ould
be an event to be remembered for ever in their young lives, when
sterner lessons might be forgotten; at which remark Miss Gibbs
sniffed, but restrained herself. Miss Beasley vibrated for some
minutes between the practical and the ideal aspects thus presented to
her, but finally decided in favour of the latter.

"It seems ungracious to refuse when they wish it to be my birthday
treat," she said rather apologetically. "The poor children would be so
disappointed. We might make a clear mark-book a necessary condition."

"Yes," Miss Gibbs grudgingly conceded. "They'll miss their Latin
preparation that evening," she added.

"And their French," sighed Mademoiselle. "But what will you?" with a
little shrug. "It is not every day that our Principal makes a
birthday! As for me, I am glad I bought my new sunshade."

The announcement of the forthcoming water excursion was received with
great rejoicings. Ever since the beginning of the term the school had
thirsted to go upon the river. They had been taken for an occasional
walk along its banks, and had greatly envied the young men and maidens
who might be seen punting up its willowy reaches.

"That's what I'm going to do directly I'm grown up!" Fauvette had
confided to her chums. "I'll buy a white boating costume, exactly like
that girl's with the auburn hair, and lean against blue cushions while
HE rows. He'll have to have brown eyes, but I've not quite decided
yet whether he shall have a moustache or not. On the whole I think
I'll have him clean shaven."

"And tall," prompted Raymonde, to whom Fauvette's prospective romances
were a source of perennial interest.

"Yes, tall, of course, with several military crosses. He's the one I'm
going to like the best, though there'll be others. They'll all want me
to go and row with them--but I shan't. I don't mean to flirt."

"N--no!" conceded Raymonde a little dubiously. "Don't you think,
though, it might be rather good for him not to let him see you were
too keen? Of course I don't want you to break his heart, but----"

Fauvette shook her yellow curls.

"It's not right to trifle with people's hearts," she decided, with all
the authority of an experienced reader of magazine stories. "If you
pretend you don't care for them, they drive their aeroplanes
recklessly and smash up, or expose themselves to the enemy's fire, or
get submarined, before you've had time to tell them you didn't really
mean to be cold. I'm not going in for