quoted Enid. "That's how I feel, exactly."

"Perhaps she feels the same about you," suggested Winnie.

"Perhaps she does, but I don't care in the least. I don't like her voice, nor the cold way she looks at me and says, 'Now, Enid!' She's only an assistant teacher, and I'm not going to obey her as if she were Miss Lincoln or Miss Harper. She needn't expect it."

Certainly poor Miss Rowe found Enid a very trying pupil. Her attention was ever wandering, and she was invariably engaged in some mischief calculated to distract the rest of the class. She would sometimes give a wrong answer on purpose to raise a laugh; she could never lift the lid of her desk without letting it fall with a bang; and the contents of her pencil-box seemed always ready to disperse themselves over the floor. One morning the girls were having a lesson in grammar, and were diligently repeating Latin derivations and Anglo-Saxon suffixes, when some chance called Patty's attention to Enid. She noticed the latter open her desk stealthily, and draw out a tiny paper box, which she placed on her knee, and covered with her pocket handkerchief. Patty wondered what she was doing. It was evidently something which required great secrecy, for Enid glanced carefully round to see whether anyone was watching her; then, as nobody except Patty appeared to be looking, she drew away a fold of her handkerchief, cautiously opened the little box, and out hopped a huge grasshopper, which bounded straight on to Cissie Gardiner's blouse. Patty was so fascinated by gazing at it, and wondering where its next leap would take it, that she started when Miss Rowe asked her a question, and for once failed with her answer.

"Ad, ante," she began, but could get no further. Her eyes were glued to Cissie's blouse, and Cissie, noticing she was the cause of Patty's hesitation, looked down at her sleeve, and sprang up with a scream.

"Take it off! Somebody take it off!" she entreated. At this point the grasshopper promptly hopped away, no one could see where. Each girl naturally thought it might be on herself, and, jumping up, shook her skirts frantically. The class was instantly in the greatest disorder. Ella Johnson and May Firth stood on their seats, loudly protesting their horror of all creeping or crawling insects.

"Don't let it come on me! Oh, don't!" wailed Kitty Harrison.

"It's there!" exclaimed Maud Greening.

"Where?"

"It's hopped on to Doris."

"Oh! It will go down my neck!" shrieked Doris.

"No, it's hopped off again."

"It's on Maggie Woodhall's desk."

"Catch it, Maggie!"

"I daren't! I daren't!"

"Squash it with your ruler."

"I couldn't! I hate squashing things!"

"It's gone again."

"It will be on me next!"

"There it is on Maggie's desk again."

"Girls! Girls! Calm yourselves and keep still!" cried Miss Rowe's measured voice. "Maggie, sit down at once!"

The teacher strode across the room, and, catching the grasshopper in her hand, put it safely out of the window, then turned again to her agitated class.

"Order!" she said sternly; and after waiting a few moments until her pupils had regained their self-control, she continued: "Who let loose that grasshopper?"

"I did, Miss Rowe," replied Enid, promptly.

"Then you will leave the room at once, Enid. You will take a bad mark for conduct, and you will learn two pages of Greek chronology, and repeat them to me to-morrow morning before nine o'clock. Go immediately!"

Enid obeyed with as much noise as she could; she was in a naughty frame of mind, and enjoyed banging the door after her. She did not greatly care about either the bad mark for conduct or the Greek chronology, though she had an uncomfortable qualm when it occurred to her that the episode might possibly come to Miss Lincoln's ears. For this once, however, she was safe. Miss Rowe was anxious to manage her troublesome class without constant reference to the headmistress, and thought it better not to report the affair. She determined, nevertheless, that Enid, being the centre of so much mischief, should move from her desk, and, instead of sitting in the second row from the back, should be in front, directly under her teacher's eye. She mentioned her wish to Miss Harper, who ordered Enid to change places with Beatrice Wynne, and to transfer her books to her new desk before the next morning. Enid was furious.

"I won't go!" she declared to her companions. "Not unless Miss Rowe drags me there."

"You'll have to!" said Avis.

"I don't know about that. No one can force me to do a thing I don't want, not even Miss Lincoln."

"Miss Lincoln would expel you if you didn't do what you were told."

"I shouldn't care!"

"Oh, Enid, don't be silly! It can't make such a difference where you sit. I'll help you to move all your books, and put your new desk tidy," said Patty, hoping to pour oil on the troubled waters, and adding: "You'll have one advantage. You'll be close to Miss Harper in the botany class, and she'll hand you the specimens first. I wish I might change instead of you. I always envied Beatrice when she was pulling off petals, and we were craning our necks to try and look."

