rub her the wrong way. She needn't think I'm
going to give up Winifrede! I wish she'd be more sensible. Well, I don't
care; I shall just take no notice and leave her to herself, and then
she'll probably come round."

Marjorie's surmises proved correct, for Chrissie placed a dainty little
bottle of scent and an enthusiastic note on her dressing-table that
evening, the clouds blew over, and for a time, at any rate, matters were
quite pleasant again. Constant little quarrels, however, wear holes in a
friendship, and it was evident to St. Elgiva's that some cleavage had
taken place.

"Chrissie and Marjorie seem a little off with the David and Jonathan
business," commented Francie.

"Too hot to last, I fancy," returned Patricia. "Marjorie's got a new
idol now."

One reason for the separation between the two girls was that, while
Chrissie cared chiefly for tennis, Marjorie was a devotee of cricket,
and was spending most of her spare time under the coaching of Stella
Pearson, the games captain. She showed much promise in bowling, and was
not without hopes of being put into her house eleven. To play for St.
Elgiva's was an honour worth working for. It would be a great triumph to
be able to write the news to her brothers.

Dona had not taken violently either to cricket or tennis, and beyond the
compulsory practice never touched bat or ball, giving herself up
entirely to Natural History study and Photography. She was not so
energetic as her sister, and did not much care for running about. At
half term, however, a new interest claimed her. The head gardener was
taken ill, and Sister Johnstone assumed the responsibility for his work.
She asked for helpers, and a number of girls volunteered their services,
and occupied themselves busily about the grounds. They rolled and marked
the tennis-courts, earthed up potatoes, put sticks for the peas, planted
out cabbages, and weeded the drive.

It was the kind of work that appealed to Dona, and her satisfaction was
complete when Mrs. Morrison excused her cricket practices for the
purpose.

"I like gardening much better than games," she confided to Marjorie.
"There's more to show for it. What have you got at the end of a whole
term's cricket, I should like to know?"

"Honour, my child!" said Marjorie.

"Well, I shall have six rows of cauliflowers, and that's more to the
point, especially in these hard times," twinkled Dona. "I consider it's
I who am the patriotic one now. You're