“Mummy, Baa, have you heard the news?” cried a slim dark-haired girl, dashing across the lawn towards the tree under which her mother and sister were having tea.

“No, Rosemary, and whatever it is you’ve no right to be late for tea,” declared Mrs. Daynton, trying to speak firmly. “Poor Minty’s been kept waiting because you’ve forgotten the time.”

“Sorry, Mummy,” apologised Rosemary perfunctorily. ‘I honestly meant to be early, but I heard at the Post Office that Bramley Towers was let at last, and I went to see if Faith knew anything about it. They always seem to know everything at the Rectory.”

And did she?” asked seventeen-year-old Barbara, with no great show of interest.

“Yes, she did,” Rosemary answered quickly. “And you needn’t go all Head Girlish and pretend you’re not interested, Baa,” she went on crushingly. “You’ll be as concerned as anyone, only more so, when you know what’s going there and how they’ll affect St. Ann’s and us and everything.”

“Really, Rosemary, your style isn’t exactly a credit to Miss Cornish,” admonished Mrs. Daynton, with an amused lift of the eyebrows.

“Oh, don’t blame St. Ann’s and the poor old Pasty, Mummy,” Rosemary cried. “The dear old show’s had to take some nasty knocks lately, and this’ll about finish it off, I should think.”

“What on earth do you mean, Ros?” asked Barbara quickly. “How can the ownership of Bramley Towers affect St. Ann’s?”

“Very much, my esteemed and revered sister, when the new owner is the Headmistress of a school, and no less a school than Vraimont.”

“Vraimont!” exclaimed Barbara, upsetting her tea in her astonishment. “What on earth do you mean, kid?”

“I mean that Vraimont is coming to the Towers. That fire they had must have done more damage to the school than was at first thought. The Towers is a wonderful old place. If only St. Ann’s could have gone there we’d have had every chance to be cock school of Franbridge. As it is we’ll just sink into oblivion and be buried in the ashes of the past. We’d better spend our last term in collecting money for glorious wreaths to beautify our passing.”

“Don’t be such a little ass,” snapped Barbara. “St. Ann’s will just have to pull up her socks, that’s all. No more shirking. But all the same, I wonder why a school of the type of Vraimont is coming to a small place like this.”

“From what Faith told me the Headmistress wanted room to expand,” burst out Rosemary. “Evidently she—like Miss Palgrave at the High—thinks this is a growing place, with a good sprinkling of suitable elite to swell Vraimont’s ranks. It’s all very well for you to say we can pull up our socks, Baa, and succeed, but how can our measly sixty girls fight hundreds?”

“I don’t know. It’s awful,” agreed Barbara in low tones. “Poor old Pasty! I think I’ll go and see her after tea, Mummy. She treats me more as a friend and responsible being than as an ordinary Head Girl.”

“Aren’t Head Girls usually responsible beings?” teased Rosemary, her teeth biting into a chocolate cake.

“You pipe down, kidney, or I’ll fry you with the bacon for breakfast,” came the swift retort. “But this is no time for joking. Honestly, Mummy, I’m worried. Poor old St. Ann’s! If Vraimont really is coming to the Towers it may mean that Miss Cornish will lose some of her star pupils. Mary Haversleigh wants to win a scholarship to Cambridge, I know, and she’d stand a better chance at Vraimont. It might pay her people to send her there for a term to get one. And the Elmshirsts are sure to leave if there’s a more expensive school they can attend without being boarders. Not that they are much loss, but their fees are. Many kids who would have come to St. Ann’s are going to the new High, and the exclusive set are as good as Vraimontians already.”

“Perhaps they won’t take day girls at Vraimont,” suggested Mrs. Daynton. “Some of those—er—select places only have boarders.”

“No such luck,” groaned Barbara. “Vraimont is exclusive and select enough, and the fees are colossal, but it takes day girls.”

“Mummy, is something worrying you? You don’t seem very interested in the awful news, and yet the Pasty’s one of your best friends and I thought you’d be terrifically het up about Vraimont. 1What’s the matter?”

“Matter?” Mrs. Daynton gave a little start. Aren’t you imagining things, Rosemary,” she parried, not too successfully. “I—I am interested, and grieved for St. Ann’s.”

“I believe the infant’s right,” said Barbara, studying her mother’s face carefully. “You do look worried and as though you’re keeping something from us. What is it? Have you had an upsetting letter from the solicitors? Ever since Daddy died you’ve been bothered a bit financially, I know, but never seriously worried. Is there some fresh trouble you’re trying to hide?”

Mrs. Daynton flushed, but before she could answer, Araminta, the Daynton’s elderly fat maid, came waddling towards them.

Please, madam, will you see the lady from the school?” she burst out. “She’s called, and brought that ugly great dog with ‘er. Poor Pushkin is terrified, though I’ve shut ‘er in the kitchen out of ‘arm’s way. Miss Cornish seems awful anxious and upset about something, if I may say so,” and Araminta fixed Rosemary with an accusing eye.

‘No, it’s not me this time, Minty, but I’ll go and fetch Miss Cornish and Churchill out here, shall I, Mummy?”

Without waiting for permission, Rosemary sped towards the house, and Araminta, hugging the large silver Queen Anne teapot to her ample bosom, followed in her wake.

