eful movement, enthusiasm and
dramatic fire. You say you have only been training her since last May?
Why, it's marvellous! You must be a born teacher. I couldn't have done
more with her in the time myself. If you would care to help me with some
of my pupils, you could take a good deal of work off my hands. I have
never found anyone before who so absolutely realised my methods. I
should be very glad to give you charge of the beginners under my
supervision."

It was Rosemary's turn now to be surprised.

"Oh, if I only might!" she gasped.

Two very delighted and happy girls returned to Porthkeverne next day;
Claudia with the sure prospect of a scholarship, and Rosemary almost
dazed at the offer of so splendid a post as assistant to Signor Arezzo.

"Isn't it wonderful, Muvvie?" she confided. "Just when I was wailing
that my life was spoilt, I've found my true career. I see now that I
should never have been a success on a platform, and I'm glad Signor
Arezzo had the honesty to tell me so. But teaching is quite different. I
can feel how things ought to be, and I can make other people do them.
It's like working on their instruments instead of mine. Think of going
back to the dear old College, and actually having an established place
there! I do hope I shall really be as useful to the Professor as he
seems to expect! With Lorraine studying sculpture, and Claudia and
myself at the College, what a gorgeous time we shall all have at the
hostel together!"

The final day of the term at The Gables had arrived, and the girls, in
their best dresses, were ready to assemble in the gymnasium for the
speech-giving which always celebrated the close of the school year. The
monitresses met in the Sixth Form room for the last time. They took
their parting differently, according to temperament. Audrey was
sentimental, Nellie a trifle tearful. Each was ready to expatiate on her
plans for the future.

"In three weeks I hope to be on the land, and driving a milk-cart with a
piebald pony," said Patsie cheerfully.

"But why a piebald pony?" asked Dorothy, in a puzzled tone.

"Why? Because people are so superstitious about them, and it would be
such sport to come careering down the street and see folks suddenly
bending to touch their shoes, and know they were all having wishes. I'd
feel like a fairy godmother, or Father Christmas. I've got my land
costume, and it's no end! I wanted to turn up in it to-day to show you
all, only Mother wouldn