y to pick up
some of her lost ground. Her old enemies, Latin and Chemistry, still
often baffled her, and her memory was only moderately retentive. She
could not honestly believe that so far as her work was concerned she was
any credit to the school. Games were another matter, however, and so
long as they did not seriously interfere with her preparation for the
matriculation, she meant to do her duty as captain. She arranged cricket
fixtures and tennis tournaments, and though she could not devote as much
of her own time as she would have liked to practice, she spurred on
others who had more leisure than herself. She certainly possessed a gift
for organization. There are some captains, splendid players themselves,
who can never train their deputies. As Napoleon's genius was supposed to
lie largely in his capacity for picking out able generals, so Winona
proved her ability by choosing helpers who were of real service to her.
With Audrey Redfern, Emily Cooper, and Bertha March to the fore, she
hoped that both cricket and tennis would prosper, and that the school
would score as successfully during the summer as it had done in the
hockey season.

On the first Saturday after the beginning of the term, Miss Beach
announced that she was going to spend the day with a friend who lived
five miles out of Seaton, and that if Winona had leisure to accompany
her she would be pleased to take her. No practices had been arranged for
that afternoon, so Winona felt free to accept the invitation. She had
been for several short runs in the car, but for no long expedition since
the memorable outing to Wickborough, so the prospect of a day in the
country was alluring.

They started at about eleven o'clock, and took a road that was new to
Winona, consequently all the more interesting. Their way led through
lovely woods, at present a sheet of blue hyacinths, the hedges were a
filmy dream of blackthorn blossom, while the swallows wheeling and
flashing in the sunshine testified to the return of summer.

Miss Carson, the lady whom they were going to visit, like most of Aunt
Harriet's friends was engaged in very interesting work. She had taken a
small holding, and with the help of a few women pupils was running it as
a fruit, flower and poultry farm. The house, an old cottage, to which
she had added a wing, was charmingly pretty. It was long and low, with a
thick thatched roof, and a porch overgrown with starry white clematis. A
budding vine cover