ss as a Principal was due to the fact that she was
always ready to listen to any reasonable demands. Hers was no red-tape
rule, but a system based on sensible methods. She smiled as Marjorie
rather bashfully uttered her request.

"Fifteen other girls have asked me the same thing," she replied. "You
may all go into Whitecliffe this afternoon with Miss Duckworth, and see
what you can find at the Stores."

Rejoicing in this little expedition, the favoured sixteen set off at two
o'clock, escorted by the mistress. There had been great drifts on the
high road, and the snow was dug out and piled on either side in
glistening heaps. The white cliffs and hills and the grey sky and sea
gave an unusual aspect to the landscape. A flock of sea-gulls whirled
round on the beach, but of other birds there were very few. Even the
clumps of seaweed on the shore looked frozen. Nature was at her
dreariest, and anyone who had seen the place in the summer glory of
heather, bracken, and blue sea could hardly have believed it to be the
same. The promenade was deserted, the pier shut up, and those people
whose business took them into the streets hurried along as if they were
anxious to get home again.

The girls found it was not such an easy matter as they had imagined to
procure sixteen hot-water bags. Owing to the war, rubber was scarce, and
customers had already made many demands upon the supply. The Stores
could only produce nine bags.

"I have some on order, and expect them in any day," said the assistant.
"Shall I send some out for you when they come?"

Knowing by experience that goods thus ordered might take weeks to
arrive, the girls declined, and set out to visit the various chemists'
shops in the town, with the result that by buying a few at each, they in
the end made up their numbers. The sizes and prices of the bags varied
considerably, but the girls were so glad to get any at all, that they
would have cheerfully paid double if it had been necessary.

Feeling thoroughly satisfied with their shopping expedition, they turned
their steps again towards Brackenfield, up the steep path past the
church, over the bridge that spanned the railway, and along the cliff
walk that led from the town on to the moor. As they passed the end of
the bare beech avenue, they met a party of wounded soldiers from the Red
Cross Hospital, in the blue convalescent uniform of His Majesty's
forces. One limped on crutches, and one was in a Bath chair, wheele