"It's easy enough to see the bright side for somebody else," grumbled Enid.

"Let us have our removal now," continued Patty, wisely taking no notice. "Beatrice is quite ready; aren't you, Beatrice? We'll lay all the things on the seat, and dust the desk inside before we put them in."

"I wouldn't do it for anybody but you," said Enid, allowing herself to be persuaded.

Beatrice soon emptied her desk, and it did not take very long to arrange the books in their new quarters. The alteration was effected almost before Enid realized it, and the storm which Patty had dreaded for her friend's sake was avoided. Nevertheless, Patty was not easy about Enid.

"She'll be getting into serious trouble some day," she thought. "I wish she would behave better in Miss Rowe's classes. Things can't always go on like this, and if Miss Rowe were to tell her to report herself in the library, I don't believe even Enid would like to face Miss Lincoln and find her really angry. I know I shouldn't."

It seemed no use for Patty to try remonstrances. Enid only laughed, and would not listen to her.

"Patty, you're a dear!" she declared. "I love you the best of any girl I know, but even you can't persuade me to like Miss Rowe. It's no use. We're flint and steel, or frost and fire; or oil and water, or anything else you can name that oughtn't to go together, and won't mix. The very tone of her voice annoys me."

"Why should it?"

"It's so prim. The way she pokes out her chin and says 'Enid!' is most disagreeable. It always makes me want to be naughty. Yes, it does; don't shake your head. I've told you a hundred times I'm not good like you, and I simply can't be. I'm like a bottle of soda-water with the cork popped, and I have to fizz over sometimes."

It was unfortunate that Enid should have taken such a dislike to her teacher, for she kept up a state of ill-feeling among the girls which otherwise would probably have died away. Absurd trifles were magnified and made much of, and ridiculous grievances were nursed and cherished. One day Miss Rowe set the upper division a grammar exercise consisting of two questions. The first was long and very difficult; it was on the origin of the English language, and required a certain knowledge of various Anglo-Saxon roots, a list of words derived from ancient British, and some account of the Norman-French period. The second and shorter question was simply a sentence to be parsed. No one in the class had a good memory for derivations. Fourteen out of the fifteen members spent the half-hour racking their brains and biting the ends of their pens in vain endeavours to complete their answers to Question 1, so that when it was time to hand in their exercise books, they had written very little, and that little was mostly wrong. The exercises were corrected and returned the next day, and each girl, with the solitary exception of Ella Johnson, found she had received a bad mark.

"It's too disgusting!" said Beatrice Wynne. "I don't believe even Miss Rowe herself could have answered that question without looking at the book."

"How did you manage it, Ella? You're the only one who's scraped through," asked Avis.

"I didn't attempt it," said Ella. "I did the parsing instead."

"You mean to say you didn't do Question 1 at all?" exclaimed Kitty Harrison.

"No, not I."

"How abominably unfair!" cried Enid. "I thought everybody had to begin with the first question. All the rest of us took so long over it, that we hadn't time for the parsing, and yet we got bad marks, and you, who hadn't even tried, got a good mark. It's just like Miss Rowe's meanness."

"It's really too bad," said Winnie. "Someone ought to go to Miss Rowe and ask her about it."

"Yes, so they ought."

"Who will, then?"

Nobody volunteered for the disagreeable task, and Avis suggested that Winnie herself might be suitable.

"I daren't, after the snubbing I got yesterday," said Winnie. "She wouldn't listen to me."

"I think it would be best if we were to draw lots," said Enid.

"No, don't draw lots, it seems like gambling," said Avis. "Suppose we count as we do for games? Stand in a circle, and I'll begin. Are you ready?"

"The first one who gets 'out' will have to go and tell Miss Rowe what we think, then," agreed Enid.

"'One, two, three, four, Jenny at the cottage door," began Avis. "'Eating cherries off a plate, five, six, seven, eight. One, two, three, out goes she.' Why, it's you, Winnie, after all."

"I wish it wasn't," groaned Winnie. "However, I suppose I shall have to go. Miss Rowe's in the studio, so I'll ask her now and get it over."

"Tell her we don't think it's fair," said Enid.

"And that Ella ought to have a bad mark too," said Kitty Harrison.

"Oh, you mean thing! It's not my fault," protested the indignant Ella.

"You can say we might all have done the parsing if we'd begun it first," said Beatrice.

"And don't forget to say there wouldn't have been time to answer two such long questions," said Maggie Woodhall.

"I'll do the best I can, but don't expect too much," replied Winnie. "Stay here, all of you, till I come back."

