et to work on
Veronica. She did not respond to their efforts; on the contrary, she
seemed to resent them. When they attempted to introduce lighter veins
of conversation, she reproached them with being frivolous. She frowned
on riddles, limericks, and puns. One day she so far forgot herself as
to murmur "Cheeky kids!"

Raymonde, with a shocked and grieved expression, looked at the
illuminated card deprecating the use of slang, which had lately been
hung in the lecture hall, and Veronica flounced out of the room.

That night, when the monitress went to bed, her sponge, nail-brush,
tooth-brush, and cake of soap were missing, and it was only after a
long search that she found them at the bottom of her emptied
water-jug. On the next evening it was impossible for her to strike a
light, owing to the fact that both her candle and matches had been
carefully soaked beforehand in water.

Veronica felt it was high time to lay the matter before her
fellow-monitresses. They decided that such flagrant cases of
insubordination must be promptly dealt with. In order to catch the
offenders they laid a trap, Linda and Daphne concealing themselves in
Veronica's bedroom, while Veronica herself walked ostentatiously in
the courtyard.

As they had expected, it was not long before two stealthy figures came
tiptoeing in, and were taken red-handed in the very act of
constructing an apple-pie bed. The vials of wrath which descended upon
the would-be practical jokers were enough to damp the spirits of even
such madcaps as Raymonde and Aveline. After all, monitresses are
monitresses, and to affront them is rather like twisting a lion's
tail. Miss Gibbs herself could not have been more scathing in her
sarcasms than Linda. For once the Mystics retired crushed, and with a
due respect for their seniors.

It was not in the nature of things, however, for Raymonde's spirits to
remain long below zero. After a decent period of immersion they once
more rose to the surface. The occasion of their revival was sufficient
to awaken enthusiasm in the most down-trodden and monitress-ridden of
school-girls.

A report was rumoured through the Grange; nobody seemed to know quite
where it started, or what was the fount of information, but everybody
said it was perfectly true, and girl whispered to girl the astounding
secret.

"The Bumble and the Wasp are going out to dinner on Thursday, and are
to stay the night, only we're not supposed to get a hint of it, so