Having once made up their minds to concentrate their united energies on establishing a record at games, the girls at Silverside set to work in dead earnest. They organized definite and systematic practice both at cricket and tennis, and tried to bring their play to a higher standard. They found much help in this respect from Miss Peters and Miss Leslie, who had come as new mistresses in September, and were keen on tennis and cricket. During the winter there had been no opportunity for them to display their talents, but now they proved invaluable as coaches. Both had been in large schools and thoroughly understood what was required. They encouraged the girls to arrange matches.

"It's worth it even if you're beaten," said Miss Leslie. "You see other people's play and learn to make a good fight. You can often pick up most valuable hints from your opponents. Some of the best tips I ever had I got from a girl who invariably beat me."

It was quite a novel state of affairs at Silverside for day pupils to stay after four o'clock and join the boarders in tennis court or cricket field, but after the first week the latter got used to the invasion of their privileges, and decided that the improvement in the general play was ample compensation. The new badges soon arrived, and everybody decided that the combination of pink, pale-blue, and navy was highly satisfactory. The Loyal School League seemed likely to forge ahead. Avelyn made a capital secretary; she was prompt and business-like, and, though she did not push herself forward unduly, she was always ready with helpful suggestions. At one of the committee meetings she started the idea of the Romp Day. It was the Lavender Lady who really thought of it—she inspired all Avelyn's best schemes. They had talked it over and planned it out in the little garden at Lyngates, where roses were now blooming instead of the wallflowers and aubrietia.

"I'm glad the League's prospering," she had said. "It's splendid how you're all working together now and coaching each other. It's a pity, though, if all this new spirit of helpfulness spends itself entirely on the school. It ought to find a wider outlet. You're having jolly times in the playing fields this term. Can't you pass on some of the fun to others who never get a chance to play games for themselves? I mean the little cripple children. There's a branch of the 'Poor Brave Things' Society in Harlingden. If Miss Thompson would let you give them an afternoon's outing they'd have the time of their lives. Could you possibly suggest it, do you think? I really believe it's the sort of thing Silverside would enjoy."

The League and Miss Thompson justified the Lavender Lady's good opinion of them. They took up the idea with enthusiasm, and decided to organize a "Romp Day" for the crippled children. They communicated with the secretary of the "Poor Brave Things" Society, with the result that invitations were sent out to thirty little invalids to come to a picnic party in the garden at Silverside and be entertained. A special half-holiday was given for the occasion, and all the school was asked to unite in making the affair a success. Miss Thompson wished the day girls to stay to tea that afternoon, but catering was a difficulty. It was utterly impossible for her to provide a meal for a hundred and thirty children. The Food Controller rationed the school according to the number of its boarders. The Principal was inventive, however, and hit on an excellent solution of the problem. She asked each day girl to bring enough tea, sugar, milk, buns, and cake for her own consumption and for half the allowance for one guest, and in this way provided ample for everybody, without anyone being asked to give more than a very small contribution of food.

"Before the war I should have been horrified at the idea of inviting you to come to a party and bring your own provisions," said Miss Thompson. "In these days of semi-famine, however, we have to do many new and strange things. It's wonderful what we can get used to when we try." The girls themselves thought it was immense fun each to bring a little basket to make the feast.

"It's like an American tea," said Gladys Wilks. "I'm going to make some scones myself. We've got a quarter of a pound of sultanas hoarded up. We've been saving them for some great occasion; Mother said they'd do for my birthday cake, so I know she'll let me use them for this instead. I've got a topping recipe, if they only turn out as it says."

"Guess they'll be jolly nice. Bags me one if the cripples don't want them all!" declared Maggie. "You shall have a piece of my sandwich-cake instead."

"Look here," interrupted Gertrude; "this business isn't to be all tea and buns. We've got to give these kiddies a real good time. Suggestions, please! Don't all speak at once!"

"We're going to sing to them."

"And the Juniors are to do a dance."

"How about some gym display?"

"Um—tolerable! But my idea is that they won't want to sit and watch us perform the whole time. There ought to be something specially for themselves. Stop a minute! I've a brain wave! Don't speak to me! My mind's working."

The girls grinned expectantly, while Gertrude stood with finger uplifted for silence.

"Got it!" she proclaimed at last. "We'll have a Surprise Tree."

"What's that?"

"Well, you can't exactly have a Christmas tree at this time of year, but we'll rig up something very like it. You know that little monkey-puzzler near the summer-house? We'll decorate it with streamers of paper and ornaments, and hang presents on with coloured ribbons. There must be one for each crippled child, or two if possible. Every girl in this school has got to bring a present."

Once the idea of providing suitable entertainment for their invalid guests was mooted, many suggestions were forthcoming. Vivian Roy, who was the lucky owner of a Shetland pony and a tiny basket cart, offered to bring these to school and take relays of children for drives round the garden. Sybil Beaumont undertook to lend a very superior gramophone; the mother of one of the Juniors promised to send oranges. Violet Parker told her aunt, the Mayoress, about the party, and that kind-hearted lady arranged to allow the use of her carriage for the afternoon, to carry some of the children from their homes to the school and back. As means of conveyance were a real difficulty, several other parents followed her example and sent governess cars or hired cabs. It was a form of help for which the secretary of the "Poor Brave Things" was particularly grateful.

