d by
a companion; most of the rest wore bandages either on their arms or
heads. Marjorie looked at them attentively, hoping to recognize some of
the patients she had seen at the Christmas-tree entertainment, but these
were all strangers, and she reflected that the other set must have been
passed on by now to convalescent homes. She was walking at the end of
the line, and Miss Duckworth did not happen to be looking. A sudden
spirit of mischief seized her, and hastily stooping and catching up a
handful of snow, she kneaded it quickly, and threw it at Mollie Simpson
to attract her attention. It was done on the spur of the moment, in
sheer fun. But, alas for Marjorie! her aim was not true, and instead of
hitting Mollie her missile struck one of the soldiers. He chuckled with
delight, and promptly responded. In a moment his companions were
kneading snowballs and pelting the school. Now wounded Tommies are
regarded as very privileged persons, and the girls, instantly catching
the spirit of the encounter, broke line and began to throw back
snowballs.

"Girls, girls!" cried Miss Duckworth's shocked and agitated voice; "come
along at once! Don't look at those soldiers. Attention! Form line
immediately! Quick march!"

Rather flushed and flurried, her flock controlled themselves, conscious
that they had overstepped the mark, and under the keen eye of their
mistress, who now brought up the rear instead of leading, they filed off
in their former crocodile. Every one of the sixteen knew that there was
trouble in store for her. They discussed it uneasily on the way home.
Nor were they mistaken. At tea-time Miss Rogers, after ringing the
silence bell, announced that those girls who had been to Whitecliffe
that afternoon must report themselves in Mrs. Morrison's study at 5.15.

It is one thing to indulge in a moment's fun, and quite another to pay
the price afterwards. Sixteen very rueful faces were assembled in the
passage outside the study by 5.15. Nobody would have had the courage to
knock, but the Principal herself opened the door, and bade them enter.
They filed in like a row of prisoners. Mrs. Morrison marshalled them
into a double line opposite her desk, then, standing so as to command
the eyes of all, she opened the vials of her wrath. She reproached them
for unladylike conduct, loss of dignity, and lack of discipline.

"Where are the traditions of Brackenfield," she asked, "if you can so
far forget yourselves as to descend