been considered proficient enough to take an active
part in the monthly entertainment, but Flossie's name was one of the
first on the list. She played the violin remarkably well, better than
almost anybody else at Chessington; and as she was seldom nervous, her
pieces were generally very successful. The day following Evelyn
Fletcher's fright happened to be "Mutual Improvement Friday". The girls
only spent a short time at preparation, and then went upstairs to
change their dresses. The meetings were always held in the
drawing-room, and were rather festive in character. Miss Maitland tried
to make them as much as possible like ordinary parties; she received
the girls as guests, encouraged them to converse with herself and the
other teachers, and had coffee served to them during the evening.

On this particular occasion Flossie made a very careful toilet, and she
certainly looked nice in her pretty, embroidered white muslin dress,
her fair hair tied with big bows of palest blue ribbon. She took a last
glance at herself in the looking-glass, then, seizing her violin, which
she had brought to her cubicle, she prepared to go downstairs.

In passing Miss Maitland's bedroom on the lower landing, she noticed
that the door stood open, and that no one was within. There was a large
mirror in the wardrobe, and, catching a glimpse of her own reflection
as she went by, she stopped suddenly, and could not resist the
temptation to run in for a moment and take a full-length view of
herself as she would appear when she was playing her piece. She raised
her violin and struck a suitable attitude, and was immensely pleased
with the result that faced her--the dainty dress, the blue bows, the
coral cheeks, flaxen hair, and bright eyes all made a charming picture,
and the position in which she held her instrument was particularly
graceful. She drew her bow gently over the strings, to observe the
curve of her slender wrist and well-shaped arm. It was gratifying to
know that she would make such a good appearance before her
schoolfellows. Once again she played a few notes, for the sheer
satisfaction of watching her slim, white fingers in the glass.

Alas for Flossie! That single bar of Schubert's Serenade was her
undoing. Honor chanced to be passing the door at the identical moment,
and, hearing the strain of music, peeped inside. She grasped the
situation at a glance.

"Oho, Miss Flossie! So I've caught you prinking!" she said to herself.
"Yo