ched far
more than they had originally been marked at by their owners. There are
limits, however, to school-girl pockets, and Miss Kingsley had made a
special proviso that no credit was to be given. As the purses grew thin,
the objects on sale went off, as Patsie expressed it, "dirt cheap", and
several girls secured bargains surpassing even their wildest dreams.

"Time's getting on, and we put up the shutters at five," continued the
loquacious auctioneeress. "I'll take the rest in lots. Some one please
give me a cough lozenge, for my throat's getting hoarse. You don't
wonder? Then take my place, and do the talking yourself. You're welcome
to it. Oh! you'd rather not, when it comes to the point? Give me a bid,
then, to start this charming assortment of fancy articles--chalks,
marbles, pencils, wools all mixed together and going for next to
nothing. Pennies will do it. We don't want to take anything home again."

Thanks to Patsie's persuasive tongue, the whole stock of goods was at
last disposed of, and quite a nice little sum was counted up for the
prisoners of war.

The girls trudged home with their parcels, in high spirits, voting the
whole affair a huge success, and laughing immoderately over some of the
incidents. Vivien, in an unwonted mood of generosity, actually offered
to copy the piece of music for her cousin. Claire and Nellie, after
quarrelling over a framed picture, patched up peace, and presented it
between them to their form mistress.

Lorraine, when she reached her own bedroom, locked her particular
treasures securely in her bottom drawer. But that night, when she was
settling snugly on her pillow, there was a patter of bedroom slippers
along the landing, her door burst open, and a little sobbing,
dressing-gowned figure came creeping into her bed.

"I'm sorry I took your things," it gulped. "I c--c--couldn't go to sleep
till I'd said so. I t--t--took them because I was cross about the
b--b--birthday book. I was a b--b--b--east!"

"I was a bigger beast, Cuckoo!" confessed Lorraine, hugging her tight.
"Look here, I'll buy you another Kate Greenaway birthday book, exactly
the same only absolutely new, and give it to you for Christmas. Would
you like that?"

"Yes, I'd love it. But might I have it _before_ Christmas? I meant to
copy some of those dear little pictures on to a calendar for Mother. She
said she liked them so much, and I'd planned it for her present, and
_that_ was why I wanted the birthday