at _he_ was sorry he had planted her
out, but he really hadn't thought she was such a little idiot, and he
_was_ sorry--so there! This touched Lucy's heart, and she felt more than
ever that she had not laid out her tuppence to the best advantage. She
tried to warn Harry of what was to happen in the morning, but he only
said, 'Don't yarn; Billson Minor's coming for cricket. You can field if
you like.' Lucy didn't like, but it seemed the only thing she could do
to show that she accepted in a proper spirit her brother's apology about
the planting out. So she fielded gloomily and ineffectively.

Next morning Harry got up in good time, folded up his nightshirt, and
made his room so tidy that the housemaid nearly had a surprise-fit when
she went in. He crept downstairs like a mouse, and learned his lessons
before breakfast. Lucy, on the other hand, got up so late that it was
only by dressing hastily that she had time to prepare a thoroughly good
booby-trap before she slid down the banisters just as the breakfast-bell
rang. She was first in the room, so she was able to put a little salt in
all the tea-cups before anyone else came in. Fresh tea was made, and
Harry was blamed. Lucy said, 'I did it,' but no one believed her. They
said she was a noble, unselfish sister to try and shield her naughty
brother, and Harry burst into floods of tears when she kicked him under
the table; she hated herself for doing this, but somehow it seemed
impossible to do anything else.

Harry cried nearly all the way to school, while Lucy insisted on sliding
along all the gutters and dragging Harry after her. She bought a
catapult at the toy-shop and a pennyworth of tintacks at the oil-shop,
both on credit, and as Lucy had never asked for credit before, she got
it.

At the top of Blackheath Village they separated--Harry went back to his
school, which is at the other side of the station, and Lucy went on to
the High School.

The Blackheath High School has a large and beautiful hall, with a
staircase leading down into it like a staircase in a picture, and at the
other end of the hall is a big statue of a beautiful lady. The High
School mistresses call her Venus, but I don't really believe that is her
name.

Lucy--good, gentle, little Lucy, beloved by her form mistress and
respected by all the school--sat on those steps--I don't know why no
one caught her--and used her catapult to throw ink pellets (you know
what they are, of course) with her cata