do really mean what I
say. It's cold at school, and horrid, and Miss Davis is always down on
me, and I hate it. Why must I go?"

"And _why_ must I go back to the trenches?"

"_Don't!_"

"All serene! You and I'll find a desert island together somewhere, and
live upon it for the rest of our lives. You see, they'd never have us
back again if we deserted. We'd have to stop on our island for
evermore!"

"I thought you liked The Gables?" yawned Elsie. "Vivien does. I'm sure
it's a very nice school."

"Oh, Vivien! I dare say! It's all very fine for monitresses. But when
you're in the Third Form, and your desk's on the cold side of the room,
it's the limit. Yes, I dare say I _shall_ get chilblains if I sit close
to the fire, _but I don't care_!"

"The first day's always a little grizzly," agreed Lorraine, who had
followed Monica to the hearth-rug and joined the circle of
fire-worshippers. "One hates getting into harness again after the
holidays. I believe Rosemary's the only one of us who really enthuses.
You'll be gone, too, by next week, Quavers! But I suppose you really
_enjoy_ singing exercises, and having professors storming at you."

"Of course I do," said Rosemary, with a rather unconvincing note in her
voice.

Lorraine glanced at her quickly, but the little brown head was lowered,
and shadows hid the sweet face. Lorraine could not understand Rosemary
these holidays. She had returned from her first term at the College of
Music seemingly as full of enthusiasm as ever, and yet there was "a
something". She gave rapturous accounts of pupils' concerts, of singing
classes, of fellow-students, of rising stars in the musical world, of
favourite teachers, of fun at the College and at the hostel where she
boarded. She had made many new friendships, and was apparently having
the time of her life.

"From her accounts you'd think it was all skittles, but I'm sure there's
a hitch somewhere!" mused Lorraine.

Rosemary, with her big eyes and bigger aspirations, had always been
more or less of a problem. The family had decided emphatically that she
was its genius. They looked for great things from her when her course at
the College should be finished. They all experienced a sort of
second-hand credit in her anticipated achievements. It is so nice to
have someone else to do the clever things while we ourselves wear a
reflected glory thereby. Mrs. Forrester, mother-proud of her musical
chick, could not refrain from a little g