milk,” she said, laughing. “I can’t find even a tin. But there was plenty of sugar, so it’s hot and sweet. Drink it down, all of you. It’ll cheer you up after that horrid experience.”

She was quite right. By the time they had drained the cups, they did feel better. By that time, too, most of the road surface was dry, though there were plenty of puddles in the ruts. Mrs Everett said it was time they were back at the Caramie, and she and Miss Dene chased the girls out into the road.

“But why were you here?” Audrey asked inquisitively of her mother as Miss Dene turned to lock the door behind them.

“Because this is to be our home for the next year at least. It belongs to Sir Guy Rutherford, but he and the family have gone on a long sea-voyage for the sake of their eldest daughter, who has been very ill but is getting better. Miss Dene wrote to ask if we might rent it while they were away and the reply came yesterday. It’s ours as soon as we can move in. Your mother is joining us, Valerie, and so is your aunt, Solange. So you people will still be together, thanks to the kindness of Sir Guy and Miss Dene.”

“What’s that?” Miss Dene asked as she joined them. “Here are the keys, and now the place is your own, Mrs Everett. I do hope you’ll be happy here.”

Audrey was crimson again. But she knew what she had to do. As her mother took the keys and pocketed them drawing Win on to the road, she turned to Miss Dene, whom she had hated so industriously ever since their first meeting.

“I—I’m sorry,” she muttered, hanging her head.

Miss Dene looked surprised. In the pressure of her daily work she had almost forgotten that very stormy first meeting, once she had recovered from the shock the five had given her. Then she smiled.

“We’ll say no more about it. At least, there’s one thing I would like to know if you’ll tell me. Why did you want to make a camp fire? You aren’t a Guide, are you? I’ve never seen one of you wearing the badge.”

“Oh, no; I couldn’t be. You see, it was this way.” And Audrey began to explain. Solange had joined them and she added her comments. Miss Dene listened gravely until they reached the gates of the Chalet School. Here she had to part with them as she knew she was probably wanted by half a dozen different people by this time. She said goodbye to Mrs Everett and the three younger girls, but she detained Audrey and Solange for a minute.

“I understand now,” she said. “Well, I’m afraid we can’t offer you Camp Fire when you come next term. We’ve never done anything about it. But I can assure you that you’ll find plenty of things to join that I know you’ll enjoy. No; I’m saying no more now. I must fly. Goodbye you two. We shall be meeting again before long, I expect.”

She ran lightly up the drive, leaving Audrey and Solange to go on to the Pension Caramie, highly excited as to what Miss Dene had meant by her hints and even Audrey beginning to look forward to joining the school.

“There! That’s the lot! They do look nice in a great wheel, and those dollops of cellophane stuck everywhere really do give the whole place an Aladdin’s-cave look! It was a brainwave, Jessica!” And Margot Maynard stepped back to gaze admiringly at the effect of St Hild’s stall at the school’s annual Sale of Work.

This was held in the grounds each summer term and was run and organised by the girls themselves. Needless to state, an ordinary sale had no appeal for them. Each year there were frantic hunts for a fresh idea and it was growing more and more difficult as the years piled up. However, this year, some genius had proposed an ‘Arabian Nights’ sale and the idea had been acclaimed by everyone on the spot. St Hild’s House had been awarded Aladdin’s jewel cave and plain sewing, and had been at their wits’ end to know how to combine the two when the Head Girl of the House, Jessica Wayne, had suggested using coloured cellophane wherever they possibly could. They had requisitioned flats from the acting-room, every member of the house had contributed at least two sheets of cellophane and the result, as said, was quite realistic, especially with the sun gleaming on the shiny stuff. All the Juniors and Junior Middles had been dressed in cellophane tunics to add to the effect. The rest had commandeered the pantomime costumes and were disporting themselves as Chinese ladies, mandarins, coolies and the Emperor of China and the Princess Badroulbadour. These two last parts were taken by Con Maynard and Jessica herself, and Con had already reduced her friends to convulsions of laughter by appearing with long, thin moustachios dangling down on either side of her mouth with truly Chinese effect.

“I honestly think ours is the most striking of the lot,” she said now as she came from the ‘Cave’, where she had been pinning babies’ dresses to cellophane sheets before hanging them up along the back of the stall. “And it was a brain-wave to give the kids cellophane tunics. They look amazingly well.”

“All right, so long as they don’t tear them,” Jessica returned forebodingly. “You know what Jack Lambert and all her tribe are like, though.”

“They won’t do that,” Francie Wilford consoled her. “Cellophane is tough stuff. Look what a business it is to get it off chocolate boxes!”

“Well, I hope you’re right,” Jessica returned pessimistically. She heard someone calling her and went off, leaving the others to promenade round all the other stalls and come back to their own to admire once more the great wheel Francie and Margot had made of fifty pincushions of all shapes and sizes, and to agree with emphasis that theirs was the pick of the stalls.

“Though, mind you, I quite like Ali Baba’s Courtyard,” Francie added.

“So do I. Those huge jars the art class made are super,” Margot assented. “And the Island of the Old Man of the Sea is jolly good, too.”

“I’ve been looking at the books they have there,” said Len, strolling up from Ste Thérèse’s effort. “I’ve seen at least three I want.”

“They have a lovely spitting cat in pottery I’d like for Mother,” Margot said with a giggle. “The worst of it is I’m shortish. Hope she shows up early and I’ll try a touch.”

“I’m having a go at all the competitions—if I have time,” Con added prudently. “I’m sorry we haven’t a doll’s-house this year from Tom Gay. However, she’s sent every year so far and it’s four years since she left. She’s off on her job, now. I don’t suppose she’d have much time for carpentry. We’ll just have to do without this year and hope that some other joinering genius turns up next term.”

“It’s a pity,” observed Clare Kennedy, who had joined them. “We’ve always made a magnificent sum out of Tom’s house.”

“The whistle!” someone exclaimed as a shrill whistle rang out.

“What’s happened?” Margot shouted as they turned and ran to the big entrance-door. Arrived there, they stopped and stared for all they were worth. Someone had set up a long trestle-table on one of the lawns. On it stood twelve little houses, all copies of modern villas and no two alike. Each stood in a miniature garden with fencing around and, as the girls soon discovered, each opened at either side. They were unfurnished, but they were most attractive. They were not the lavish things Tom Gay, who was an Old Girl, had contributed each year since she had joined the school at thirteen, but they were quite big enough to thrill any small girl who got one.

