been the happiest year of my life! The country may
be quiet, but it has its compensation. We'll walk to the Whistling
Stones again, Ingred, as soon as you break up!"

"And that will be exactly a week next Friday!" rejoiced Ingred.

The school was busy with all the usual activities that seem to happen at
the end of the summer term. There was a successful cricket match with
the Girls' High School from Birkshaw, a tennis tournament where Nora and
Susie took part after all, and won laurels for the College, a Nature
Notebook Competition in which Linda, to every one's amazement, bore off
the first prize against all other schools in the town.

Then there was the annual function, when parents were invited to see a
display of Swedish Drill, listen to three-part songs given by the
singing class, admire the drawings and clay models exhibited in the
studio, and watch a French play acted by the Sixth. It was at the close
of this performance that (when friends had taken their departure, and
Dr. Linton, who had conducted the singing class, had closed the grand
piano and had hurried across to the Abbey to keep an appointment with an
organ pupil) a certain piece of news leaked out, and began to circulate
round the school. Verity had the proud importance of carrying it into
the hostel.

"Do you know," she announced, "that Miss Strong is engaged to Dr.
Linton, and they're to be married in the holidays?"

Nora, who was changing a crepe de chine dress for a serviceable tennis
costume, collapsed on to her bed.

"Hold me up!" she murmured dramatically. "Why, I didn't know he was a
widower!"

"Of course he is," endorsed Ingred, "and a most uncomfortable one, I
should say. I went to his house once for a music lesson, and it looked
in a fearful muddle. Good old Bantam! We must give her congrats! She'll
soon get things into order there! I believe she adores little Kenneth.
I've often seen her taking him about the town. She shall have my
blessing, by all means!"

"We might give her something more substantial than congrats and
blessings!" suggested Verity. "I vote we get up a subscription in the
form for a decent wedding present!"

"Oh yes! Think of Sarkie as Mrs. Linton! They'll be the oddest couple! I
wonder if she'll get tired of perpetual music, and if he'll rage round
his own drawing-room and ruffle his hair when he feels annoyed, like he
does with his pupils!"

"Perhaps she'll break him off bad habits! I could trust her to hold he