Winnie returned in about five minutes with a doleful face. "It's no use," she assured the girls, "I can't make Miss Rowe understand the point at all. She would only say: 'You wrote a very ill-prepared exercise, which did not deserve a good mark, and if you think I am going to excuse bad work you are quite mistaken'."

"It's just what I expected," declared Enid. "Miss Rowe carries everything with such a high hand, she won't take the trouble to listen properly when one tries to explain."

"It's a shame!" said all the girls, indignantly.

"I wish we could find some way of paying her out," said Enid.

"What could we do?"

"Let me think. I know! Suppose we none of us say 'Good morning' to her when she comes into the schoolroom to-morrow to take the register."

"Oh, yes! That would be splendid, and then she would see our opinion of her."

"Every girl must vow she won't say it, even you, Patty!"

"I think you're very silly," said Patty, "but I shan't be there myself. I always have my music lesson at nine o'clock on Friday mornings."

"So much the better," said Enid. "You were the only one I thought might spoil it. Will everybody else promise?"

All gave the required assent. The girls were anxious to air their grievance, and this seemed the most feasible way of showing their teacher their displeasure. At five minutes to nine on the following morning, they were seated in their places waiting for the second bell to ring. Miss Rowe entered punctually, and turning to the class as usual said: "Good morning".

There was no reply. She waited a moment in much astonishment.

"Good morning, girls," she said again.

Still there was dead silence in the room.

"I will give you one more chance. I cannot believe that you can be so deliberately and intentionally discourteous. Good morning, girls."

What would have happened at this juncture, whether the girls would have still persisted in defying their teacher, and so have obliged her to report their conduct to Miss Lincoln, or whether they would have given way with an ill grace, it is impossible to say. Fortunately for all concerned, Miss Harper was rather earlier than usual that day, and arriving in the schoolroom exactly at the critical moment, she saved the situation. Her greeting was answered by a chorus of "Good morning", which might be intended for both mistresses. Miss Rowe had the good sense to take no further notice, and to proceed at once to mark the register; and as she did not refer to the subject afterwards, the girls felt doubtful whether their little mutiny had been quite so effective as they had meant it to be.

"I wish Miss Rowe wasn't so horribly particular," said Avis, tidying her possessions ruefully a few days afterwards. "She says she's going to look at all our desks this afternoon, and give forfeits for any that are in a muddle. I haven't rummaged to the back of mine for ever so long. I scarcely know what's in it. Why, what's this? It's actually a box of fusees. I remember now, I brought them from home. I'd quite forgotten I had them."

"Oh, do give them to me!" cried Enid. "They make such a lovely hissing noise, I like to hear them go off."

"You'd better not strike them in class, then," replied Avis.

"Do you dare me to?"

"Why, even you wouldn't do such a risky thing!"

"Oh! What would Miss Rowe say if you did it in the very middle of Euclid?" said Cissie Gardiner, with round eyes of delighted horror.

"Then I will, just to show you I dare. I'm not afraid of Miss Rowe!" declared Enid, appropriating the box and putting it in her pocket.

The girls laughed, not believing for a moment that she really intended to carry out her threat. The bell rang, Miss Rowe entered, and lessons began before they had time to say anything more about it. Euclid was not a favourite subject with the Upper Fourth. It was considered dry, and the half-hour devoted to it was regarded as more or less of a penance. In the very middle of the fifth proposition, when Miss Rowe had changed the letters on the blackboard, and was endeavouring to make Vera Clifford grasp the principle of the reasoning, instead of merely repeating the problem by rote, Enid's head was bent low over her desk, and her fingers appeared to be busy with something.

"Y G K = D F O," droned Vera in a melancholy voice.

Suddenly there was a striking sound, and a loud, long hiss.

"Oh! oh! oh!" came in a subdued chorus from all sides.

"Enid, what are you doing?" cried Miss Rowe, sharply.

For answer naughty Enid held up the hissing fusee in a kind of daring triumph, but as she raised her head her long curly hair, which was floating loose, brushed against the burning spark, and in an instant blazed up, setting fire also to the sleeve of her thin lawn blouse. With a wild shriek she dropped the fusee, and, springing from her seat, would have tried in her terror to rush from the room had she not been prevented by Miss Rowe, who, with admirable presence of mind, seized the duster from the blackboard, and with only that and her bare hands succeeded in stifling the flames. The whole class was in a panic. Jean Bannerman ran at once for Miss Hall, the teacher in the next room, and in a very short space of time Miss Lincoln herself arrived on the scene. Finding that Enid and Miss Rowe were the only two hurt, she carried them off at once to apply first aid until a doctor could be summoned, leaving Miss Hall to try and calm the agitated girls. Cissie Gardiner was sobbing hysterically, and all were offering versions of the accident in such a state of excitement, that it was difficult to understand their accounts.