“Tom must have spent every spare moment she had on them!” Barbara Chester cried. “How frightfully decent of her!”

Miss Wilson of St Mildred’s, who was at one end of the table, laughed. “Not so, but far otherwise. Tom hasn’t made one of these, though she sent them. I’ve a letter from her to read to you. Stop talking, everyone.”

Talking ceased quickly and everyone listened eagerly, for those who had known Tom Gay in her schooldays knew what to expect from her.

“Where are the lists, Miss Wilson?” Len asked eagerly.

“Here!” Miss Wilson—“Bill” to everyone, though strictly sub rosa, as a rule—waved a sheaf of paper at her. “Better pin them up round the table. Mary-Lou Trelawney, Vi Lucy and Hilary Bennet will be in charge of it, but if any of you people want to have a shot, you’d better have it now before our visitors arrive. Mary-Lou!”

“Here, Miss Wilson!” And Mary-Lou, looking rather startling as a Persian Vizier, shot out of the crowd.

“Got the paper and pencils? Good! Start this lot off at once, you three, and get them out of the way before the rush comes. Oh, by the way, we’re charging 2 francs per shot. You collect the money, Hilary, and Vi can go through the lists as they’re finished and that will save time later on.”

She nodded to them and then strolled away with Miss Annersley, while the girls crowded round Mary-Lou to claim paper and pencil and then stand studying the long lists of names Tom had provided. They dared not linger too long. Already people could be seen coming along the road to the gates which were due to open in less than a quarter of an hour. They finished quickly and then fled to take up their posts at their stalls.

Everyone living on the Platz who could turn up did so. As soon as the dignitary chosen had opened the Sale, the girls were besieged by would-be purchasers and had a very full and busy afternoon.

The quintette from Caramie came with their elders. Money being scarce with the Everetts and the Gardiners, the three elder girls had been given 10 francs each and told they must spin it out as far as possible. Win had 5 francs and thought herself little short of a millionairess!

Long ago, it had been decided that it was better to charge low prices and sell everything than to price things exorbitantly and be left with a good deal to store after wards. Some articles which it was impossible to set at a low rate were raffled, and frequently brought two or three times as much as they would have done if sold in the ordinary way on the stall. People were always willing to spend ten centimes on a ticket and take a chance and ticket-sellers always drove a very brisk trade.

Len had issued her orders very early in the day and the five from the Caramie presently found themselves being borne off in different directions and meeting quite a number of new people, almost as soon as their elders had sent them off. They were beside the dolls’-houses and Win was eager to try for one as soon as she knew what she had to do. But—2 francs! It was nearly half her total wealth!

“I’ll help out,” Audrey said. “Give me 50 centimes, Win, and——”

“I’ll give fifty, too,” Celia put in.

“Tell you what,” Val proposed. “We four will each give fifty and help Win to choose her names. Then if the list wins a house, she’s got it. How’s that?”

“Indeed, I should like to do that!” Solange said eagerly, giving up her first idea of paying for Win herself. She had 50 francs to spend, for each of her aunts had given her 25 francs, so she had felt she could well afford it.

“But,” she thought, as she handed over her note, “I can come back later and make another list and, if it wins, Win can have the little house.”

Mary-Lou to whom Audrey put the idea, amiably agreed to let them choose together and advised them to hurry up about it.

“People are coming to show you round,” she said. “You get plenty of each other most times. You’ll have a change of pals today. There’s a slip and pencil and for goodness sake let me have the pencil back. Off you go! There’s an empty list over there.”

They had great fun choosing the names until they came to the last one, where they stuck, each wanting something different. Vi Lucy, standing near, overheard their chatter and came to help.

“If I were you, I’d blindfold the kiddy and let her dab one with the pencil,” she suggested. “If she lands on one you’ve already chosen, she can try again.” An impish spark lit up in her pansy-blue eyes. “I shouldn’t wonder if it brought you luck.”

Win danced excitedly. “Oh, do let’s!” she implored.

The others laughed and agreed. She was blindfolded, given the pencil and, after she had wavered for a second or two, brought it down on a name they had all passed because it was, as Celia said, “So ugly!”

“ ‘Mullinagga’!” Audrey read. “Oh well, it may be right after all.” She put it down in her careful script, handed slip and pencil to Vi, and then the various hostesses who had been waiting for them arrived and bore them off, despite Val’s protests.

“Don’t be silly!” Rikki Fry told her severely. “You’re bound to meet over and over again, but you may as well begin by going different ways.”

She herself had charge of Audrey. Solange found herself with a compatriot, one Thérèse Rambeau. Celia and Val were marched off by Jack Lambert and Wanda von Eschenau. Joey Maynard appeared from nowhere, as it seemed, and took charge of Win, together with her own small Cecil and little Marjorie Graves, daughter of a former Head Girl and Games mistress, and now wife of Dr Graves at the Sanatorium. Hilary Graves was not present that afternoon, but she had sent her own four-year-old Marjorie along with strict instructions to Joey to keep a firm eye on her. Marjorie was an imp of the first water!

“And where are your Second Twins, Mrs Maynard?” Doris Hill from St Mildred’s demanded when she met the little crowd.

“Safe at home with Anna. Sales of work are not the place for babies!” Joey retorted. “All set for Chelsea, Doris?”

Doris, whose one object in life was to become a Games mistress, laughed and nodded. “I’m looking forward to it. I only hope that by the time I’m ready some nice man has hopped off with Burnie and I can come back here.”

“Well, you never can tell,” Joey laughed as she led off her trio to the Orange Tree. “Best luck, anyhow.”

Meanwhile, the others were enjoying themselves. Audrey found herself liking the girls to whom Rikki introduced her more and more. For the first time, she discovered that she was looking forward to the beginning of next term. Solange, who was already keen, thanks to Maria Marani—or Maclaren, as she now was—was even more eager for it. As for Celia and Val, after hearing all their escorts could tell them, they were sure they would enjoy life at this school, even if it did mean having to speak foreign languages four days a week!

Presently, the four elders met, and Rikki and Thérèse, having made sure that the strangers now knew quite a number of people, fled to their respective stalls to help with the selling. Solange and Audrey joined up happily and proceeded to spend their money. Audrey, with an eye to their new home, invested two francs in raffle tickets for various useful articles, including an elaborate afternoon tea-cloth, a handsome vase and a little morning tea-set. At Sindbad’s Island, where books, ornaments and ware of all kinds, leather work and various other handcrafts were sold, she secured copies of two of Joey Maynard books; a pair of vases for her mother; and a leather bookmark for Celia. Aladdin’s Cave yielded a tiny doll for Win and handkerchiefs for Val and Solange. By this time she had exactly 1 franc left and spent it in various competitions. Luckily, both raffle tickets and entries cost only 10 centimes each.

