The last few days of the term were passing quickly. The examinations were over, though the lists were not yet out. To both Marjorie and Dona they had been somewhat of an ordeal, for the Brackenfield standard was high. When confronted with sets of questions the girls felt previous slackness in work become painfully evident. It was horrible to have to sit and look at a problem without the least idea of how to solve it; or to find that the dates and facts which ought to have been at their finger-ends had departed to distant and un-get-at-able realms of their memory.

"I can think of the wretched things afterwards," mourned Dona, "but at the time I'm so flustered, everything I want to remember goes utterly out of my head. I really knew the boundaries of Germany, only I drew them wrong on the map; and in the Literature paper I mixed up Pope and Dryden, and I put that Sheridan wrote She Stoops to Conquer, instead of Goldsmith."

"I'm sure I failed in Chemistry," groused Marjorie. "And the Latin was the most awful paper I've ever seen in my life. It would take a B.A. to do that piece of unseen translation. As for the General Knowledge paper, I got utterly stumped. How should I know what are the duties of a High Sheriff and an Archdeacon, or how many men must be on a jury? Even Mollie Simpson said it was stiff, and she's good at all that kind of information. I wonder they didn't ask us how many currants there are in a Christmas pudding!"

"There won't be many this year," laughed Dona. "Auntie was saying currants and raisins are very scarce. Probably we shan't get any mince pies. But I don't care. It'll be lovely to be at home again, even if the Germans sink every food ship and only leave us porridge for Christmas."

The last day of the term was somewhat in the nature of a ceremony at Brackenfield. Lessons proceeded as usual until twelve, when the whole school assembled for the reading of the examination lists. Marjorie quaked when it came to the turn of IVa. As she expected, she had failed in Chemistry, though she had just scraped through in Latin, Mathematics, and General Knowledge. Her record could only be considered fair, and to an ambitious girl like Marjorie it was humiliating to find herself lower on the lists than others who were younger than herself.

"I'll brace up next term and do better," she thought, as Mrs. Morrison congratulated Mollie Simpson, Laura Norris, and Enid Young on their excellent work, and deplored the low standard of at least half of the form.

Dona, greatly to her surprise, had done less badly than she expected, and instead of finding herself the very last, was sixth from the bottom, and actually above Mona Kenworthy—a circumstance which made her literally gasp with surprise.

The afternoon was devoted to packing. Each girl found her box in her own cubicle, and started to the joyful task of turning out her drawers. It was a jolly, merry proceeding, even though Miss Norton and several other teachers were hovering about to keep order and ensure that the girls were really filling their trunks, instead of racing in and out of the dormitories and talking, as would certainly have been the case if they had been left to their own devices. By dint of good generalship on the part of the House Mistress and her staff, St. Elgiva's completed its arrangements twenty minutes before the other hostels, and had therefore the credit of being visited first by the janitor and the gardener, whose duty it was to carry down the luggage. The large boxes were taken away that evening in carts to the station, and duly dispatched, each girl keeping her necessaries for the night, which she would take home with her in a hand-bag.

"No prep. after tea to-day, thank goodness!" said Betty Moore, collecting her books and stowing them away in her locker. "I don't want to see this wretched old history again for a month. I'm sick of improving my mind. I'm not going to read a single line during the holidays, not even stories. I'll go out riding every day, even if it's wet. Mother says my pony's quite well again, and wants exercising. He'll get it, bless him, while I'm at home.""What do we do this evening instead of prep.?" asked Marjorie. "Games, I suppose, or dancing?"

"Why, no, child, it's the School Union," returned Betty, slamming the door of her locker.

"What's that?"

"Great Minerva! don't you know? You're painfully new even yet, Marjorie Anderson. There, don't get raggy; I'll tell you. On the last evening of every term the whole school meets in the big hall—just the girls, without any of the teachers. The prefects sit on the platform, and the head girl reads a kind of report about all that's happened during the term—the games and that sort of thing, and what she and the prefects have noticed, and what the Societies have done, and news of old girls, and all the rest of it. Then anybody who likes can make comments, or suggestions for next term, or air grievances. It's a kind of School Council meeting, and things are often put to the vote. It gets quite exciting. We don't have supper till 8.30, so as to give us plenty of time. We all eat an extra big tea, so as to carry us on."

"I'm glad you warned me," laughed Marjorie. "Do they bring in more bread-and-butter?"