"Enid Walker lighted a fusee?" repeated Miss Hall, almost incredulously. "Then she alone is responsible for this unhappy occurrence. I can only trust that neither she nor Miss Rowe is seriously injured. Girls, go back to your desks. I must return now to my own class, but I will send a prefect to you as soon as possible. I trust to your good feeling to work in silence at your preparation for to-morrow."

Miss Rowe and Enid were taken to the sanatorium, which was always kept in readiness to receive urgent cases. Both were suffering greatly from the shock: Miss Rowe's hands were badly scorched, and Enid had a severe burn on her arm and also on her neck. The doctor, having completed his dressings, ordered them both to be kept very quiet, and not to receive visitors until he gave his permission. It was several days, therefore, before Enid was allowed to see any of her school-fellows, and when the nurse at last declared that she might have a friend to spend half an hour with her, she fixed her choice at once upon Patty. The latter had been two or three times a day to the sanatorium to enquire how the invalids were progressing, so it was with great eagerness that she now knocked at the door. She was admitted by the nurse, and after a warning not to excite her companion, was shown to Enid's room. Enid was lying on the sofa, her arm swathed in bandages; some of her pretty hair had been cut away, and her face looked white, with dark circles round her eyes, as if she had not slept. Patty, after a rapturous greeting, sat down on a chair by her side, and began to tell her the school news.

"Everybody sent all kinds of messages," she said. "It seems so funny in class without either you or Miss Rowe. Have you seen Miss Rowe? Are her hands very bad?"

"They're both bandaged up," replied Enid. "She won't be able to use them for some time. Wasn't it brave of her to rush at me with the duster? Do you know, she's been so nice. We had a long talk last night, and she told me ever so many things. She meant to go to Girton when she left school, but her father lost all his money, and she had to begin to teach at once, so that she could help a younger brother. She's paying for his education herself, and he's doing splendidly at his school, and she's so proud of him, and hopes he may win a scholarship. If I'd only known all this, I wouldn't have made it so hard for her. I'm as sorry for that now as I am about her hands being burnt."

"I always thought Miss Rowe was nicer than you imagined. I'm so glad you've found it out," said Patty.

"I expect she's one of those people who improve on acquaintance," continued Enid. "I couldn't bear her at one time, and now I believe I'm going to like her immensely. You can't think how jolly she can make herself. I'll never be naughty in her class again, or let anybody else be, if I can help it. On my honour I won't!"

Enid was as good as her word. When she and Miss Rowe were well enough to again take their places in school, the young teacher found, to her surprise, that all her trouble with the Upper Fourth was at an end. The girls regarded her in the light of a heroine, and her new popularity gave her an influence over them which her efforts at strict discipline had not been able to gain.

"She seems quite different," said Winnie, voicing the feelings of the class. "She's far pleasanter than she used to be, and now she doesn't order us about so much, we don't seem to want to do so many things we oughtn't. She's really very pretty, you know; her nose is just perfect, and her hair is so thick and fair. Of course she can't compare with Miss Harper, but still I like her ever so much better than I did before, and I vote we give her a tremendous clapping on Speech Day."

CHAPTER XIII
The School Picnic

"It's a dear little seaside place near Chelstone. There's a nice sandy shore, and Phyllis says she shouldn't be surprised if we were allowed to take our costumes with us and bathe."

"Oh, how glorious! I do hope we shall."

"I believe it depends on the tide," said Winnie.

"Why on the tide? How absurd!"

"No, it's not absurd. The sea goes out very far at Moorcliffe, and leaves a large sandy bay. You don't want to walk half a mile to the water. If the tide's up in the morning, and we can get our dip then, it will be quite right, because there will be time for our costumes to dry afterwards in the sun; but if it's not high water till afternoon, we shall have to do without our swim. It would be impossible to carry back more than seventy dripping bathing-dresses."

"Unless we chartered a tank for them and put them in the luggage van," laughed Enid. "I hope the tide will be nice and accommodating. Hasn't anybody got an almanac?"

"Miss Lincoln is planning it all out, and is to tell us on Saturday."

"I don't think it depends entirely on the tide," said Beatrice Wynne. "I was talking to Miss Latimer, and she says she knows of a splendid pool under the cliff, which is always quite deep enough to swim in at low water. She's going to tell Miss Lincoln about it."