Solange bought handkerchiefs for her aunts, a smart belt for herself, and gifts for everyone else, including a pair of attractive book-ends she had seen Audrey gazing at longingly. Most of the remainder of her money went like Audrey’s on raffle tickets and competitions. She emerged beaming from the attempt to throw ping-pong balls into a bucket. Every one she had thrown had stayed in, and Connie Winter in charge of it had assured her that so far she had beaten everyone else.

They saw the others at intervals, but left them to themselves. Finally, having visited everything, they were standing near Aladdin’s Cave, wondering what to do next, when Con Maynard came tearing past. She saw them and instantly changed course.

“Come on!” she exclaimed with a giggle. “Mamma’s just thought up a new competition and she’s running it herself. She’s at the gate between here and our garden. Come on and have a go!”

Solange was all for it, but Audrey, sadly remembering her empty purse, looked away. Con saw her expression and guessed what was wrong.

“Must do something about this!” she thought. “Oh, I know!”

“We three will start Mamma off,” she said, tucking her hands through their arms. “Come along! It’s a yell! I’m standing treat as it’s Mamma. Put your purse away, Solange. This is on me!”

She rushed them along to the gate in the hedge where Joey stood, a broad grin on her face. She had parked her small charges with Miss Robertson, Head of St Nicholas’, who was running a play place for the tinies when they tired of wandering round with their elders. Now she had brought her beloved St Bernard, Bruno, and he was sitting grinning at everyone with a placard on his broad chest which announced, “Guess my weight! Only 10 centimes a guess.”

“Are we the first?” Con demanded as they rushed up. “Oh, good! We three are starting you off. Then we’re going to broadcast it to everyone. You go first, Solange.”

Joey solemnly handed Solange a slip of paper and pencil. “Don’t forget to put your name,” she said warningly. “And then, you two, stay here and take the slips and money for me, will you? There’s a bowl for the cash, Audrey. Solange, you take the slips. There’s a box of paper-clips on that table behind the hedge. Clip them together by twenties or we’ll have an awful time going through them later. Now get cracking!”

So, for that afternoon, the pair were part of the school doings. As soon as Con had registered her own guess, she dashed off again to tell other people and the three were kept busy until Joey, with an eye to the bowlful of nickel coins and paper notes, decided that they had done enough, and sent her helpers off to enjoy coffee and cakes in The Sultan’s Banqueting Hall while she let Bruno loose and then dashed to the telephone. She emerged, one broad beam, but she kept her news until the time came to announce winners of raffles and competitions.

Dr Maynard, who was acting as M.C., took his place on the little platform rigged up beside the doll’s-house table and solemnly announced name after name. Val had won a big box of chocolates which she promptly dedicated to her brother. One of the dolls’-houses fell to Dr Graves, who had put in an appearance very early in the proceedings before racing back home. Another went to Miss Dene and a third to Biddy Courvoisier. Then the wicked doctor returned to the raffles, and Audrey’s name was called out for the tea-set. Solange won a bottle of perfume for being the only person to get all her balls into the bucket and then Win’s name was called. She had won a doll’s-house! Nothing else mattered to her just then, but the other girls waited anxiously to learn the result of Joey’s sudden inspiration.

The doctor left it to the last. Joey herself had brought the two slips with Bruno’s weight and the winner’s name to him and was standing beside him on the platform with a face so full of excitement that some people wondered what was happening.

Dr Maynard was a born tease. Seeing the eager faces before him, he took his own time about opening the slips and reading them to himself. Behind him, Joey muttered “Oh hurry up, do! I’ve got NEWS!”

However, he relented at last. “Well, what do you know? No wonder it costs the earth to feed Bruno!”

“Oh, Uncle Jack, do go on!” Mary-Lou burst out. She had guessed the big dog’s weight at ten stone and was dying to know if she was anywhere near it.

“Hold your horses, Mary-Lou. Patience is a virtue. I’ll tell you in a minute.” Then he looked at the slip again and announced, “One hundred and ninety-six pounds two ounces.”

“What’s that in stones?” a frantic voice sounded.

“Work it out for yourselves,” he replied blandly.

There was silence until Miss Ferrars took pity on them and said clearly, “Fourteen stone two ounces.”

Groans rose from most people who had got nowhere near it. But Joey was jogging him again, so he went on. “As for the winner, only one person came near it. Audrey Everett! A jolly good guess, Audrey. You were only two ounces short of it. Come on up and collect.”

Crimson between delight and shyness, Audrey reached the platform and was presented with a copy of one of Joey’s latest books.

“Let me know if you have it already,” that lady said, “and I’ll change it for one you haven’t got.” She raised her voice as the crowd, now mainly consisting of the school and people connected with it, began to move after clapping Audrey heartily. “Hang on a moment, everyone! I’ve News with a capital N for you. This afternoon, the school had two more grandchildren to its credit. Mrs Graves has a son, born just an hour ago. And—how many of you Chalet folk remember Maria Marani?—well, Maria had a daughter early this morning. How’s that for a wind-up?”

Cheers rent the air, for Mrs Maclaren had spent some time at Freudesheim before her marriage, helping Joey with her small fry, so many of them knew her, even if they hadn’t been to school with her. Everyone on the Platz, of course, knew Mrs Graves.

All things considered, the school, talking it over later, agreed that it had, indeed, been a successful Sale, for they had equalled last year’s takings and there was this delightful news to top up with. As for the Caramie quintette, the elder four were quite reconciled now. Only Win still stood out. Like Audrey, she had a most unpraiseworthy tendency to hold on to a grudge. Everyone at the Chalet School had been good to her and even Audrey had got over the trouble. Not Win, however. She held on obstinately to her first opinion, and trouble was to come of it before everything was finally settled.

The whole of Va and about half of Vb were standing outside the big bottom door of Hall. In less than five minutes, the door would open and they must file in to seek their places for what the entire school thought of in capital letters as THE EXAM.

In other words, this was the first day of G.C.E. and most of them were wishing they had begged off earlier. Various members of the two Sixths were also waiting, for they were taking certain groups of subjects at Advanced level. They assumed an indifferent air, having as Len Maynard had reminded her cousin, Josette Russell, been there before. All the same, they were not really quite so cool as they tried to seem.

