Even the pleasant anticipation of the Senior Prom could not drive from Gale’s mind the necessity for passing her mid-term examinations. Her whole future, so she had privately decided, rested on her passing and going on with her friends to Briarhurst. If she couldn’t go with the others she would not want to go at all. It was unthinkable that she should be left behind!

Slowly but surely Gale pulled her marks up. The lapse of time when she had fallen so far behind was forgotten. She regained her old honor roll standing in every subject but one.

Gale had always had trouble with English. Poetry, literature and written composition all combined to give her the most trouble of all her subjects. She could read poetry, memorize it and recite it beautifully, but she had not the faintest appreciation of it. The passages of the greater composers with their clarity and beautifully penned expressions awoke no interest in her whatever. Literature stirred her even less. Her compositions were fair, but not good enough to counter-balance her deterrent marks in the other subjects.

Disheartened and it seemed all for naught, Gale studied literature and poetry. English was a major and she must pass! It meant the necessary points for her graduation! She learned the words in her books and could repeat them like an automaton but they meant absolutely nothing to her.

Miss Relso was not so very much older than Gale. She could remember her own school days when she, too, had struggled with difficult subjects. She wanted to help Gale but the girl must first learn an appreciation of Shakespeare and Browning and all the other masters. Once she had the foundation of a liking for the finer writings it would not be difficult to master all she had to for her class.

The teacher, in a vain attempt to force interest into Gale, kept her after school for conferences, paid particular attention to all Gale’s classwork. But it seemed hopeless. Gale either couldn’t or wouldn’t learn to like poetry.

“Gale, take this book home and read the story of Elaine and Lancelot tonight,” the teacher said one afternoon. “When you’ve finished it, no matter what time it is, come around to my house and we’ll talk about it.”

Gale accepted the book “Idylls of The King” reluctantly and left the classroom. She had a wild desire to pitch the volume into the first handy wastepaper basket. Never had she liked Tennyson. She had not liked any of the poets, but Tennyson in particular. However, the blue book remained in her possession as she wandered homeward. It even remained with her when she met the other Adventure Girls at the Kopper Kettle.

“Hello,” she said as she sank down in her chair. “Where’s Phyllis?”

“In the gym practicing for basketball,” Janet said and pulled her chair in closer. “Now here is my plan.”

“Plan?” Carol inquired lazily. “I didn’t know you had one. What is it for?”

“Listen and find out,” Janet said. “While Phyllis is away, let’s go to her Aunt and ask her to let Phyl go to Briarhurst with us.”

“Not me!” Carol said lustily. “I wouldn’t face that woman for anything.”

“Scaredy cat,” Janet scoffed. “She can’t bite you.”

“She will try hard enough,” Carol declared. “That is the wrong thing to do, Janet. She won’t agree for spite then. You know she never lets Phyl do anything when she thinks Phyl has her heart really set on it. We should use strategy.”

“Such as——” Janet inquired hopefully.

“I don’t know,” Carol admitted.

“Then we’ll do as I suggest—this once,” Janet said. “We’ll go and see her Aunt. Who will go with me?” She looked around. “Don’t all speak at once,” she begged when none of the others had said a word.

Gale laughed. “I might be persuaded,” she said at last. “I’ll go if you will do the talking.”

“Try to keep Janet quiet,” Carol laughed.

“I’ll go too,” Valerie said.

“Excuse me,” Madge put in. “I feel as Carol does. I won’t face Phyl’s Aunt!”

“Then we three will go and beard the dragon in her den,” Janet said with dignity. “Come along, girls.”

The three went out and walked briskly up the long hill. However, as they neared Phyllis’ home their steps began to lag. Some of their bravado was vanishing now that they were actually nearing the tall, cold, sharp-faced woman whose strong will so dominated the life of their friend.

The house itself did not look very encouraging. The curtains were drawn over all the windows and the panes looked bleak and unfriendly. The outside was grey and weatherbeaten and the girls knew from their infrequent visits the inside was just as bleak.

