always gloried in Marian's
success.

"It's a shame!" she whispered to Jessie Ellis. "That new girl has no
right to get top. I'm sure Miss Arkwright must have favoured her."

Miss Arkwright looked as surprised as anybody, but her conscience was
clear of all favouritism, she was strictly impartial, and Miss Kaye
herself had marked the exercises. She made no comment, however, and
lessons began as usual.

The eight girls were seated in a row on a form opposite their
teacher's desk, and were expected to sit with shoulders erect, hands
folded, and feet neatly placed together. Sylvia, who had rather
fidgety ways, and was apt to wriggle when answering a question, found
it hard to keep this prim position, and, in the agony of recalling the
principal tributaries of the Yorkshire Ouse, she almost unconsciously
seized a handful of pens from the box which lay on a chair by her side
and began to finger them nervously.

"The Swale, the Yore, the Nidd, the Wharfe, the Aire," she said,
counting each with a pen.

Marian put out her hand and drew the pens firmly away.

"Two more," suggested Miss Arkwright.

"The Swale, the Yore, the Nidd, the Wharfe, the Aire----" repeated
Sylvia desperately, missing the pens and feeling as if she could not
go on without them.

"Next!" said Miss Arkwright, who never waited long for anybody.

"Calder and Don," finished Marian promptly, replacing the pens in the
box, which she popped on to the desk behind, whispering to Sylvia as
she did so: "You're not fit to be top!"

"Marian Woodhouse and Sylvia Lindsay each lose an order mark," said
Miss Arkwright, at which they both looked sober, though neither minded
very much since the other had the same.

"You needn't have pulled the pens from me just when I was answering,"
said Sylvia to Marian afterwards. "You put everything straight out of
my head."

"If you can't answer without something to play with," retorted Marian,
"you'd better go to the baby class and learn kindergarten drawing on a
slate. No one would think you were nearly eleven."

It was certainly trying for poor Marian to find a younger girl
occupying the position which she had come to regard as her own special
property, and she could not yield with a good grace. Fate seemed
determined to call her failure into notice. In the afternoon, when
singing was over, Miss Denby turned to dismiss the various forms back
to their schoolrooms.

"Class Three will go out first," she said. "Balancin