Privately, Josette had owned to the triplets that she was shaking in her shoes. But it had to be faced if she meant to go to the London School of Economics, so there it was.

Jessica Wayne was with them, though she had no business that morning. She was doing Advanced in maths and science. Today’s exams were French I and Geography I and she was taking neither.

“Thank goodness you won’t be feeling so cheery on Thursday!” Len said viciously. “It’ll be our turn then to gloat over you!”

“Don’t mention it,” Jessica said, still cheerfully. “Still, I’ve today and tomorrow to go before then, so I may as well make the most of it. Hello! Someone’s coming to open the door. Don’t worry, you four. You’ll simply sail through this morning’s paper. French is a gift to you all. I’m off! Good luck—or, seeing it’s French, bonne chance!” She went scuttering off down the corridor as the door opened and they all began to file in.

The four cousins gripped each other’s hands and followed the crowd. Hall looked very unlike itself with folding desks placed at wide intervals up and down its entire length. A number of people from St Mildred’s were also taking the Advanced, and there had to be desks for nearly sixty people.

On the dais stood Miss Annersley and Miss Wilson, the co-Heads. Seated at the invigilator’s table was Mrs Everett, chatting quietly with them. The school always had an outsider as invigilator, of course, and Miss Annersley, knowing of her scholastic career for more reasons than one, had begged her to undertake the job this year.

The girls knew their numbers and they quickly found their seats. Then they sat waiting, longing to know what lay before them. They had only a short wait, for almost as the last girl took her place, the two Heads left Hall and Mrs Everett, after a glance at her watch, said, “You may begin.”

There was an instant rustle as everyone opened the exam-book before her with the question-paper snugly inside, and hurried to enter her details before turning to the paper itself. Thereafter, the only sounds in the room were the moving of pens over paper, the occasional scraping of chair-legs when anyone moved a little, and the turning of pages.

Josette, glancing through the questions before settling down to it, found that Jessica had been quite right. She could manage this paper with ease. Most of the others found the same. French and nothing but French spoken and written two days throughout the term had helped them enormously. Even Joan Baker, who had made heavy weather of it during her first term or two, wrote on steadily until the warning voice told them that they had only five minutes left. People who had not finished frankly scribbled their last sentences. Others were glancing through to make sure they had done nothing outrageous.

Len had already finished. She had found it easy on the whole. She thought she might look for a pass, anyhow, if French II were no worse. Of course, she wanted credit, but that was another matter. She closed the book and looked round the room. Sitting in the row in front at some distance to her right was Margot. That young woman was clutching her curls with one hand and even at that distance, Len could see that the youngest triplet was frowning furiously as she wrote.

“I do hope Margot has managed it all right,” she thought anxiously. “She’s a bit—gappy in places, she says.”

She knew that if Margot did fail, she would get short shrift from most folk, for she was far and away the cleverest of the three. The trouble was that while Len and Con had worked steadily through their school careers, Margot had gone by fits and starts. It was only during the past year and a half that she had attempted to maintain a good level in her work, and that sort of thing is apt to let one down when it comes to public exams.

The quiet voice spoke again. “Finish your last sentence, please.”

There were grunts and smothered groans from sundry folks and Len grinned to herself at sight of Rikki Fry scrawling at such a rate that it was a toss-up whether anyone could read her final sentence. Miss Dene had come in and was waiting to collect the papers as soon as they were handed in.

The girls went up line by line, the Advanced students giving their books to Mrs Everett and the others handing theirs to Miss Dene. Then they marched out to seek their lemonade and biscuits in the Speisesaal, after which they were free to amuse themselves quietly until the bell rang for the end of the morning. Len and Co collected into a firm clump and made their way to the rock garden where they exchanged notes eagerly.

“What did you think of it?” Rosamund Lilley demanded as they stood in one big group near the foot of the steps.

“Ghastly!” Alicia Leonard replied promptly. “I may have scraped a pass but I doubt it!”

A shriek from Betty Landon made them all turn to ask what was wrong. Betty was standing looking as if she didn’t know whether to have hysterics or not. A careless question to Ted Grantley had brought a reply that laid bare a most awful howler on her part. The others jumped on her firmly.

“Don’t be such an ass, Betty!” Rikki Fry squashed her. “One howler isn’t going to fail you. More likely get you a pass, the examiner will be so bucked to have got a laugh out of one of those papers. Fancy having to go through the lot! It’s enough to frighten a horse from his oats!”

“I hope Mdlle doesn’t start asking questions,” Betty mourned. “She’s always tough on me and she’ll be tougher than ever if she hears this. Oh, why didn’t I think? I knew it was wrong all the time!”

“Poor old Bets!” Alicia said “Well, it’s done now. I say, Len, what did you make of the poetry? I thought it was stiff.”

“It was—but I suppose it might have been worse. Anyhow, I’m not going to fuss about it now. The only thing to do is to hoe in at French II when it comes along and hope the two together will scrape me a pass,” Len said. “Anyhow, I didn’t mind this morning’s paper quite so much as I thought. The thing I’m really dreading is the maths. I don’t object to arithmetic and algebra, but I’m frightfully shaky over geom. I’ll be thankful when that’s out of the way!”

“The paper I’m dreading is the general lit.,” Ruey observed. “I never read much before I came here, so goodness knows how I’ll get on. Oh, well, no one can kill me if I do fail—but I’d like to pass if poss!”

“Let’s hope the people who set the papers have given us a jolly wide choice,” Ted groaned. “I may have a chance then. Otherwise, I’m done!”

“Ditto me!” It came from two or three of them.

“Rot!” Margot suddenly put in. “Every last one of us has done a lot of reading in rest periods, anyhow. We’re bound to get a few things we know.”

“Anyhow, it’ll be all the same a hundred years hence, I suppose,” Rosamund said with a huge sigh.

“There goes the bell!” Con exclaimed. “Scram, everyone.”

They had to go, but as she left the Speisesaal after Mittagessen, Jack Lambert contrived to catch Len. She pressed a tiny object into her hand.

“What’s this?” Len demanded, stopping and drawing her admirer to one side.

“A mascot for you. I meant to give it to you this morning, but I never got a chance. It’s to bring you luck. How’d you get on, Len?”

