vening was to be dramatic. A good many names had
been given in for the Charades competition, and these were arranged in
groups of four. Each company was given one syllable of a charade to act,
with a strict time limit. A large assortment of clothes and some useful
articles of furniture were placed in the dressing-room behind the
platform, and the actresses were allowed only two minutes to arrange
their stage, don costumes, and discuss their piece.

Marjorie found herself drawn with Annie Turner, Belle Miller, and Violet
Nelson, two of the Juniors. The syllable to be acted was "Age", and the
four girls withdrew to the dressing-room for a hasty conference.

"What can we do? I haven't an idea in my head," sighed Annie. "Two
minutes is not enough to think."

The Juniors said nothing, but giggled nervously. Marjorie's ready wits,
however, rose to the emergency.

"We'll have a Red Cross Hospital," she decided. "You, Annie, are the
Commandant, and we three are prospective V.A.D.'s coming to be
interviewed. You've got to ask us our names and ages, and a heap of
other questions. Put on that Red Cross apron, quick, and we'll put on
hats and coats and pretend we've had a long journey. Belle, take in a
table and a chair for the Commandant. She ought to be sitting writing."

Annie, Belle, and Violet seized on the idea with enthusiasm, and robed
themselves immediately. When the bell rang the performers marched on to
the platform without any delay (which secured ten marks for
promptitude). Annie, in her Red Cross apron, rapped the table in an
authoritative fashion and demanded the business of her callers. Then the
fun began. Marjorie, posing as a wild Irish girl, put on a capital
imitation of the brogue, and urged her own merits with zeal. She evaded
the question of her right age, and offered a whole catalogue of things
she could do, from dressing a wound to mixing a pudding and scrubbing
the passages. She was so racy and humorous, and threw in such amusing
asides, that the audience shrieked with laughter, and were quite
disappointed when the five minutes' bell put a sudden and speedy end to
the interesting performance. As Marjorie walked back to her seat she
became well aware that she had scored. Her fellow Intermediates looked
at her with a new interest, for she had brought credit to St. Elgiva's.

"Isn't she a scream?" she overheard Rose Butler say to Francie Sheppard,
and Francie replied "Rather! I call her topping!" which, o