lady of great
personal attractions might be a coveted distinction to other schoolboys,
but it simply gave Mr. Bultitude cold thrills.

"I suppose _that's_ 'Connie Davenant,'" he thought, shocked beyond
measure as she caught his eye and coughed demurely for about the fourth
time. "A very forward young person! I think somebody ought to speak
seriously to her father."

"Good gracious! she's writing something on the flyleaf of her
prayer-book," he said to himself presently. "I hope she's not going to
send it to _me_. I won't take it. She ought to be ashamed of herself!"

Miss Davenant was indeed busily engaged in pencilling something on a
blank sheet of paper; and, having finished, she folded it deftly into a
cocked-hat, wrote a few words on the outside, and placed it between the
leaves of her book.

Then, as the congregation rose for the Psalms, she gave a meaning glance
at the blushing and scandalised Mr. Bultitude and by dexterous
management of her prayer-book shot the little cocked-hat, as if
unconsciously, into the next pew.

By a very unfortunate miscalculation, however, the note missed its
proper object, and, clearing the partition, fluttered deliberately down
on the floor by Dulcie's feet.

Paul saw this with alarm; he knew that at all hazards he must get that
miserable note into his own possession and destroy it. It might have his
name somewhere about it; it might seriously compromise him.

So he took advantage of the noise the congregation made in repeating a
verse aloud (it was not a high church) to whisper to Dulcie: "Little
Miss Grimstone, excuse me, but there's a--a note in the pew down by your
feet. I believe it's intended for me."

Dulcie had seen the whole affair and had been not a little puzzled by
it, a clandestine correspondence being a new thing in her short
experience; but she understood that in this golden-haired girl, her
elder by several years, she saw her rival, for whom Dick had so basely
abandoned her yesterday, and she was old enough to feel the slight and
the sweetness of revenge.

So she held her head rather higher than usual, with her firm little chin
projecting wilfully, and waited for the next verse but one before
retorting, "Little Master Bultitude, I know it is."

"Could you--can you manage to reach it?" whispered Paul entreatingly.

"Yes," said Dulcie, "I could."

"Then will you--when they sit down?"

"No," said Dulcie firmly, "I shan't."

The other girl, she noticed wi