“Not too badly on the whole. Thanks a lot, Jack. I don’t believe in mascots, but I’ll keep him in my pocket during the exam,” Len said, tucking the tiny china black cat into her pocket. “How are you doing with your papers?”

Jack screwed up her face. “Ghastly awful! Why must we have exams now?”

“Partly to keep the school quiet for us. Partly to see if you can possibly be shoved up into the next form next term. We always have school exams at the same time as the public exams. It makes it easier all round. You dig in and do your best and see you get that remove. I’m not having any slackers in my dormy, I warn you! I must fly! Do your best!”

With this valediction, she fled, leaving Jack to trail off disgustedly in the direction of the clump of trees in whose shade the Junior Middles were doing their papers.

For the whole of the next week the school was kept busy. People with free periods between their exams generally found chairs for themselves and took books out into the garden and did what revision they could for their next paper. This was the only time they were allowed to work. Exams finished each day at 16.30 hours. Thereafter, all work was banned. They had Kaffee und Kuchen, and on four of the evenings they were rushed down to Lake Thun for swimming and boating. Other evenings, they went for rambles.

It came to the day before the end of the exams. Science people had heat, light and sound in the afternoon and those taking the art group had design. There were also five people taking Spanish, among them Joan Baker, who had dropped Latin in favour of it and had worked hard at it. All this meant that there were only six people free that afternoon, since most of Vb and quite a number from Va Group were taking the Art.

Len Maynard had met her mother during a stroll about the Platz the previous evening and had then voiced her intention of spending the entire afternoon in working at her Latin—Latin II finished the exam for her. Joey had eyed her thoughtfully, noting the shadows that lay beneath her eyes and her general air of weariness. Con and Margot were taking Design, so she could do nothing about them, but she thought that her firstborn looked as if she had had enough. She had said nothing, but had dropped in on Miss Annersley later for a brief chat. The result was that at the end of Mittagessen, the Head sent for the six and informed them, as they were free that afternoon, Mrs Maynard was taking them to Lake Thun for a picnic.

“Pack your swimming things,” she said briskly. “Len and Ted, when you are ready, go to the kitchen. Karen will have a basket ready for you. That is all, girls. Hurry up and don’t keep Mrs Maynard waiting.”

They left, one or two with long faces. Ted Grantley and Jeanne Daudet at least had intended to copy Len and spend the afternoon on their Latin. Now that was knocked on the head.

“Oh well,” Ted said, making the best of it, “it may be as well. We may feel fresher after a break. Goodness knows, I’ve swotted myself nearly blind and silly, most of this term.”

Len shrugged her shoulders. “I might have known something like this would happen after what I said to Mother last night. Why couldn’t I keep my big mouth shut?”

Ted grinned. “Don’t you worry! You look like a rasher of uncooked streaky bacon at the moment. I guess Aunt Joey would have done something about you if you’d gone dumb at her. Better her than Matey, anyhow; and I can just see Matey gunning for you once this is over unless you pull up a bit.”

“What a ghastly prospect!” But Len was grinning too. “You’re right, Ted. I’ll forget Latin and everything else and just enjoy myself.”

Joey turned up with Freudesheim’s big car when she joined the girls waiting for her in the road. Packed into it were Val and Celia, the latter looking very sorry for herself, and Mrs Everett. Other people were invigilating that afternoon, and she was taking Celia to the dentist for a stopping and Val for inspection.

“Scramble in!” Joey ordered. “This is only as far as the station. We’re going down by train, but I thought we’d save the walk there, it’s such a hot day. Luckily,” she went on as the girls piled in, “Anna was up at four picking rasps. They’re exactly right for jam and bottling and she’s having a field day of it in the kitchen, in spite of all I could say. She sent a huge basket of rasps for you folk and we’ll buy ice-cream in Thun and make a feast of it.”

Everyone cheered at this—except Celia, who remarked feelingly, “Lucky you!”

“Never mind. Once it’s all over, you’ll be safe from trouble for a while,” Joey said consolingly as she drove the car swiftly along the road. “And I’ll send over some rasps for you folk tomorrow and you can have a feast on your own account. Much more fun then. I don’t suppose you’ll be feeling much like a bun worry after Herr von Francius has done with you. But you’ll have got over it by tomorrow and be ready for anything.”

They left the car at the side of the track, ready for Jack Maynard when he came from the Sanatorium. The journey down to Interlaken was accomplished without trouble, and there Mrs Everett and her pair said goodbye and went on to catch the train to Berne. Joey and her party made for the Lake Thun pier, where they boarded the first steamer which came and presently were sailing round the lake and enjoying a cool breeze.

At the small town of Thun, they left the boat and were quickly at the bathing beaches. Thereafter, they spent a glorious afternoon, and all thoughts of tomorrow’s examination faded out of their minds. Joey was an accomplished hostess, and she kept them in fits of laughter with her reminiscences of her own schooldays. The raspberries and ice-cream were all that could be desired. By the time Mrs Maynard wistfully remarked that she supposed they’d better pack up and go, everyone was thoroughly relaxed and even Len looked more like herself.

“I wish, when the school first came out here, it had been possible to have it down here somewhere,” Prudence Dawbarn sighed. “When it was in Tirol you had the Tiern See as well as the mountains, Mrs Maynard, so you had boating and bathing every day and skating in the winter. Wouldn’t it have been fabulous if we could have gone back to the original place?”

“Unfortunately, that was out of the question,” Joey said. “And you wouldn’t care to be down here always in weather like this, Prudence. It’s terribly relaxing and a good many of you folk would be all in at times. Anyhow, you get quite a fair amount of swimming and boating. You’ve been down at least two nights every week since the hot weather began, not to mention quite a number of afternoon trips. You be grateful for that!”

Prudence subsided, and they packed up and set off to catch the lake ferry. The Everetts and Val had returned before this, of course, so Joey was reckoning that the homeward drive would be more comfortable than the earlier one. Jack had promised to meet their train with the car so that the girls would be in plenty of time for Abendessen and Prayers. However, when they stepped off the train and looked round, no car was to be seen.

Joey glanced at her watch and made a quick decision. “It’s growing late. We can’t hang around and he’s probably on the way. We’ll just set off and walk until we meet him. Come along, folks! If we start now, we needn’t hurry——”

She never finished her sentence. At that moment, the car rolled up and Jack Maynard leapt out. There was anxiety in his face and for one moment Joey’s heart stood still. What had happened? The babies—Cecil—had Anna scalded herself with jam?