“Well, ring the bell,” Janet said as they stood undecided on the porch.

Gale stretched out a hand and pulled the old fashioned bell handle. They could hear the peal of the iron bell somewhere within the interior.

“Don’t forget,” Valerie told Janet, “you are to do the talking!”

A second later the door was opened by Phyllis’ Aunt in person. The woman took in the three girls standing there and remained firmly planted in the doorway. Obviously she did not intend to invite them in.

“Well?” she said when neither of them spoke.

“I—we—that is——” Janet began lamely and looked appealingly at Gale. Gone were all intentions of talking.

“We’ve come to talk to you about Phyllis,” Gale said, reluctantly taking upon herself their mission.

“What about her?” Miss Fields demanded. “If she is in any kind of trouble I’ll——”

“Oh, no!” Valerie said hastily.

“We’ve come to talk about Phyllis going to Briarhurst,” Gale said unwisely.

The woman before them stiffened noticeably, if it were possible for her to get much stiffer.

“Phyllis is going to Stonecliff,” she said.

“That is it,” Gale said. She scarcely realized what she was saying. Her words tumbled out incoherently in her haste to say what was to be said and to be away again. She realized now more than ever before why Phyllis lived in such awe of Miss Fields. The woman was a positive tyrant! There was not a glimmer of emotion in the stern cut of her features. Gale doubted if a smile had ever curled the corners of the thin lips.

“We’ve become such good friends with Phyllis that we were hoping she might go along with the rest of us to Briarhurst. It seems a shame to break up our group now. Besides Briarhurst is much the finer college. Their curriculum is much larger, the girls are friendly—everything is nicer and Phyllis really wants to go with us.” Gale realized how unwise the last had been as soon as she had said it.

Miss Fields drew herself up to her full height and glared at each girl in turn. “Phyllis is going to Stonecliff,” she said, and without giving the girls a chance to carry the argument any farther she turned and slammed the door in their faces.

“I’m glad she saw our point of view,” Janet commented dryly when the girls had left the vicinity of Phyllis’ home.

“Do you suppose we should tell Phyllis we were here?” Gale asked after a moment.

“We better,” Valerie said.

“I hope Miss Fields doesn’t think Phyllis sent us up there,” Janet put in.

“I hope not!” Gale said.

“Well, what luck?” Carol demanded when the three girls reËntered the Kopper Kettle.

“Not one inch of ground has been gained,” Janet sighed. “We were forced to retreat. The enemy was too much for us.”

“You should have used strategy,” Carol insisted.

Janet sighed and motioned to Phyllis who was just entering.

Phyllis listened silently to the story of the girls’ visit to her Aunt. She had not a word of comment to make. She was not surprised at the abrupt manner of her Aunt. She might have told them to expect nothing else.

When the girls broke up to make their ways to their separate homes for dinner Gale at once retreated to her room and opened the book her English teacher had given her. “Idylls of The King” had not appealed particularly to her when they had read it in class last year. But now she found her interest being drawn into the story of Elaine.

From the very first words she let herself be drawn into the story, and found to her amazement, when she had finished, that she enjoyed it. Perhaps it was because she secretly saw much of Elaine in herself. And Lancelot? No one but Brent could be Lancelot to her.

Obediently when she had finished she donned her coat and walked over to Miss Relso’s home. There she had the most pleasant discussion she had ever had about a book. She found herself liking the young English teacher more every minute and made a determined effort to like and to grasp those points upon which she had never focused much attention before.

From that time on the major part of Gale’s battle was won. Every day brought a new discovery, new appreciation of plays and poetry. She even surprised herself when she discovered she was liking the studies in which she had previously failed. Now she took rapid strides forward. She coÖperated wholeheartedly with her teacher and she did not fail to pass her examinations with flying colors. Her admiration for her teacher knew no bounds.