ly she doesn't like to eat
her own words. My plan is that we get up a deputation, go to the study,
and beg her to let Dorothy off for rehearsals. She knows what a point we
make of the play."

"Splendiferous! I verily believe we shall succeed. Shall we go at
eleven?"

"No; we must talk to the others first, and get up as big a deputation as
we can. The more of us who ask, the better."

The weather, which beforetimes had never troubled Dorothy overmuch, was
at present a subject of the most vital importance to her. If it were
fine, she might go into the playground at one o'clock; but if it were
wet, she was obliged to remain in durance vile in the classroom, while
most of the girls were amusing themselves in the gymnasium. On this
particular day it poured. Dorothy looked hopelessly out of the window to
see the gravelled stretch, where the girls often practised hockey,
turned into a swamp, and a river racing under the swings. With a groan
she resigned herself to the inevitable. The society of her five
fellow-victims was not particularly exhilarating, so she took a library
book from her desk and began to read. As a rule, those who were free to
do so left the schoolroom only too readily, but to-day Hope Lawson and
some of her chums lingered behind. They were in a silly mood, and began
drawing caricatures on the blackboard.

"Watch me do Professor Schenk," cried Hope, taking the chalk. "Here's
his bald head, and his double chin, and his funny little peaked beard.
Do you like it? Well, I'll draw you another. Miss Lawson's celebrated
lightning sketches! Who'll you have next?"

"Do Pittie," said Blanche.

"All right; give me the duster and I'll wipe out the Professor. Now
then, how's this? Here's her snubby nose, and her eyeglasses, and her
fashionable fuzz of hair. She's smirking no end! 'Don't I look nice?'
she's saying," and Hope drew a balloon issuing from the mouth of the
portrait, with the words "Don't I look nice?" written inside; then,
encouraged by the laughter of her friends, she added "G. A. Pitman,
otherwise Pittie", over the top.

Dorothy, who wished to read her story, had retired to the extreme back
of the room, and sat in a corner, but she nevertheless heard all that
was going on.

"Yes, Pittie fancies herself," continued Hope. "You should see what
costumes she comes out in for evening wear. I'm sure she's greater on
toilet hints than literature."

"How do you make that out?"

"Observation, my dear. If