He answered before she could ask. “In you get, as fast as you can! Yes; there’s trouble. Win Everett is missing and we can’t find her!”

Win had been very cross. She had wanted to go to Berne with her mother and the other two but Mrs Everett, knowing that her hands would probably be full with Celia, had refused to take her. Joey had invited the small person to spend the afternoon at Freudesheim with Cecil and the babies. Anna would be busy, but Rösli, the Coadjutor, could be safely trusted with the small fry. Audrey and Solange were both going to the Sanatorium. Mdlle de Chaumontel had asked for her niece, and Mr Everett seemed to be really on the road to recovery now. The disease was checked and the doctors all hoped that, though he must be careful, he would be able to lead a normal life.

All this being the case, Joey’s invitation came in the nick of time. Apart from Celia’s troubles, Berne would be like an oven after a week of scorching hot weather. Win was easily affected by it and her mother did not want her to have another heat attack.

Win listened sulkily to the plan made for her.

“Cecil’s just a baby,” she said crossly when she heard it. “She can’t play properly at all. If I’ve got to stay here, why can’t Audrey stay with me?”

“No,” her mother said firmly. “Audrey is going to see Daddy and we can’t disappoint him when he’s ill. Come, Win! You always enjoy yourself with Cecil and the babies. When I put you to bed tonight, I’ll tell you a lovely new story.”

She was all the firmer because Win was being spoilt at the Caramie. She was an appealing little person with her round face, fair curls and big blue eyes. Mrs Everett heartily wished that they were in their own home, but that could not be till next week. The Elisehütte had been closed for months. Even in the clean, fresh atmosphere of the Görnetz Platz there was a certain amount of cleaning to be done before it was ready for them. But it would be a relief to have her family to herself. The Gardiners and Mme Charlot were friends and so did not count.

Win, still sulky, was handed over to Rösli. Audrey kissed her goodbye and set off for the Sanatorium with Solange. Mrs Everett with her two victims and Joey Maynard rolled away in the car and Rösli, holding the hot and pudgy hand she had taken, led Win off to the rose-garden where there was always shade in the afternoons, for tall bushes and a clump of pines surrounded it. The babies were there, already asleep on rugs in their play-pen. Cecil was curled up on another rug, looking at a big picture-book. When she saw Win, she gave a little cry of delight.

“Oh, Win! Mamma said you were coming. I’m so glad. Come an’ sit down and look at my books till it’s cool.” She spoke with remarkable clearness for three years old. Only ‘R’ was a difficulty to her.

Rösli laughed. “But quietly, mein Kind,” she said, her face beaming. “Sit zere, Win, and you and our Vögelein will look at zee pretty pictures in zee big fairy-tale book, nicht? Keep in zee shade, Cecil, mein Blümchen!”

Win sat down, but she refused to see the book, though it was a beautiful edition, full of coloured illustrations, and a big treasure, for it belonged to the beginning of the century, when such books were really beautifully got up. It had come down to Joey from her much older sister and, since she had always been careful with books at any rate, and had trained her family in like habits, it was in good condition.

Cecil pushed it closer to her guest. “Look, Win! Isn’t that a pwetty picksher? It’s the Sleeping Beauty being mawwied to the pwince.”

“Don’t want to look,” Win said crossly. “That’s a baby book. I’m a big girl!”

Rösli did not hear this, having gone back to her seat beside the babies. Cecil opened her eyes widely. “But no, Win,” she said earnestly. “Mamma had it when she was a little girl an’ she says she loves it still. Do look at the pickshers!”

Win was having none of it. She picked up another book with pictures of wild beasts and sat turning the pages, not a word out of her.

Poor Cecil was dismayed. However, she was not one of a large family for nothing. If Win didn’t want to look at the book, she did. She was cross—very cross, Cecil decided. Better leave her alone, same as you did Margot or Mike when they were cross. She pulled her fairybook to her and became lost in it until the heat and the silence together overcame her and she nodded off comfortably.

Rösli, glancing across at the pair occasionally, saw what had happened. She came and picked up the book before she moved Cecil into a more comfortable position. Then she bent over Win.

“I shall show you pictures, nicht?” she said kindly. “Zee babies and Cecil will sleep, I t’ink. Komm!” She held out her hand with a kindly smile.

“I can look at the pictures myself, thank you,” Win said with dignity. “And—and I’m—sleepy myself.” She went red, for this was not true.

Rösli imagined that she felt ashamed of being drowsy like the babies. She smiled again, saying, “Zen lie down and sleep, mein Kind. Ze day is hot.” Then she nodded and smiled and went back to her chair and her sewing.

Win laid down her book and rolled on to her side. She had told a lie, but she didn’t care. People were always going away and leaving her behind. And now Audrey never seemed to mind about that horrid school and nor did the others. But she did. She wasn’t going to give in. Everyone was being horrid to her and she was going to show them!

The trouble was that she didn’t see just how she could ‘show’ them. She must stay in the garden as long as Rösli was about to keep an eye on her. And at that point, her chance came. There was a wild shriek from the house, which brought Rösli bounding to her feet. It was followed by another and another. Rösli cast a wild look at the children. All seemed fast asleep. She turned and ran as fast as her legs would carry her to the kitchen where a distraught Anna was wringing boiling jam off one hand and an arm. There was jam everywhere and the big preserving pan had rolled into a corner and lay oozing more jam. Rösli forgot her charge. She snatched at the first handy cloth and began to wipe off the jam, Anna moaning all the time. Then she fetched the big flour bin and plunged the poor hand and arm up to the elbow in the flour.

Win seized her opportunity. She jumped up, raced across the garden and let herself through the gate in the hedge into the school grounds. She ran along the path between high bushes and was brought up short by the sound of voices below her on her right hand. She must know what this was in case someone was coming who would stop her. She pushed her way through the bushes and fetched up against a low wall over which she peered cautiously.

If Miss Ferrars and the Junior Middles hadn’t been so engrossed in their own doings, they must have heard her; but they were having a ‘stand-up’ class in General Knowledge and the little girls were far too excited to bother about rustlings above them. It was lucky for them that Miss Ferrars, overhearing their form-mistresses wailing over the piles of corrections they had to do, had offered to take charge of the whole lot this afternoon, since she was well on with hers. The Junior Middles were having a lovely time of it.

Win scowled as she crouched there, listening. That nasty school again! How she loathed and hated them! If only she could do something!