"You've no idea what trouble it is for their friends to bring them," she explained. "Unless they possess, or can borrow, some kind of invalid carriage it's an impossibility. Also many of them can't spare the time to do it. In the days of petrol plenty we used to have an annual outing for the children, and people lent their cars, but of course that is all stopped now."

On the afternoon in question the numerous hostesses were waiting about in the garden long before their visitors were due. Each day girl had duly brought her basket, the contents of which were to be pooled for general consumption. The gramophone had been placed on a table outside, and the Shetland pony and cart were in readiness near the door.

"I expect there's been a terrific amount of washing and dressing and hair-curling going on," laughed Annie. "I hope the children will survive your scones, Gladys!"

"Don't be insulting! My scones are delicious! I've tasted them, so I know."

"You greedy thing!"

"Certainly not. I couldn't bring them without seeing whether they were fit to eat."

"I heroically didn't touch even a crumb of mine!"

"More goose you!"

"Don't spar," interrupted Gertrude. "Here comes the first contingent!"

It was the Mayoress's carriage, and it had brought six guests—such pathetic little people! Some of them had crutches, and could manage to walk, but others had to be wheeled up the drive in a Bath chair, which was waiting on purpose. A special corner of the garden, with couches and cosy seats, had been arranged for them, and each child as it arrived was taken there, two special hostesses being told off to look after it for the afternoon and make it happy. Avelyn, together with Laura, found herself in charge of a mite of a girl who looked about eight, but declared she was nearly thirteen.

"It's the first time I've been out for ten weeks, miss," she said shyly. "I lie on my back most days."

"What do you do? Can you read?" asked Avelyn.

"Yes, when I get any books. Our District Visitor lends me some."

"Have you ever been to school?"

"Not since I was nine. It was at school I fell and hurt my back. It's been bad ever since."

The little visitors were evidently prepared to enjoy every moment of their party. They were given tea almost immediately, and did full justice to the various cakes and buns which the girls had brought for them. They listened smiling while the gramophone blared forth selections, and clapped their hands when the Juniors danced for their amusement. Those who could bear the jolting went for short drives in Vivian's pony carriage, but most of them were obliged to sit very still. One little fellow—the cheeriest of all—lay flat on a rug, with a cushion under his head.

As it would have been impossible to move all the children from one place to another, their special corner had been arranged round the Surprise Tree. The little monkey-puzzler presented a very gay appearance, for it had been decorated with Christmas-tree ornaments, coloured balls, and glass birds, crackers, oranges, and bags of sweets. Underneath were piled sixty interesting-looking parcels tied up with ribbons. Mabel Collinson, one of the Juniors, dressed as a fairy and attended by two Brownies, suddenly made her appearance among the bushes, and going up to the tree, began to strip its branches and hand sweets and crackers and oranges to the expectant children. The parcels came next. There were two apiece for them; and so well had the girls responded to the appeal for presents that gasps of astonishment and delight followed the unwrapping of the packages. "Oh's" and "Ah's" resounded on all sides.

"It's too lovely, miss!" beamed Avelyn's little protÉgÉe, hugging a story-book in one arm and a work-basket in the other.

Her neighbour was rejoicing over a writing-case and a drawing-slate, and the tiny girl on the couch was kissing a doll. It was a pretty sight to see the poor little helpless creatures happy for one afternoon—pretty, but so pathetic that the tears swam in Miss Thompson's eyes. The contrast between these crippled children and her own sturdy girls seemed so acute.

"Please, m'm," volunteered one little boy, "Lizzie over there says she can say a piece of poetry if you'd like to hear her."

"By all means. We shall be only too pleased," returned Miss Thompson, going across to the small reciter and asking her to begin.

Lizzie was a diminutive, white-faced specimen of ten, with a crooked spine and big bright eyes. There was a large soul in the little body, and it showed when she began to speak. Her piece was a patriotic one, and she said it well. The Silverside girls who were near enough to hear her applauded heartily, and those who were too far off to catch a word clapped too, out of sympathy. Finding that everyone was interested, Miss Thompson asked some of the other children to recite. Most of them were too bashful, but one or two consented, and shyly murmured a few verses. None, however, had the fire and spirit of Lizzie, who was quite the star of the company. She departed, beaming with pride at having distinguished herself, and clasping a poetry book which Miss Peters had hurriedly fetched from her bedroom and presented to her.

"It was the nicest party we've ever had at the school," said Laura, watching as the last of the little guests was lifted into a Bath chair to be wheeled home. "There was no mistake about their enjoying themselves at any rate."

"They've had the time of their lives, bless 'em!" agreed Janet.