"Yes, loads more, and potted meat, and honey and jam. We have a good tuck-out, and then only cocoa and buns later on. It's not formal supper. You see, we've packed our white dresses, and can't change this evening. We've only our serges left here. The meeting's rather a stunt. We have a jinky time as a rule."

By five o'clock every girl in the school had assembled in the big hall. Though no mistresses were present, the proceedings were nevertheless perfectly orderly, and good discipline prevailed. On the platform sat the prefects, the chair being taken by Winifrede Mason, the head girl. Winifrede was a striking personality at Brackenfield, and filled her post with dignity. She was eighteen and a half, tall, and finely built, with brown eyes and smooth, dark hair. She had a firm, clever face, and a quiet, authoritative manner that carried weight in the school, and crushed any symptoms of incipient turbulence amongst Juniors. Many of the girls would almost rather have got into trouble with Mrs. Morrison than incur the displeasure of Winifrede, and a word of praise from her lips was esteemed a high favour. She did not believe in what she termed "making herself too cheap", and did not encourage the prefects to mix at all freely with Intermediates or Juniors, so that to most of the girls she seemed on a kind of pedestal—a member of the school, indeed, and yet raised above the others. She was just, however, and on the whole a great favourite, for, though she kept her dignity, she never lost touch with the school, and always voiced the general sentiments. She stood up now on the platform and began what might be termed a presidential speech.

"Girls, we've come to the end of the first term in another school year. Some of you, like myself, are old Brackenfielders, and others have joined us lately, and are only just beginning to shake down into our ways. It's for the sake of these that I want just briefly to recapitulate some of the standards of this school. We've always held very lofty ideals here, and we who are prefects want to make sure that during our time they are kept, and that we hand them on unsullied to those who come after us. What is the great object that we set ourselves to aim at? Perhaps some of you will say, 'To do well at our lessons', or 'To win at games'. Well, that's all a part of it. The main thing that we're really striving for is the formation of character. There's nothing finer in all the world. And character can only be formed by overcoming difficulties. Every hard lesson you master, or every game you win, helps you to win it. There are plenty of difficulties at school. Nobody finds it plain sailing. When you're cooped up with so many other girls you soon find you can't have all your own way, and it must be a give-and-take system if you're to live peaceably with your fellows. When this great war broke out, people had begun to say that our young men of Britain had grown soft and ease-loving, and thought of nothing except pleasure. Yet at the nation's call they flung up all they had and flocked to enlist, and proved by their magnificent courage the grit that was in them after all. Our women, too—Society women who had been, perhaps justly, branded as 'mere butterflies'—put their shoulders to the wheel, and have shown how they, too, could face dangers and difficulties and privations. As nurses, ambulance drivers, canteen workers, telephone operators, some have played their part in the field of war; and their sisters at home have worked with equal courage to make munitions, and supply the places left vacant by the men. Now, I don't suppose there is a girl in this room who does not call herself patriotic. Let her stop for a moment to consider what she means. It isn't only waving the Union Jack, and singing 'God Save the King', and knitting socks for soldiers. That's the mere outside of it. There's a far deeper part than that. We're only schoolgirls now, but in a few years we shall become a part of the women of the nation. In the future Britain will have to depend largely on her women. Let them see that they fit themselves for the burden! We used to be told that the Battle of Waterloo was won on the playing-fields of our great public schools. Well, I believe that many future struggles are being decided by the life in our girls' schools of to-day. Though we mayn't realize it, we're all playing our part in history, and though our names may never go down to posterity, our influence will. The watchwords of all patriotic women at present are 'Service and Sacrifice'. In the few years that we are here at school let us try to prepare ourselves to be an asset to the nation afterwards. Aim for the highest—in work, games, and character. As the old American said: 'Hitch your wagon to a star', because it's better to attempt big things, even if you fail, than to be satisfied with a low ideal.

"It is encouraging for us Brackenfielders to know what good work some of our old girls are doing to help their country. I'm going to read you the latest news about them."Mary Walker has been nursing for fifteen months at a hospital in Cairo, and is now at the Halton Military Hospital, hoping to be sent out to France after six months' further training. She enjoyed her work in Egypt, and found many opportunities for interesting expeditions in her off-duty time. She went for camel rides to visit the tombs in the desert, had moonlight journeys to the Pyramids, and sailed up the Nile.