Warnings of a coming sneeze sent her diving into her pocket and with her handkerchief she fished out four queer little objects she had found in one of Celia’s drawers when she was looking for her special black-cat hanky which Celia was always bagging. She had bagged these as a tit for tat. There had been six of them, but one she had dropped and the smell had been horrid. She had deliberately flung another down and got the same smell. If she threw these all in one lot, that would give those horrid girls something to think about—and the horrid mistress (n.b. Win’s vocabulary was limited as yet). With her, to think was to act. She threw the four down with all her force and then ducked down. But she heard wild yells and Jack Lambert’s voice proclaiming shrilly, “Someone chucked it over the wall, Miss Ferrars!” and turned tail promptly. She tore herself through the bushes and thick undergrowth and scuttled down the path towards the school, though she didn’t know it. And then, just as she reached the end, she heard more voices. Behind her she could hear Rösli calling for her—the doctor had arrived and taken charge of Anna, sending the Coadjutor out to the tinies—and she knew that she was caught between two fires. Turning to her left this time, she drove a way into the bushes on that side. It was even worse than the others, for there was an appalling tangle of undergrowth here, but, thoroughly scared at what she had done, Win fought her way in like a small tiger. She had an idea that if she could get through, she would come out somewhere near the road and escape that way. She gave a final plunge. The ground gave way under her feet. Win uttered a terrified cry as she felt herself going down—down! Then something banged her head hard. There was a sudden blaze of fire before her eyes. After that—darkness.

Meanwhile, Miss Ferrars had called her class to order, marched them to the far side of the rock-garden and started them off again. She had been a naughty girl in her own schooldays and she knew what had happened, but she wasn’t giving those imps from the Caramie the satisfaction of having broken up her class. Kathy Ferrars was small, but she had an iron will on occasion, and the Junior Middles were left in no doubt that they must obey. Besides, she had promised prizes to everyone who never missed a question. They were pothunters to a girl, even if the ‘pots’ were merely chocolates. They calmed down and the class went on.

But not for long. Rösli, having called and called and hunted all round the garden, was coming to seek help from the school. Her master was still busy with Anna and she would not disturb him. Her high-pitched calls became shriller and shriller and Miss Ferrars heard them and knew that something was very wrong. She brought her class to an end abruptly.

“That will do now. You have all done well and after Kaffee und Kuchen you shall all have chocolates. Now you may take the rest of the time for play. Off you go to the tennis courts. Someone will come in a minute to help you. Meantime, remember that exams are still going on in Hall and don’t make a noise. Off you go, all of you!”

The little girls ran off and Kathy Ferrars dashed up the steps after them and reached the dividing hedge just in time to prevent Rösli from going completely frantic.

“What’s wrong, Rösli?” she cried, as she ran through the gateway.

Rösli burst into tears and, with all her knowledge of German, it took the young mistress a good five minutes before she got any sense out of her. At last she had the outline and, telling Rösli to stop crying and pull herself together, Miss Ferrars thought hard.

“Oh, gnädiges Fräulein, and Frau Maynard and Frau Everett trusted me!” Rösli choked, just as Jack Maynard appeared.

“How’s Anna?” Miss Ferrars demanded.

“Not so bad as it might have been. Mercifully Rösli kept her head and I was on the spot almost at once. I’ve given her a sedative after dressing the hand and arm, so she’s resting now. So you dry your eyes and don’t be silly, Rösli,” he added. “You were very sensible and did the right thing.”

“Oh, dear!” Kathy Ferrars began. “I’m afraid there’s more to come. Win Everett has lost herself. She was to have tea with your bunch, and when Rösli rushed to Anna’s aid, the monkey seems to have gone off somewhere and Rösli can’t find her.”

“Nonsense! She’s only hiding somewhere. She won’t be far off. You go back to the babies, Rösli, and I’ll look for her myself—and bring her to apologise to you when I’ve got her,” he added.

Rösli obeyed him. She was calm again, now that her master was there to take charge. Kathy Ferrars and Jack himself turned to and hunted through every inch of the Freudesheim garden and then went over the house. But nothing was to be seen of naughty Win. Mrs Carey was asleep by her open window and he did not disturb her. She could be of no help and inwardly, he was anxious about her condition, though he was keeping that to himself for the present.

Exams ended and Kathy instantly recruited the girls to help with the search, now in the school grounds. They hunted everywhere, but it all seemed in vain. Claire Kennedy and Josette Russell did, indeed, look under the bushes at the edge of the path, but they made no effort to probe far. It seemed most unlikely that a small child like Win could have forced her way through that tangle. Some of the St Mildred girls also helped, but for all their searching and calling, they got nowhere.

“It’s impossible!” Jack Maynard exclaimed when party after party reported back to say that Win was not to be found. “A small child like that—and on a blazing hot day like this! She can’t have gone far. She must be somewhere about!”

“Oh, if only Bruno were here!” Miss Annersley exclaimed. But Bruno had gone with his mistress and at that moment was stretched full length on the deck of the ferry, very pleased with life in general.

“I suppose she hasn’t gone down to Interlaken to look for her mother?” Miss Wilson suggested.

Jack shook his head. “I doubt if she has a penny on her. No; she’s up here, somewhere. The question is—where?”

“One of us ought to take the news to the Caramie,” Miss Annersley said slowly. “Shall I do it, Jack?”

“No; I’ll go myself,” he replied. “They’ll be back by now, won’t they?”

But when he got to the Caramie he was told that between her siege with the dentist and the great heat, Celia had been desperately sick and Mrs Everett had taken her and Val to a hotel for the night. They would not be up until tomorrow.

“And just as well,” said Mrs Gardiner, giving him the news. “And I don’t suppose Audrey and Solange know anything about it yet. We met Mrs Courvoisier and her twins as we were coming back and she invited the girls to tea with her so they won’t be returning for the present. Where can that imp have got to? Is there anything I can do, Doctor?”

“Beyond keeping it from those two, if you possibly can, until we have better news—nothing,” he replied. “I only hope Audrey will realise that the blame is partly hers. It’s largely her fault that Win has taken these wild ideas about the school and us generally. However, I think we’ll leave that for the present. I must get back and see what is the next thing to do.”

Mary-Lou told him that the moment he crossed the road to the school gate. She was waiting for him and as soon as she saw him, she rushed at him.

“Uncle Jack, I’ve had an idea!”

“Well? What is it?” he demanded.

“Do you remember Aunt Joey falling into some sort of pit years and years ago when the Guides went camping by the Baumer See?^[11] She told us all about it ages ago—when we stayed by the Tiern See two years ago, to be accurate.”