"If we don't arrange for Moorcliffe, we shall probably go to Bradley, and look over the Castle," said Maggie Woodhall.

"I hope not," said Cissie Gardiner. "I've seen several castles, and they're all alike. You walk on the battlements, and peep down the well, which is half filled with rubbish and ferns, and an old woman unlocks the dungeon, and shows you a rusty chain, and then you eat sandwiches in the courtyard. I'd far rather go to the sea."

Cissie's wish was gratified, for on Saturday morning Miss Lincoln gave the welcome announcement that she had decided the picnic should be at Moorcliffe on the following Thursday, provided that the weather was favourable, and that no unforeseen event occurred in the meantime.

"Miss Lincoln always puts in a warning note of that kind," said Enid. "I wonder what she expects to happen. Does she imagine we shall all catch scarlet fever, or break our legs, before Thursday?"

"I should hope not, but of course it might be wet. If it's a pouring day, we're to go on Friday instead," said Avis.

"To-day, Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday to get through," said Jean. "It's a frightfully long time. I feel as if Thursday would never come."

"So do I. I should like to go to bed, and sleep straight through till Thursday."

"You lazy girl! Suppose you didn't wake, and we left you behind?"

"You wouldn't do that," declared Avis. "I shall be up first of all, you'll see."

In spite of the girls' impatience, the longed-for Thursday came at last, and proved such a fine, clear, beautiful day, that there was not the slightest hesitation as to whether they should start or not. Avis fulfilled her promise of early rising by getting up to watch the dawn, and tried to make her sleepy room mates share her enthusiasm, an attention which they scarcely appreciated when they discovered that she had roused them three hours too soon. Long before the usual bell rang everybody was up and dressed, which did not bring breakfast any the quicker, though it allowed the girls time to work off some of their spirits by a run round the garden. Punctually at a quarter to nine o'clock a row of omnibuses arrived to convey the seventy-three pupils and their ten teachers to the station. Each girl carried her bathing costume and towel in a neat parcel, and large hampers of lunch were in readiness.

"Miss Lincoln's taking the cricket tent," announced Cissie Gardiner. "There it is, all wrapped up with its poles and pegs. Miss Latimer and Miss Rowe are going to put it up on the beach, and then we can undress and dress there again when we bathe. It's not very big. I'm sure it can't possibly hold more than six of us at a time, so we shall have to go in relays, and be very quick."

Patty felt at the high-water mark of bliss when she found herself seated on the top of an omnibus between Enid and Jean, with Avis and Winnie close by. She could have wished the drive longer, but when they reached the station, and found the saloon carriages ready for them, labelled "Special Excursion—Reserved", she was as anxious to get into the train as she had been to remain on the omnibus. There were, of course, many little excitements. Winnie nearly left the parcel containing her bathing-dress on the seat near the booking office, only remembering it just in time; Maggie Woodhall's hat blew away over the line, and had to be recovered by the guard; and one of the luncheon baskets fell off the truck as the porter was wheeling it along the platform, much to Miss Lincoln's dismay, till she discovered it was luckily not the one which held the breakables. Each mistress was to be personally responsible for her own class, and for the day the six prefects were given as full powers of authority as the teachers; so Miss Lincoln hoped that with so many people to look after them, her lively pupils might find no opportunity of getting into mischief, or running into danger. All were able to take their places at once in the carriages which had been waiting for them in a siding at the station, and were shunted on to the Chelstone train when it arrived. The porters banged the doors with their usual vigour, the guard waved his green flag, and at last they were off for their delightful excursion. It was less than an hour's journey to Moorcliffe, so by half-past ten the entire school was walking in a procession through the small village, across the cliff, and down on to the beach. The tide unfortunately was low, so Miss Lincoln was glad to avail herself of Miss Latimer's knowledge of the place to find the cove where there was a convenient bathing pool. It was some little distance along the shore, and the girls were much tempted to linger to pick up shells or sea urchins; but the prefects urged them sternly on, assuring them that they would find plenty more of such treasures, and that time was passing quickly by.

"When you consider how small the tent is, and how many of us have to take it in turns to use it, you'll understand we need the whole morning for our bathe," said Phyllis Chambers.

They at last reached the sheltered nook among the rocks which Miss Latimer had chosen. The sea, retreating far into the distance, had here left a wide and fairly deep pool, through which flowed one of the many channels that intersected the bay. It was a pleasant spot, far enough from the village to promise retirement, and the sparkling water lapping gently in the sunshine looked inviting. Aided by a band of willing workers, Miss Latimer and Miss Rowe soon erected the tent; the girls effected their changes of costume with lightning speed, and in half an hour a passing stranger might have imagined the coast to be invaded by an army of mermaids. Jean, who had brought her camera, took several snapshots of the lively scene.

