, and considered that with a little more promptitude she
might have succeeded.

"Did you tell him about our society?" asked Betty.

"No, of course not."

"Well, I didn't mean betraying the secret, exactly, only I think you
might have mentioned that there are several of us who want to do things
for the soldiers. And there was a beautiful snapshot that Patricia took
of us all--you might have put that in."

"But I hadn't got it with me."

"You needn't have been in such a hurry to send off the letter. You could
have waited till you'd seen us."

"How could I post it from school? It was by sheer luck I slipped it into
the pillar-box at Whitecliffe. I got my chance to write that letter, and
I had to take it at once or leave it."

"Perhaps our turns may come another time," suggested Patricia
consolingly.

Though it was Marjorie who had done the actual writing, the whole of the
S.S.O.P. felt responsible for the letter, and considered that they had
adopted the lonely soldier. In imagination they pictured Private
Hargreaves sitting disconsolately in a dug-out, gazing with wistful eyes
while his comrades read and re-read their home letters, then an orderly
entering and presenting him with Marjorie's document, his incredulity,
surprise, and delight at finding it actually addressed to himself, and
the eagerness with which he would tear open the envelope. Opinions
differed as to what would happen when he had read it. Sylvia inclined to
think that tears would steal down his rugged cheek. Betty was certain
that, however bad he might have been formerly, he would at once turn
over a new leaf and begin to reform. Patricia suggested that he would
write on the envelope that he wished it to be buried with him. Schemes
for sending him pressed violets, poems, and photographs floated on the
horizon of the society. He should not feel lonely any more if the
S.S.O.P. could help it. They decided that each would contribute
twopence a week towards buying him cigarettes. They went about the
school quite jauntily in the consciousness of their secret. The rival
secret society, noticing their elation, openly jeered, but that no doubt
was envy.

A fortnight passed by, and the girls were beginning to forget about it a
little. The snow had melted, and hockey practice was uppermost in their
minds, for the match between St. Githa's and St. Elgiva's would soon be
due, and they were anxious for the credit of their own hostel. Just at
present the play