oesn't think much of our intellects!"

"Well, we don't think much of him, anyway!"

"I believe he uses pomatum on his hair," confided Fauvette in a
shocked whisper.

"My dear, I believe it's bear's grease!" corrected Morvyth
scornfully.

"This is the most painful week I've ever had to go through in all my
life," bleated Aveline. "Even if I live through it--and that's
doubtful--I shall be a nervous wreck. They'll have to send me for a
rest cure during the holidays. I'm not accustomed to be
cross-questioned as if I were a criminal in the dock!"

"It's a witness, child, you mean," amended Raymonde. "Criminals don't
generally give evidence against themselves. But we understand you, all
the same! For two pins I'd sham utter ignorance, and give him some
very surprising answers. Yes, I would, if Gibbie or the Bumble didn't
stick in the room the whole time! That's the worst of it. They'd know
in a second that I was only having him on."

As the week progressed, the school considered itself more and more
ill-used. The fact was that the Reverend T. W. Beasley was accustomed
to university students, and could not focus his mind to the
intellectual range of girls of thirteen to seventeen. Moreover, he was
by nature a reformer. He liked to give others the benefit of his
advice, and he had much to say in private to his sister upon the
subject of her pupils' lessons and general management. Perhaps poor
Miss Beasley had not expected quite so much criticism. She was
accustomed, nevertheless, to defer to her brother's opinions, and she
listened with due humility, though with much inward perturbation,
while he laid down the law upon the education of women. Miss Gibbs,
who was a born fighter, was inclined to argue--a disastrous policy,
which so nearly ended in what are generally termed "words," that her
Principal was obliged to ask her (privately) to allow the visitor to
state his views uninterrupted.

The school was so taken up with the stern business on hand, that such
delights as coon concerts and theatricals were quite in the
background. On Thursday afternoon, however, Veronica sought out
Raymonde.

"I want your money for the Blinded Soldiers' Fund," she said. "I've
given in ours, and so have the juniors. Miss Beasley says when she has
it all she'll write a cheque for the amount, and send it to the
secretary."

"But Miss Beasley has our money already," objected Raymonde. "Don't
you remember? She said she wanted some change,