"It reminds me of pictures I've seen of colonies of seals basking about on the rocks," she declared. "Now, Patty, put yourself in a picturesque attitude. I wish I dare ask Miss Rowe to let down her lovely hair, I'm sure it would look so nice."

"Violet Chambers is swimming on her back," said Enid. "I'm so glad to have the opportunity of watching her. I heard she could do it, but we never get a chance to see the Second Class girls in the bath."

"And Mabel Morgan is trying to make a wheel," said Winnie. "Oh, look at her! Isn't she clever? There! She's come to grief over it. I expected she would."

"I haven't any accomplishments," said Avis. "I can only paddle round and round the pool and float. I wish I were in the channel over there, and could swim for a couple of miles."

"I heard Miss Lincoln tell Miss Latimer she was very glad the tide was low, because it was absolutely safe here, and if we were in the real sea, she should not know a moment's freedom from anxiety until she saw us all out again."

"Miss Lincoln is quite ridiculous! What harm could happen to us? Of course the pool is better fun than the swimming bath at The Priory, but it's nothing to feeling yourself on big waves."

"We're going to Devonshire for our summer holiday, and I shall be able to have some glorious swimming there, I expect," said May Firth.

"You'll have to mind not to get into a current," said Ella Johnson. "We were staying in Cornwall last year, and my brother was nearly carried out to sea by one. He declared it must have been the Gulf Stream; it was so tremendously strong, it whirled him along, and he felt quite helpless. All he could do was to float and to call, hoping somebody might hear him. No one did for a long time, and he had drifted ever so far from land, when at last a boat was passing, and some fishermen picked him up. They told him it was very dangerous to swim there, when he didn't know the coast."

"It's all right if you don't get cramp," said Avis. "That must be dreadful. Once when we spent our holidays at Whitby we had such an adventure. We were walking along the shore, and we saw a young lady swimming a little distance out. Suddenly she flung up her arms and shrieked, and went down into the water. My father threw off his coat and his boots, and swam to the spot where she came up. He managed to catch hold of her by her hair, and get her back to land. She was quite insensible, and I thought she must be dead; but my uncle, who's a doctor, was with us, and he immediately began the treatment for the drowned, just like Miss Latimer teaches us in the swimming lessons. I helped to work her arms up and down and to rub her, and at last she opened her eyes. We were so relieved. She called at our lodgings afterwards to thank us, and said she had gone for a little afternoon dip alone; and she supposed the water must have been colder than usual, because all at once she felt a terrible pain in her leg, and could not move. She said it was the most awful sensation to feel she was sinking, and not to be able to save herself."

"It was lucky for her that your father was close by to rescue her!"

"Yes, and Uncle Arthur too, to bring her round afterwards. I don't think it's very safe for girls to go swimming alone."

No mermaids could have had a pleasanter time idling about in the pool than Patty and her friends. They tried various performances in fancy swimming, which, however, were quite unsuccessful, though they all assisted to hold each other up during the experiments. They were in the midst of a frantic effort to dance the Lancers in two feet of water, when Miss Latimer called to them to come at once; and as the limited accommodation of the bathing tent necessitated that the girls must make their toilets in relays, they were obliged reluctantly to tear themselves away, and in due course join the others, who were sitting on the sand letting their loose hair dry in the sun and wind. Everybody was very ready to open the luncheon baskets at half-past twelve. The sea air had given fine appetites, and the provisions vanished steadily. Each class had brought its own special hamper, and there was a great deal of laughter when those of the Third and Fifth Classes got changed by mistake, the thirteen indignant members of the former only receiving the amount which had been intended for ten. The upper and lower divisions of the Fourth feasted separately, the one under the auspices of Miss Harper, and the other with Miss Rowe, as it would have been impossible to pack lunch for twenty-two girls in one hamper, unless, as Enid suggested, they had used a clothes basket for the purpose. After lunch, Miss Lincoln insisted that everybody should take half an hour's quiet rest lying on the beach.

"Many of you were awake at daylight," she said, "and you have been racing about and exciting yourselves since before breakfast-time. I am afraid you will all be thoroughly tired out by evening, so I forbid anyone to speak; and if you can go to sleep, so much the better."

