ree illustrations had to be provided, and that within the space of
about half an hour. Ulyth was fairly clever at drawing, but she was not
capable of producing the pictures out of her head. She must obtain a
copy, and that quickly.

"Helen Cooper's librarian this month," she thought. "I wonder if she's
finished checking the catalogue yet? I saw her walking down the stream
five minutes ago with Mabel Hoyle. Why shouldn't I have the _American
Gems_ for half an hour? It wouldn't do any harm. It really is the merest
red tape that we mayn't use the books. I shall just take French leave
and borrow it."

Ulyth went at once to the library. Helen had evidently been at work
there, for the list lay open, with a sheet of paper near, recording the
condition of some of the copies. A glue-pot and some rolls of
transparent gummed edging showed that Helen had been busy mending
battered covers and torn pages. She probably meant to finish them after
tea. The book of American gems was in its usual place on the shelf. The
temptation was irresistible. Ulyth did not notice, as she was taking it
down, that someone with a smooth head of sleek fair hair was peeping
round the corner of the door, and that a pair of not too friendly blue
eyes were watching the deed. If flying footsteps whisked along the
corridor and out into the garden, she was blissfully unconscious of the
fact. She took the volume to her own form-room and settled herself at
her desk with her drawing materials, cardboard, pencil, india-rubber,
fine pen, and a bottle of Indian ink. The little figures were exactly
what she wanted, quite simple in outline, but most effective, and not at
all difficult. They would certainly improve Lizzie's calendar for the
week, and relieve the sombre character of the Dryden quotations. She
worked away very rapidly, sketching them lightly in pencil, intending to
finish them in ink afterwards. She grew quite interested, especially
when she reached the pen part. That little face with its laughing mouth
and aureole of hair was really very pretty; she had copied it without
having to use the india-rubber once.

"Ulyth Stanton, what are you doing with that book?" said a voice from
behind her desk.

Beside her stood Helen Cooper and Stephanie Radford, the former hugely
indignant, the latter with a non-committal expression. Ulyth started so
violently that the bottle of Indian ink overturned and spread itself out
in three streams.

"Oh Jemima!" shrieked