d to look after you; you're not fit to take care of yourself,"
she decided. "Look here, how much wants doing to your clothes before
the Mosquito comes buzzing round to inspect?"

"Shoals!" sighed Fauvette wearily. "I'm afraid I've left my mending.
There are stockings, and gloves, and--all kinds of things."

"Can you get it done in time?"

"Impossible!" and the tears dripped again on to a dainty muslin
collar.

"Then there's nothing for it but to get up a Mending Bee, and help
you! We seven are sworn to stick together."

"There'll be squalls if you're caught in the dormitory during
recreation. I was told to stay here," cautioned Fauvette.

"We've got to risk something," returned Raymonde cheerily, scurrying
off in search of the remaining five of the Mystics.

"You've all got to fetch work-baskets and come this instant," she
commanded. "It's an urgency call, like last term when we made T
bandages for Roumania, and nose-bags for the horses, only it's even
more important and urgent."

Armed with their sewing materials, the girls slipped one by one
upstairs, and, settling themselves upon the beds in the immediate
vicinity of Fauvette's, set to work. It was a formidable task. Their
comrade had brought a large assortment of garments to school with
her, and had happily left them unmended, trusting to take them home to
be repaired. At present they were mixed in a hopeless jumble on the
floor and on her bed, just where Mademoiselle had tipped out the
drawers. Stockings, underclothes, gloves, handkerchiefs, photos, old
letters, ribbons, ties, beads, lockets, books, and an assortment of
odd treasures were lying together in utter confusion.

Fauvette brightened at the sight of her friends, mopped her eyes, and
pushed back her fluffy hair from her hot forehead.

"Brace up!" Raymonde encouraged her. "We're not going to help unless
you'll do your own share. Sort those things out, and be putting them
in your drawers while we do your mending. Morvyth, take these
stockings; Katherine, you're artistic, so I'll give you baby ribbon to
thread through these bodices. Ardiune, you may mend gloves. Ave,
collect those hair ribbons, and put them neatly inside that box, and
stack those photos together. Why they're not in an album I can't
imagine!"

"Because I generally sleep with one or two of them under my pillow,"
confessed Fauvette. "Why shouldn't I, if I like? There's no harm in
it. Oh! please be careful with those beads, you'll b