I hardly think Miss Lincoln expected her injunctions to be absolutely obeyed; at any rate, a certain amount of whispering went on among the girls, who collected in little groups to take the required repose, while a low laugh every now and then did not indicate sound slumber. Avis piled up a pillow of sand, and closed her eyes complacently, until she found Winnie was tickling the end of her nose with a piece of seaweed; Enid lay curled up under the shadow of a rock, looking at her watch every few minutes; and Jean and Patty played a silent game of noughts and crosses on slabs of smooth stone. The moment the half-hour was finished the girls sprang up, and commenced to chatter with renewed avidity, showing in their own lively fashion that they were not yet tired, however they might feel by the end of the day. The classes separated during the afternoon, some going for walks on the headland, and others strolling farther along the beach, searching for cockles on the sandbank, or throwing stones at a mark. They all met at four o'clock for tea at the small hotel on the edge of the cliff, where tables and forms had been set out in the garden, and the innkeeper and his wife and two daughters were busily bustling about, carrying plates of cakes and buns, jugs of milk, and trays full of cups and saucers, to meet the requirements of their army of young guests. It was a merry meal, for everybody was full of jokes and fun. Miss Harper told amusing stories, and Miss Lincoln asked riddles, and Miss Rowe forgot she was keeping order, and chatted almost like one of the girls themselves.

"I could sit here all afternoon," said Enid, "just watching the sea and the boats and the people down on the shore below. If I could only get up a second appetite, I should like to begin tea over again."

"You can have some more if you like. Miss Lincoln doesn't limit you," laughed Avis.

"No, thank you. The copybooks say: 'Never attempt impossibilities'. I shall go and sit on the edge of the cliff."

"Come with me," said Winnie, "and we'll have a game of golf just to ourselves, with two sticks and an indiarubber ball. You can't think what fun it is. I was trying on the common a little while ago. Will you come too, Patty?"

"No, thanks," said Patty. "I should only spoil sport. I mean to go down on to the sands again. You can call to me when you've finished, and perhaps I'll come up; but I won't promise, because I like the shore the very best of all."

CHAPTER XIV
On the Rocks

"Where are you going?" called Phyllis Chambers, who was engaged in taking down the bathing tent.

"Oh! nowhere in particular," they replied, stopping as if they had been rather caught; "only just for a little stroll, to say good-bye to the waves."

"You mustn't go beyond the next point of rock; Miss Lincoln said so."

"Miss Lincoln said nothing about the shore. She said the white farm on the cliff," replied Maud, rather sulkily.

"Well, that rock is exactly underneath the farm."

"We were only going to peep round the point. It wouldn't take five minutes," said Muriel.

"I can't allow it, all the same," said Phyllis, firmly.

"I'm sure Miss Lincoln never meant——" began Kitty Harrison, but she was interrupted by Phyllis.

"Miss Lincoln has put me in authority for this afternoon. I have her orders, and I tell you you're not to go."

Looking very cross and disconsolate, the four girls sat down on the sand a little distance away, to grumble and discuss the situation.

"I don't believe Miss Lincoln meant exactly what she said," declared Kitty.

"I'm sure she didn't. It's only Phyllis who's so proud of being prefect, and likes to show her authority," agreed Maud.

"I don't see why we should do as she tells us; she's only a schoolgirl like ourselves," said Vera.

"I expect she wanted to be nasty, and pay us out for what happened last week in the gymnasium," said Muriel.

"It's too bad!"

"It's an absolute shame!"

"Suppose we were to go after all," suggested Vera tentatively.

"But Phyllis would stop us."

"She won't see. She's taking the tent poles and walking up that path towards the hotel. She'll be round the corner in half a minute."

"Why, so she is!"

"If we're quick we could be beyond the point before she comes back."

"Then come along at once."

"Yes, don't let us waste a moment."

The four girls jumped up, and, hurrying off, went away round the rock with such record speed, that by the time Phyllis returned to fetch the remainder of the tent they were well out of sight. Imagining that they must have walked down the beach towards the village, Phyllis did not trouble to go and look for them, so the only person who knew the real direction they had taken was Patty, who happened to have overheard most of the conversation, and to have seen their hasty flight. Having examined as many sea anemones as she cared to, Patty climbed up a steep little track on to the cliff again, and spent a blissful half-hour by herself, lying in the sunshine on a bed of purple heath, watching the white sails of the boats in the distance, and a steamer far out on the horizon. From her point of lookout she had a very good view over the whole of the large bay. How fast the tide was flowing in! The sandbanks, which only ten minutes ago had gleamed yellow in the sunshine, were now covered with water, and a huge white wave appeared at the mouth of the estuary, advancing with threatening speed.

