Act I. Scene ii. from the beginning, putting in all the

stage-directions and footnotes. Those are Miss Latham's orders, and what you don't have time to do now, you are to finish in prep to-night."

"My hat! The whole of the second scene!" groaned Phyllis in a whisper. "Why, there's pages and pages of it!"

"Silence, please! There is to be no talking in class," rapped out Muriel, frowning. Phyllis, catching the frown, relapsed into instant silence, and meekly found the place in her copy of _Henry V_. Defying the new mistress was one thing, but to defy the head girl was quite another. And soon the whole of the Lower Fifth was struggling with ink-stained fingers and much inward groaning of spirit to accomplish the irksome and monotonous task allotted to it.

Miss Burton did not return to the classroom at all that morning, and at the end of school, Muriel set the preparation for the evening and prepared to take the marks. Miss Latham's awards for English came first and were duly noted down. Then came the marks for the German class.

"German, now," said Muriel. "Hilda Burns, how many?"

"None," came from Hilda.

"Dorothy Pemberton?"

"None."

"Phyllis Tressider?"

"None."

And so on throughout the whole form, right down to Gerry Wilmott, whose name as the last comer was placed last upon the list. Muriel made no comment upon the scandalous result, but called for the marks for algebra. Once again the same comedy was enacted. Then came the good marks obtained from Mademoiselle, and then the last class for literature. Muriel did not ask any questions respecting these.

"You have none of you any marks for literature," she said. "Any bad marks to give in?"

There were several, and the head girl's eyebrows went up as she put them down.

"Is that _all_?" she asked sarcastically, when at last she had disposed of all the upraised hands. Then she closed the mark-book and prepared to descend from the high desk.

"I hope you are pleased with your morning's work," she said, and went out of the room, leaving a somewhat discomfited Lower Fifth behind her.

"I say! The fat _is_ in the fire if all the Sixth know about it!" said Dorothy uncomfortably.

"What a perfectly, beastly mean sneak that Miss Burton is!" exclaimed Phyllis.

"Well, all I can say is, we shall have to make things so beastly uncomfortable for her that she'll just _have_ to go!" said Jack vindictively. Then she relapsed into a rather sheepish grin. "At any rate, it is to be hoped that we shall," she said. "For we've certainly succeeded in making things beastly uncomfortable for ourselves."

A remark with which the whole form mournfully agreed.