en of war-time
cookery.

"I wish we could have got some cocoa," sighed Betty. "I tried to borrow
a little and a spirit lamp from Meg Hutchinson, but she says they can't
get any methylated spirit now."

"Condensed milk is delicious by itself," suggested Sylvia.

"Sorry we haven't a spoon," apologized Marjorie.

For lack of other means of getting at their sweet delicacy the girls
dipped lead-pencils into the condensed milk and took what they could.

"It's rather like white honey," decided Betty after a critical taste.
"Yes--I certainly think it's quite topping. It makes me think of Russian
toffee."

"Don't speak of toffee. We haven't made any since sugar went short.
Jemima! I shall eat heaps when the war's over!"

"You greedy pig! You ought to leave it for the soldiers."

"But there won't be any soldiers then."

"Yes, there'll be some for years and years afterwards. They'll take some
time, you know, to get well in the hospitals."

"Then there's a chance for me to nurse," exclaimed Marjorie. "I'm always
so afraid the war will all be over before I've left school, and----"

"I say, what's that noise?" interrupted Irene anxiously. "If the Acid
Drop drops on us she'll be very acid indeed."

For reply, Marjorie popped the condensed milk tin into her wardrobe,
blew out the candle, and hopped into bed post-haste, an example which
was followed by the others with equal dispatch. They were only just in
time, for a moment later the door opened, and Miss Norton, clad in a
blue dressing-gown, flashed her torchlight into the room. Seeing the
girls all in bed, and apparently fast asleep, she did not enter, but
closed the door softly, and they heard her footsteps walking away down
the corridor.

"A near shave!" murmured Marjorie.

"Sh! sh! Don't let's talk. She may come back and listen outside,"
whispered Sylvia, with a keen distrust for Miss Norton's notions of
vigilance.

Next morning the girls in No. 8 Dormitory mentioned that they had heard
a noise during the night.

"Somebody walked down the passage," proclaimed Lennie Jackson. "Enid
thought it was a ghost."

"I thought it was somebody walking in her sleep," maintained Daisy Shaw.

"Oh, how horrid!" shivered Barbara Wright. "I'd be scared to death of
anyone sleep-walking. I'd rather meet a ghost any day."

"Did you see somebody?" enquired Betty casually.

"No, it was only what we heard--stealthy footsteps, you know, that moved
softly along, just as they're d