rest of the school together with the
mistresses. The outside public was not invited, as the little plays
were only intended to be acted among the girls themselves. The Sixth
naturally led off, and Gwen quaked as she sat with her Form in front
of the heavy red curtains. She was afraid an unpleasant surprise
awaited her comrades, and she wondered how they would take it. Exactly
what she expected happened. The bell rang, the curtains were drawn
aside to reveal--alas, alas, for the Fifth!--a very excellently got up
trial scene from the _Merchant of Venice_. Bessie Manners, the head of
the school, was a majestic Portia in a handsome scarlet robe; Winnie
made an attractive Nerissa; while all the other characters were
arrayed in slightly more sumptuous costumes than Elspeth and Hilda had
been able to collect.

A shudder of cold horror ran through the unfortunate Fifth, the
dramatic representatives of which listened with a kind of fascination
to their own speeches, tripped off lightly and easily by their
Seniors. It was more particularly galling as all realized that the
whole thing was on a rather higher scale than theirs; it was better
staged, much prompter, the actions were more appropriate, and the
players less stiff and self-conscious, to say nothing of the superior
dresses. In gloomy resignation they sat the scene out, and had the
magnanimity to applaud heartily at the end. Then came the crisis.

"We can't possibly give the very same thing all over again," whispered
Hilda to Elspeth. "We shall just have to announce that ours is 'off'."

Deeply humiliated and disgusted, the Fifth retired to its own
classroom to discuss the untoward event.

"It's too sickening--when I'd borrowed the wig on purpose!" wailed
Hilda. "You can't think how I had to pester Dad to lend it."

"And my Bassanio doublet and tights were made at a dressmaker's!"
lamented Louise Mawson.

"Who'd have thought of the Sixth choosing that very scene?"

"Well, I tried to persuade you to take something else instead,"
declared Gwen, offering Job's comfort to the disappointed ones.

"Gwen Gascoyne, I verily believe you knew all the time what the Sixth
were going to have."

"You must have known when your sister was in it."

"I wasn't sure, but I had an inkling," confessed Gwen.

"Then why didn't you tell?" howled the girls in chorus.

"Why? Because it didn't seem fair. Winnie hadn't said a word--I only
guessed. You know we're all supposed to keep our