"We had sago on
Wednesday. No--it'll be boiled suet roll, you just see if it isn't.
Louie darling,"--to the maid who was handing her vegetables at the
moment,--"what's for pudding to-day? Do tell us, there's an angel! Is
it sago or rice or boiled suet roll? Tell us the worst at once and
let's get it over."

"None of them, miss; it's treacle tart to-day," replied the maid, with
a grin. Jack was as thoroughly popular with the maids as she was with
everybody else at Wakehurst, and the little shriek of joy which the
girl emitted at her announcement made Louie determined to see that the
school favourite received a good-sized share of the popular sweet.

"Hurrah! Now I can even manage to eat a little boiled mutton," said
Jack. And setting to work she tackled her viands with an appetite
which drew forth a sardonic remark from Nita.

"For a person who doesn't like boiled mutton, I must say you're
managing to get it down pretty well," she said.

"Ah, but you see, the thought of treacle tart to follow sustains me,"
replied Jack, quite unabashed. "What's your favourite pudding, Gerry?
Treacle tart or the apple pie we get on Sundays? I wonder why on
Sundays it is always apple pie?"

"It's one of the rules of the Medes and Persians," said Nita, "that's
why."

"Which do you like best, Gerry?" persisted Jack.

"Apple pie, I think," said Gerry, laughing, as much with pleasure at
being included in the conversation again after all these weeks of exile
as with amusement at Jack's nonsense--which was put on, as she very
well knew, to hide the awkwardness of this reconciliation. Gerry, like
Jack, felt shy at the thought of any sort of "scene" taking place, and
was only too glad to fall back into friendly ways in this commonplace
manner. It was rather a case of making conversation all through that
meal, but Gerry responded bravely to Jack's efforts. And both girls
felt that they were well on the way towards renewing the friendship
which had been so nearly formed between them on the first evening of
the term.

"I say, are you walking with anyone this afternoon?" asked Jack
abruptly, when, dinner being over, the girls were leaving the
dining-hall.

"I'm playing hockey," replied Gerry regretfully. "Worse luck!"

"_Worse luck_?" said Jack in astonishment. Then remembering some of
Gerry's reasons for disliking the game, she coloured violently. "Oh,
well, never mind," she said quickly. "I was going to ask you to be my