lly agreed
with her, but still appeared a little puzzled.

'It will be very difficult to do all that,' she observed. 'How can we do
things for the poor, when we never see any poor?'

'You never know when the chance may come,' answered Jean, who was rarely
at a loss. 'Besides, there's the holidays.'

'What!' said Mary, in a voice of dismay. 'Have we got to wait till the
_holidays_ before we can be unselfish?'

'Well,' replied Jean, vaguely, 'you can't say that, for an opportunity
may occur at any minute. What we've got to do is to be on the look-out
for it.'

This unsatisfactory way of disposing of the Canon's address fell very flat
after the recent excitement in the juniors' room concerning it; and most
of Jean's listeners grumbled loudly as soon as she was out of hearing.
But Babs and Angela unhesitatingly threw in their lot with Jean. They were
not quite sure what she meant, but they never doubted her right to be
their leader in this as in everything.

'We'll all keep on the look-out,' they said to one another; 'and the first
who sees an opportunity of helping the poor must promise to share it with
the other two.'

Saturday afternoon came round in another day or two, and on Saturday
afternoon the girls could do pretty much as they liked, as soon as the
hockey practice was over. It was one of those late wintry days in March
which bring with them a promise of spring to come: there was a sharpness
in the air, now that the sun was nearing the west, that proclaimed it
still to be winter, while a faint earthiness of smell, a tumult of birds'
voices in the hedge, and an intense blueness above, all told of the
warmer season in store. The triumvirate, as Margaret Hulme had nicknamed
Jean and her two inseparable companions, were much too fond of the open
air to go indoors before they were obliged; so, while most of their
school-fellows voted for the fire and a story-book, they wandered off
down the nine-acre field, their arms linked affectionately together.
Their conversation was very engrossing, for it turned on the gymnastic
competition that was going to be held at the end of the term, for which
the Canon had just offered a prize of six morocco-bound books, to be
chosen by the successful competitor herself.

'That's where this hole is such a nice hole for a school,' said Jean. 'At
the other school I went to, they never asked you what books you'd like;
and they always gave you _poetry_.'

'Some poetry is all right.