r us. We must
have a cake, and some candles, and some cocoa, and some condensed milk,
and anything else they can smuggle. Are you game?"

"Rather! If you'll undertake to be general of the commissariat
department."

"All serene! Don't say a word about it to anyone else at St. Elgiva's.
I'll swear Dona to secrecy, and the St. Ethelberta kids aren't likely to
tell. They do the same themselves sometimes. And don't on any account
let Renie have wind of it. It's to be a surprise."

On Wednesday evening, before supper, Marjorie met Dona by special
appointment in the gymnasium, and the latter hastily thrust a parcel
into her arms.

"You wouldn't believe what difficulty I had to get it," she whispered.
"Mona and Peachy weren't at all willing. They said they didn't see why
they should take risks for St. Elgiva's, and you might run your own
beano. I had to bribe them with ever so many of my best crests before I
could make them promise. They say Miss Jones has got suspicious now
about bulgy coats, and actually feels them. They have to sling bags
under their skirts and it's so uncomfy walking home. However, they did
their best for you. There's a cake, and three boxes of Christmas-tree
candles, and a tin of condensed milk. They couldn't get the cocoa,
because just as they were going to buy it Miss Jones came up.
Everything's dearer, and you didn't give them enough. Mona paid, and you
owe her fivepence halfpenny extra."

"I'll give it you to-morrow at lunch-time. Thank them both most awfully.
I think they're regular trumps. I'll give them some of my crests if they
like--I'm not really collecting and don't want them. Think of us about
midnight if you happen to wake. I wish you could join us."

"So do I. But that's quite out of the question. Never mind; we have bits
of fun ourselves sometimes."

Marjorie managed to convey her parcel unnoticed to No. 9 Dormitory.
According to arrangement, Betty and Sylvia were waiting there for her.
Irene, still oblivious of the treat in store for her, had not yet come
upstairs. The three confederates undid their package, and gloated over
its contents. The cake was quite a respectable one for war-time, to
judge from appearances it had cherries in it, and there was a piece of
candied peel on the top. The little boxes of Christmas-tree candles held
half a dozen apiece, assorted colours. They took sixteen of them,
sharpened the ends, and stuck them down into the cake.

"When it's lighted it will l