d where
we used to play games. It had orange trees and oleanders in big green
tubs, but no grass nor flowers. You couldn't possibly have called it a
garden. We hardly ever went out for proper walks. Sometimes we were
taken to the park, but even there we had to go very primly, two and two,
with the teachers looking after us most sharply."

"Were the teachers nice?"

"Yes, pretty well. I liked them better than the girls, at any rate.
There were two sisters in my class, called Marie and Sophie Beauvais,
who were always making fun of me because I was English. I had a horrid
time until a German girl came to the school, and then they teased her
instead of me. The best thing of all was the coffee. It was perfectly
delicious--nicer than any I've ever tasted in England."

"Why didn't you stay in Brussels?"

"I was ill, and my mother had to come and fetch me. She declared she
would never let me go so far away from home again; so she sent me to
Winterburn Lodge instead. Miss Russell is very kind if one's not well,
and Mother said she would rather have me properly looked after, even if
I didn't learn French."

"Yes, Miss Russell does take care of us," said Irene. "I used to be at
another school, and the teachers never noticed if we had headaches, or
couldn't eat our meals. We had to work most fearfully hard for exams,
too. The headmistress made a point of getting a certain number of passes
each year, and one was obliged to prepare and go in whether one was
clever or not. Give me good old Winterburn Lodge!--especially when one's
at the Manor instead. By the by, there's Monica. She's surely not come
to play tennis? It's too hot."

"Fifteen degrees too hot," agreed Monica, throwing herself down on the
grass beside the others and fanning herself with her hat. "Out on the
road the heat's at simmering-point. I came to bring a message to Miss
Russell, and I hear she's gone to Linforth and won't be back until
half-past four. I think I shall wait for her."

"Oh, do!" cried the others. "We'll have a 'palaver' here under the
trees."

"What's a 'palaver', please? I hope it's something cool and fizzy to
drink."

"No, it's nothing of the sort. It's a kind of meeting, where everybody
has to tell a story in turn."

"But I'm rigidly truthful!" objected Monica, with a twinkle in her eye.

"You naughty girl! You know we don't mean telling falsehoods. It's
telling tales," said Irene.

"I'm no tell-tale either!"

"Don't be too funny.