, but when she picked up her
third sheet of exercise paper and began to cover that too, the patience
of her companions became exhausted.

'I say,' said Jean, yawning, 'I wish you'd stop writing and talk; I never
knew any one so fond of writing as you are, Babe.'

Quarantine, after nearly a week of it, was beginning to lose its novelty,
and all the paper bags that the sure aim of the head girl managed to
deposit in their prison did not make up for the many hours of her society
that they were unable to enjoy. Even the arithmetic lessons of Miss
Tomlinson, and the plain-work evenings conducted by 'Smithy,' would
not have seemed nearly so unattractive now as they did a week ago.

'All right,' said Babs, putting down her blue pencil; 'I don't mind
stopping, but I thought Angela didn't want to talk.'

Jean glanced round at Angela, and Angela immediately put her hand to her
head and sighed heavily. She had been doing this for some minutes without
making any effect upon Barbara, although Barbara had been the first to
notice that there was something unusual in her behaviour. That was so
like Babs! She was always the first to notice anything, but she had such
an unsatisfactory way of passing it over, whatever it was, that it was
no advantage to anybody unless some one else noticed it too.

'Hullo!' said Jean, staring; 'what's the matter, Angela?'

'I've got a splitting headache,' murmured Angela, half closing her eyes.

'Anything else?' asked Jean, becoming interested.

'My throat is rather sore, I think, and--and I'm sure I'm feverish,'
answered Angela, faintly; and she shivered to show how feverish she was.

'Oh,' said Barbara, opening her eyes, 'that's how Dr. Hurst said it began;
and then Finny dragged him away, and we didn't hear any more.'

'_Don't_ say anything so dreadful,' murmured Angela, complacently. 'What
shall I do if I can't go in for the competition?'

'Besides, you might have it very badly and die,' said Jean, consolingly.

'Yes, you might. We knew a boy on the opposite side of the square, and
_he_ died,' remarked Babs. 'Only, I'm not sure if it was scarlet fever.
His sister used to come and tell us about it, and she said he had a kettle
with a long spout in his room, all day long, and it puffed out smoke at
him, and made such a funny gurgling sound that she used to be afraid to
pass his door after dark. Perhaps it wasn't scarlet fever,' she added,
out of consideration for Angela, 'but he did die.'