"Emily Roberts is assistant cook at the Brendon Hospital, which has two hundred beds. She says they make daily about twelve gallons of milk pudding, soup, porridge, &c., and about five gallons of sauce. The hours are 6.30 to 1.30, then either 1.30 to 5, or 5 till 9p.m. She has lost her brother at the front. He obtained very urgent and important information, and conveyed it safely back. While telephoning it he was hit by a sniper's bullet, but before he passed away he managed to give the most important part of the message.

"Gladys Mellor has just had a well-earned holiday after very strenuous work at the Admiralty. She not only does difficult translation work, but has learnt typewriting for important special work.

"Alison Heatley (nÉe Robson) is in Oxford with her two tiny boys. She lost her husband in the summer. At the time he was hit he was commanding a company; they had advanced six miles, and were fighting in a German trench, when he was shot through the lungs and in the back. He was taken to hospital and at first improved, but then had a relapse. Alison was with him when he died. He is buried in a lovely spot overlooking the sea, with a pine wood at the back. He had been mentioned in dispatches twice and had won the Military Cross.

"Evelyn Scott has been transferred from Leabury Red Cross Hospital to King's Hospital, London. She says she spends the whole of her time in the ward kitchen, except for bed-making and washing patients. Everything is of white enamel, and she has to scrub an endless supply of this and help to cook countless meals. Evelyn has just lost her fiancÉ. He was killed by a German shell while on sentry duty. He warned the rest of his comrades of the danger, and they were unhurt, but he was killed instantly.

"Hester Strong and Doris Hartley were sent to a kindergarten summer school in Herefordshire, each in charge of three children, to whose physical comfort and education they had to attend. They lived in little cottages, and Hester taught geography and botany, and Doris farm study, and they took the children for botanical expeditions.

"Lilian Roy has finished her motoring course at a training-school for the R.A.C. driving certificate, and is gaining her six months' general practice by driving for a Hendy's Stores. She had her van in the City during the last raid, and took refuge in a cellar. She hopes soon to be ready for ambulance work.

"Annie Barclay is acting quartermaster for their Red Cross Hospital. She is always on duty, and has charge of the kit, linen, and stores."You see," continued Winifrede, "what splendid work our old Brackenfielders are doing in the world. Now I want to turn to some of our own activities, and I will call upon our games captain and the secretaries of the various societies to read their reports."

Stella Pearson, the games captain, at once rose.

"I think we're getting on fairly well at hockey," she announced. "All three teams are satisfactory. The match with Silverton was played in glorious weather. The game was hard and very fast, but there was a great deal of fouling on both sides. We scored three goals during the first half, and though our forwards pressed hard, our fourth and last goal was not gained till just before the end. We should probably have scored more had not the forwards been 'offside' so often. At the beginning of the second half Silverton pressed our defence hard, and, getting away with the ball, shot two goals, one after another. Both sides played hard, and the game was well contested. It was only spoilt by the fouling. When the whistle went for 'time', the score was 4-2 in our favour, and we found that the unexpected had happened and that we had actually beaten Silverton.

"The match with Penley Club, as you know, we lost, and the match with Siddercombe was a draw, so we may consider ourselves to be just about even this term. Next term we must brace up and show we can do better. We mustn't be satisfied till Brackenfield has beaten her record."

Reports followed next from the various societies, showing what work had been done in "The General Reading Competition", "The Photographic Society", "The Natural History Association", "The Art Union" and "The Handicrafts Club". Specimens of the work of these various activities had been laid out on tables, and as soon as the reports had been read the girls were asked to walk round and look at them. Marjorie, in company with Mollie Simpson, made a tour of inspection. The show was really very good. The enlarging apparatus, lately acquired by the Photographic Society, had proved a great success, and several girls exhibited beautiful views of the school. Moths, butterflies, fossils, shells, and seaweeds formed an interesting group for the Natural History Association, and the Handicrafts Club had turned out a wonderful selection of toys that were to be sent to the Soldiers' and Sailors' Orphanage. "The Golden Rule Society" had quite a respectable pile of socks ready to be forwarded to the front.

Marjorie said very little as she went the round of the tables, but she thought much. She had not realized until that evening all that Brackenfield stood for. She began to feel that it was worth while to be a member of such a community. She meant to try really hard next term, and some day—who knew?—perhaps her name might be read out as that of one who, in doing useful service to her country, was carrying out the traditions of the school.

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