There was much to tell the Lavender Lady when Friday came round again. Lately she had grown to be the centre of all Avelyn's actions. She was always so ready to take a sympathetic interest in things, and Daphne—Daphne, who of yore was the recipient of innumerable confidences—had somehow been growing self-absorbed. She would sit and stitch with a far-away look in her eyes, while Avelyn poured out school news, and her occasional comments showed that she was not really listening.

"She's getting so horribly grown-up!" complained her injured sister. "She's not the same girl she used to be. I feel as if she had drifted miles away in the last few months. Quite suddenly she seems ten years older than David and Tony and me. I don't like it!"

"You must let Daphne have her innings," said Mrs. Watson. "You'll have your own some day. She can't remain a child always. I think on the whole she's very good to you younger ones. It's only natural she should begin to like the society of older people now. Her life is just opening out. You mustn't expect her to give up her whole time to yourself and the boys. Do be nice about it, Ave! Be proud that you've got such a pretty sister, and glad for her to enjoy herself."

That was certainly a different way of looking at it. Avelyn felt self-reproachful. She remembered that she had not troubled to listen when Daphne consulted her as to whether a pink or a mauve voile blouse would look best with her new costume; just at the moment school affairs had seemed so much more interesting than her sister's clothes.

"I suppose I'm a selfish beast!" she said to herself. "The next time Daphne's going out to tea anywhere I'll sit in her bedroom while she dresses and hold hairpins for her, or anything else she wants. The worst of it is, though, she doesn't always want me! Just at present I believe she'd any time rather have Jimmy!"

Jimmy was Daphne's little fox terrier. That is to say, he was hers temporarily, for he really belonged to Captain Harper. She had mentioned one day that she would like a small dog of her very own, and the young officer had looked thoughtful. The next week he had turned up, accompanied by Jimmy.

"I wish you'd accept him!" he said. "He's my dog, but I can't keep him at the Camp. I've had him boarded out in Starbury since I've been stationed here, and yesterday I went over and fetched him."

"I'll have him as a loan and take care of him till you want him again," agreed Daphne, "but I won't take him right away from you. It wouldn't be fair."

"Yes, it would, if I wanted to give him. He's the best little chap out. You'll find him a kind of epitome of the Catechism combined with all the cardinal virtues. Jimmy, make your bow!"

The little fox terrier, which sat up and saluted at its master's word of command, seemed a sharp and intelligent specimen of the canine race, and when it snuggled its nose in Daphne's hand it completely conquered her heart.

"Won't he want to run back to his master?" she asked.

"No, he has his orders and understands perfectly. I've explained the situation to him, and you'll find he won't attempt to leave you. He's prepared to carry a stick or an umbrella, mount guard over coats, bark at tramps, worry rats, or demolish burglars."

Jimmy's subsequent behaviour certainly justified the character Captain Harper had given him. Having been solemnly made over by his master, he seemed to realize his responsibilities, and attached himself to Daphne with all the strength of his doggy nature. His manners were excellent. He would lie curled up on the rug at meal-times, and did not beg until he had received express permission, only winking an occasional pathetic eye in the direction of the table.

"I'm sure he understands every single word I say to him," said Daphne, who idolized her new possession. "I don't know how I should get along without him now."

"What will you do if you have to give him back?" asked Avelyn.

"It hasn't come to giving him back yet," evaded Daphne.

But on the very Saturday after the Surprise Tree party the question cropped up. Captain Harper had come over to Walden to fulfil a promise of making a fresh door for one of the chicken coops. He had taken possession of the carpentry room in the cottage, and was working away at the joiner's bench. Daphne held the wire steady, and Avelyn—with a strong sense that she was not wanted—handed the nails. Jimmy lay at his ease upon the shavings and yawned. His attitude of complete comfort attracted attention. "If you're really sent back to Starbury next month you'll have to take him with you," commented Daphne.

"I never take back a present I've once given," answered the Captain firmly. "We've argued that out before."

"But for Jimmy's sake? He loves you far the best still. I'm only a makeshift."

"I assure you he doesn't."

"Then how can we tell his preference?"

"Let him decide for himself. You stand over there and I'll stand here, and we'll both call him at once and see which he runs to."

Poor Jimmy, a much-perplexed and agitated dog, rose from his bed of shavings and remained in the middle of the floor, whimpering and looking with indecision towards the master who had brought him up from puppyhood, and the sweet young mistress who had won his heart. Then he made a rush towards the former, and, seizing him by the trouser, hauled him across the room in the direction of Daphne.

"Jimmy has solved the matter!" said Captain Harper. "He wants us both to own him!"

And at that point Avelyn felt that her presence grew so very de trop, that she murmured some excuse about finishing her lessons, and made her exit from the cottage, leaving her sister and Captain Harper to settle the disputed question of ownership in their own fashion.

"I suppose this is growing up," ruminated Avelyn, as she crossed the yard and went into the orchard. "Daphne seems to enjoy it, and I'll give her her innings by all manner of means. How funny it would be to have a brother-in-law! It'll come to that some day if I'm not mistaken. No, thanks! I don't want to grow up just yet myself. Perhaps I'll change my mind later on, but at the present time I'd ever so much rather be a schoolgirl!"