ckey for nuts, and who even funks climbing a rope ladder!"

"Oh, well, I suppose Muriel knows what she's about," said Gwen Carter,
an Upper Fifth girl, in rather a languid tone. "After all, neither Pam
nor Bee are exactly geniuses at hockey, you know. I shouldn't think
that even Gerry Wilmott was much worse. And Dora Wainscott's hand is
still awfully bad. She was wearing it in a sling in form to-day."

"All the same, I think it's too bad that German Gerry should be
playing," declared Phyllis loudly. She had caught sight of Gerry
coming along the corridor, and had raised her voice purposely in order
that she might hear. "I think it's a shame that we should be asked to
play in the same team with her again, when everybody knows that the
Pink Dorm would have won last time if she hadn't funked."

Gerry heard, as it was intended that she should. But she took no
notice, only hurried by the group around the notice-board with flushed
cheeks and averted eyes. The girls stopped talking for the moment and
watched her curiously. Just as she passed somebody gave a slight hiss,
which was immediately taken up by three parts of the girls present.

"German Gerry!" called out someone, and the hissing grew louder as the
girl fled by. Gerry's steps quickened into a run until she had turned
a corner of the corridor and was out of sight of her tormentors. She
had been on her way to the Lower Fifth sitting-room, but her reception
in the passage made her change her mind, and she hurried on to the
classroom instead, which was empty and deserted at this hour. It was
against the rules to be there except in lesson hours, as Gerry knew
well. But she had no other place of refuge, and once or twice lately
this had served her in good stead. It was less risky than going to the
dormitory, which was also out of bounds at this time, and there was no
other place in the school where she could hope to find privacy.

She slipped into her desk and buried her burning face in her hands,
grateful for the darkness and the silence. Although she did not
realise it, Gerry was certainly getting braver. When she first came to
school she would not have ventured alone into a dark room for anything
in the world, in spite of her fifteen years. But now she was so
absorbed in her greater trouble that she forgot to be afraid.

"Why do they hate me so?" she asked herself, and puzzled, as she had
puzzled so many times before, over her unpopularity. It was n