one
getting wise. And we've planned to roast them in here while the others
are at the organ recital. We didn't mean to let anyone else know, but
we don't mind you--do we, Nita?"

"Oh no, of course not," said Nita hastily. But there was not quite so
much conviction in her voice as Gerry would have liked to have heard in
it. However, Jack's evident anxiety for her company made up for Nita's
lack of cordiality; and soon the three of them were amicably engaged in
scorching their faces and burning their fingers over the chestnuts.

It was very cosy in the sitting-room, curled up on the hearthrug in
front of the glowing fire, which Jack had taken care to build up well
before tea and which was now a flaming mass of red-hot coals. Jack was
in one of her merriest, maddest moods, and her mirth infected the other
two as well. Nita forgot her slight annoyance at finding that Gerry
was to be a participator in the chestnut-roasting, and Gerry herself
was too happy for words as she sat beside Jack in the flickering
firelight. For Jack was leaning against her in the friendliest way,
and it seemed to the new girl that all her school troubles were over at
last, and that nothing but friendship and happiness lay before her.

But suddenly, while the merriment was at its height, the sitting-room
door opened abruptly, and a stream of light from the passage outside
poured into the room. Nita sprang to her feet, and Jack and Gerry
looked round in startled surprise. A thin, angular figure stood in the
doorway, and a rasping voice exclaimed in disgusted tones:

"What is this smell of burning?"

"Jemima! It's Miss Burton!" muttered Jack, as she scrambled to her
feet. "Quick, Gerry, stuff the chestnuts into your pocket!
Anywhere--while I brush the shucks under the hearthrug. She can't have
seen anything yet."

Gerry hastily gathered up what chestnuts she could lay her hands upon
and stuffed them into the one pocket her dress possessed. Nita did the
same, while Jack disposed of the empty shells as best she could. By
the time Miss Burton had succeeded in finding the switch and turning on
the light, nothing remained except the tell-tale smell of burning to
betray the fact that any unlawful feasting had recently taken place.

Jack sniffed innocently into the air.

"Burning, Miss Burton? Is there a smell of burning?"

Miss Burton advanced into the room, looking suspiciously about her.
Her days of chestnut-roasting were so long o