"It must be the tidal wave that Phyllis spoke about," thought Patty. "She told us how dangerous it is on this coast, how it comes in with a great rush, as fast as a man can run, and floods all the bay quite suddenly. I expect that was the reason Miss Lincoln wouldn't let us go far along the beach this afternoon. Why! Surely that cannot be Muriel and the others such a long way out upon the sands! I thought they would have been back before now. Yes, it is! And their backs are turned to the sea! They're sauntering along as calmly as if the tide were going down instead of rising. Oh, why don't they look round and hurry?"

Patty sprang to her feet and waved her handkerchief frantically, but the girls were not looking in her direction, and took no notice. What was she to do? She felt, at all costs, they must be warned. She would be obliged to disregard Miss Lincoln's orders, and to go along the beach and tell them of their danger. There was not time to run back and ask permission. Nobody else was in sight, so she must decide on her own authority that it was expedient for once to disobey. Scrambling quickly on to the shore by an even more precipitous path than the one by which she had ascended, Patty made what haste she could along the sands towards her companions. She shouted to them while she was still a considerable distance off, but though they waved their hands in reply, they did not come any the faster.

"How stupid they are!" thought Patty. "Can't they see the water behind them? They walk as if they were strolling round the quad."

With an extra effort she hurried on, and reached them out of breath and panting.

"Why don't you make haste?" she gasped. "Didn't you hear me call?"

"It's all very well to say 'Make haste!'" replied Maud. "We can't get Muriel along."

"I've hurt my foot," said Muriel. "I slipped on a stone, and I think I must have sprained my ankle. It hurts dreadfully when I lean any weight upon it. Let me have your arm, Patty."

"Don't you see how fast the tide's rising?" said Patty, giving the asked-for assistance. "If we're not very quick we shall be surrounded."

"Why, so we shall!" exclaimed Vera. "I didn't notice it before. Come along at once. We must run."

"I can't run," said Muriel fretfully, "you know I can't. I can scarcely even limp as it is."

"You must," said Maud, taking her other arm; "that is, if you don't want to be drowned."

"Don't pull me, Maud," cried Muriel, "you're hurting me. Oh, I can't go any faster! My foot will give way underneath me."

"What are we to do?" said Kitty blankly. "The water's rushing round on both sides of us! If we don't get across that piece of sand in front directly, we shall be on an island."

"Let us make a chair of our hands," suggested Patty, "and try to carry Muriel. See, Maud! Clasp my wrists like this, and I'll clasp yours. Muriel, sit down! Now, then; one, two, let's step together."

"She's too heavy; I can't manage it!" exclaimed Maud, dropping her burden on to the sands.

"Then you try, Kitty."

"No, no! I'm not so strong as Maud. Oh, look at the water!"

"Come along, girls," shouted Vera, "we must run for our lives! It's no use our all being drowned."

"Maud! Kitty! Vera! You don't mean to leave me?" shrieked Muriel.

"Quick! Quick!" was the sole reply she received, as her three friends took to their heels, and, without even turning to look at her, dashed across the narrow belt of dry land which led between two channels to the safer bank of shingle beyond.

"The cowards! The mean cowards!" cried Muriel, white with anger and alarm. "Patty, are you going too?"

"Not without you," replied Patty, sturdily. "Here, I'll help you up, Muriel, and we must push on, even if we have to wade. Catch hold of my arm again, and try to walk."

"It hurts so; my foot won't hold me. Oh, the pain is so bad, I must stop for a minute!"

Patty looked round desperately. Their situation was indeed most dangerous. The one path to safety was already covered, and even if they were able to hurry on fast, it was doubtful whether they would be able to wade to the shore. They were cut off on every side, and their little island was each moment diminishing in size.

"We must climb on to these rocks," she exclaimed. "Let us scramble up the tallest; perhaps it may be above high-water mark. Put your arms round my neck, Muriel, and I'll carry you as well as I can."

Almost sinking under her cousin's weight, Patty staggered along till she reached the jagged, seaweed-covered rock, which she hoped might afford them a temporary place of security. Groaning with pain, Muriel managed with Patty's help to drag herself slowly to the summit.

"Why did I come?" she said. "It was all Vera's fault. She persuaded us to go, and then kept taking us a little farther and a little farther every time we wanted to turn back. We shall be drowned; I know we shall."

"I don't think so," returned Patty hopefully. "The top of the rock is quite dry, as if it weren't covered at high tide. I believe we shall be safe, only we may have to stop here for a very long while."

"Let us call for help," suggested Muriel.

Both girls shouted at the pitch of their voices again and again, but there was no response, except from the sea birds which they disturbed on the adjacent cliffs.