“But there isn’t any pit round here,” he objected.

“Well, for all they knew until she went in, neither was there there. And what about the time when Burnie fell down the old well on St Briavel’s?^[12] I think we ought to hunt for something of that sort.”

Mention of Joey had reminded Jack of his duty. “Look here! I promised to meet them with the car and I’ll be late as it is. You folk have a look round—though I doubt if you’ll find anything,” he added sceptically. “If you do, wait till I get back. I won’t be long. I left the car in the road. Now mind what I say, Mary-Lou. No one is to try to lift her if you find her until I’m there.”

“O.K.; we won’t,” Mary-Lou promised, turning to race back with his instructions. “Scram, Uncle Jack! We might need you almost at once.”

He grunted, but he hurried. By the time he had brought Joey and her party back, having given them the bare outline on the way, everyone below Inter V had been sent to Abendessen and the big girls were once more hunting—this time for some pot-hole or pit into which Win might have fallen.

Miss Dene had also had the forethought on hearing about Celia’s troubles from Mrs Gardiner, who rang up the school to tell them, to ring up Biddy Courvoisier and give her a skeleton of the yarn asking her to keep Audrey and Solange as long as she could.

“We don’t want Audrey to have the worry until it’s over,” she explained. “Tell her about Celia and say the Maynards are keeping Win for the night and give those two a meal. It’ll be true enough. Win won’t go to the Caramie, once she’s found. Joey will keep her.”

So Audrey and Solange knew nothing about it until next day, for it was past their bedtime when Doktor Courvoisier decanted them from his car at the Caramie and Mrs Gardiner hurried them off at once.

Joey heard that they were all looking for a pit, though no one knew just where to look. So far as they knew, there wasn’t one.

“It’s just possible,” she said slowly. “Where have you looked so far? Anyone tried that shrubbery beside our gate? Not? Asses! It’s the most likely place of the lot.”

“You haven’t seen what it’s like underneath,” Josette told her darkly. “I shouldn’t like to try to push through that lot myself.”

“But the chances are that Win wouldn’t. She’d wriggle under it,” her aunt said calmly. “Anyhow, that’s where I should look.”

“We’ll need clippers and a wood-axe, then,” Jack remarked. “Look here, Joey, you take that hound of yours and go home and see what’s happening there. Len, you go with her and help her. Con, you go, too, and fetch me the clippers and the wood-chopper. Hurry, now!”

When he spoke in that tone, even Joey obeyed meekly. The three went off and presently, while she and Len went the rounds at home, Con came flying back with the chopper in one hand and the clippers in the other. He took the chopper, handing the clippers to Rosalie Dene, who was nearest, and advanced on the shrubbery, remarking as he surveyed it that it was time it was properly thinned out! Then they set to work.

Matron had had a small mattress and pillows brought out ready, also her first-aid outfit, and she and Barbara Henschell, the St Agnes Matron and an Old Girl, were standing by, ready to give any help that was needed.

Neither Jack nor Rosalie worked in an orthodox manner but they gradually got some of the bushes cut away and then Kathy Ferrars arrived with another pair of clippers and crawled in after them, and clipped industriously at the undergrowth. Suddenly, she gave a cry.

“What is it?” the doctor bawled. “Cut yourself?”

“No! I’ve found Win’s hanky. She’s here somewhere, all right!”

Everyone perked up on hearing that. Ten minutes later, Jack himself was standing on the edge of the pit, now laid open to the sky, peering down anxiously. Win was there. She lay in a pitiful little heap, quite still, but, as he found when he had carefully let himself down beside her, living. It was not a deep pit, though, quite deep enough. He saw at a glance how it had formed. An old poplar had stood here. Only a stump was left, but the soil under the roots had crumbled away, forming a pot-hole and it was into this that Win had fallen. Nor would she have been much hurt, but she had struck her head a sharp blow against one of the old roots and was concussed—how badly, he could not say until they got her out.

That it was nothing like so bad as it might have been, Win herself proved as they were carrying her on the mattress across the Freudesheim lawn. She roused up, remarked foggily, “I—feels—sick!” and was violently sick on the spot.

“Thank God!” the doctor said devoutly.

So did Mrs Everett next day when, having heard all the story so far as they knew it, she was taken to the bedroom where Win, very white and small, was sleeping herself back to health as fast as she could. She had a lump, the size of a tennis ball, where she had struck her head and all that side of her face was bruised and discoloured; but Jack assured her anxious mother that a few days would see that clearing up and she would be all right before long.

By the end of term, she was up and about, very subdued for her, but herself again. Audrey, too, was subdued. Miss Annersley had sent for her and, as her Head Mistress-to-be, had talked kindly if sternly to her on the importance of setting her younger sisters a better example than she had done recently. She ended up by crying bitterly, but she had had a lesson she wouldn’t forget in a hurry. And in spite of the Head’s unflinching lecture, she did not resent a word. Indeed, before she left the study, she thanked Miss Annersley and promised to do her best in future.

As for Win, nothing was said to her until she was all right. Then, Nemesis fell and she was made to understand just how naughty she had been. She had to apologise to Rösli for giving her so much trouble and for lying to her. She had to apologise to Miss Ferrars and the two Heads for making trouble for them. Finally, she was told that, for the future, she would not be trusted by herself outside until she had shown that she was truly sorry for all her naughtiness.

Win wept long and loudly, but her mother would not relent. For the few days left of the school term and for all the holidays, whenever she went out, she had to have someone older with her. On the whole, everyone was thankful that they were in the Elisehütte and not at the Caramie, where she might have received a good deal of sympathy from strangers. But she did say that she was sorry and she even said that she wouldn’t hate the school any more because they had been kind to her.

“Well,” said Joey on the evening when this occurred, as she was sitting in the Staff sitting-room where everyone was looking forward to the morrow when holidays began, “it’s been a long pull and a hard pull, but we’ve done it, though I don’t mind admitting now there were times when I wondered if we ever would.”

“Yes; we’ve done it,” Miss Wilson agreed. “Even young Win seems in a fair way to forget her grievances and come round.”

“I was beginning to think nothing would ever do that, she held out so long—obstinate little demon!” Joey said, standing up and gathering together the bits and pieces she had tossed down when she first arrived. “I needn’t have worried, though. Trust the Chalet School to win the trick!”

[The end of The Chalet School Wins the Trick by Elinor Mary Brent-Dyer]