spose of a certain quantity on condition that they could
be fetched. Here was news indeed! The potatoes were there, and only
needed to be carried away. The Principal at once organized parties of
girls to go with baskets to the farm. Instead of sending Seniors,
Intermediates, and Juniors separately, Mrs. Morrison ordered
representatives from the three hostels to form each detachment. She
considered that lately the elder girls had been keeping too much aloof
from the younger ones, and that the spirit of unity in the school might
suffer in consequence. The expedition would be an excellent opportunity
for meeting together, and she gave a hint to the prefects that she had
noticed and deprecated their tendency to exclusiveness.

As a direct result of her suggestions, Marjorie one afternoon found
herself walking to the farm in the select company of Winifrede Mason. It
was such an overwhelming honour to be thus favoured by the head girl
that Marjorie's powers of conversation were at first rather damped, and
she replied in monosyllables to Winifrede's remarks; but the latter, who
was determined (as she had informed her fellow prefects) to "do her duty
by those Intermediates", persevered in her attempts to be pleasant,
till Marjorie, who was naturally talkative, thawed at length and found
her tongue.

There was no doubt that Winifrede, when she stepped down from her
pedestal, was a most winning companion. She had a charming, humorous,
racy, whimsical way of commenting on things, and a whole fund of amusing
stories. Marjorie, astonished and fascinated, responded eagerly to her
advances, and by the time they reached the farm had formed quite a
different estimation of the head girl. The walk in itself was
delightful. Their way lay along a road that led over the moors. On
either side stretched an expanse of gorse and whinberry bushes,
interspersed with patches of grass, where sheep were feeding. Dykes
filled with water edged the road, and in these were growing rushes, and
sedges, and crowfoot, and a few forget-me-nots and other water-loving
flowers. Larks were singing gloriously overhead, and the plovers flitted
about with their plaintive "pee-wit, pee-wit". Sometimes a stonechat or
a wheatear would pause for a moment on a gorse stump, flirting its brown
tail before it flew out of sight, or young rabbits would peep from the
whinberry bushes and whisk away into cover. Far off in the distance lay
the hazy outline of the sea. There was