In a few minutes Miss Cornish, St. Ann’s dignified Headmistress, joined the group at the tea table under the trees. She greeted Mrs. Daynton and Barbara quietly, but it was obvious that she was upset. She sank wearily into the chair Rosemary had pushed forward for her, and closed her eyes for a moment.

“It is wonderfully peaceful here,” she murmured, opening them and smiling at Mrs. Daynton. “I hope you will forgive this invasion, but Churchill insisted on coming, and his will is even superior to a headmistress’s! I envy you this charming garden.”

They talked commonplaces until Araminta had brought out a fresh supply of tea and another plate of her home-made scones—special favourites with Miss Cornish. But directly Araminta had left the garden, giving the placid though panting bulldog, Churchill, a wide berth, Miss Cornish turned to her hostess.

“Have you heard the news?” she asked.

“About Vraimont!” Mrs. Daynton answered. “Yes, Rosemary told us just before you came. I’m so sorry. I hope it won’t affect St. Ann’s too badly.”

“I fear it will,” said the Headmistress sadly.

“Already I have received notice for three of my pupils, and the parents of two of the new girls I expected for next term have decided that Vraimont has more to offer. If only I had room for more boarders at St. Ann’s it might be possible to carry on, but as things are I doubt if I can manage it for long.”

“Of course you will, Miss Cornish,” burst out Rosemary impulsively. “You can’t let St. Ann’s just fizzle out. Oh, I know you forgot I was here,” she grinned mischievously. “We must just get new pupils till you have no room for more, and then enlarge the premises for a further influx. In between we must do something to put ourselves on the map. It shouldn’t be difficult.”

The others, including Churchill, laughed.

“Said quickly it sounds quite easy,” agreed Miss Cornish,” but I fear it won’t be so simple in reality. How do you propose getting new pupils, Rosemary?”

Rosemary looked slightly crestfallen.

“Can’t we canvass like they do at elections?” she said, brightening. “Surely what’s respectable for M.P.s would be all right for St. Ann’s. Or would it be infra dig to go hawking for pupils? What is it, Mummy? You’ve an idea! I can see if in your eyes. Do tell us.”

Mrs. Daynton flushed and gave a self-conscious little laugh.

“I was just wondering if our misfortune and Miss Cornish’s could be amalgamated to our mutual advantage,” she declared.

“What on earth do you mean, Mummy?” asked Barbara with a frown. “Our misfortune? Then Ros was right and there is something wrong. Why have you kept it to yourself?”

“Because I wanted time to think things out before you two overwhelmed me with suggestions.

I only heard this morning that some of our investments are doing badly, and in consequence either I must do something to earn more money, or you two must leave St. Ann’s.”

Silence greeted this statement. Rosemary was the first to recover herself, but she still sounded bewildered when she spoke.

“I don’t see how our leaving St. Ann’s will help Miss Cornish. At the present moment she’ll hardly want to lose even such a black sheep as me.”

“What about the alternative, Rosemary? Am I so incapable of earning money?” questioned Mrs. Daynton with a laugh.

“I—I don’t mean to be rude, Mummy,” cut in Barbara, “but what could you do?”

“Yes, Mummy, Baa’s right,” cried Rosemary. “What could you do?”

“Run a hostel for Miss Cornish,” announced Mrs. Daynton dramatically. “Don’t you think that would be a splendid idea, Miss Cornish?”

Both girls turned to see how their Headmistress was taking such an astounding suggestion, and at the expressions on their faces the mistress laughed.

“Don’t look so bewildered, girls,” she teased. “If your mother is seriously proposing to turn Trees into a hostel for me, it may mean St. Ann’s can carry on. I take it you are serious, Mrs. Daynton?”

“Certainly,” came the swift answer. “I have always known this house was far too large for us, only I hated the thought of leaving it. The girls love Trees, too, and in some ways it is very convenient. It would need very little altering to take six or eight boarders, and it might—as I said before—help both Miss Cornish and us. We arc close to St. Ann’s, and that would be an asset. If a gate was put at the end of our garden leading into the lane, and another gate leading into St. Ann’s grounds from further along the lane, it would be almost as good as being in the same building.”

“I think it’s a perfectly scrummy idea,” cried Rosemary ecstatically. “I never imagined you had such a brain, Mummy. I couldn’t have thought of anything better myself. I’ve always longed to be a boarder, and now I’m to have my wish granted at last. I am, aren’t I, Miss Cornish?

“Well, Rosemary, this is a very big decision to make without much careful thought and discussion,” came the Head’s quiet answer. “I’ll admit I think it has possibilities, but there are many pros and cons to be weighed, aren’t there, Mrs. Daynton?”

“Of course, but if, as I believe you said, you could take more boarders if only you had room to house them, I think any normal difficulties can be overcome.”

“Mummy, may I sleep in a dormy with other girls, and may I choose the names of the rooms, and who shall we have in charge of us, and will there be proper rules, and——”

“1 think, Rosemary, you had better take Churchill for a walk while your mother and I talk things over,” said Miss Cornish quietly but firmly. “Your poor cat has been shut in quite long enough, and from what Araminta said Pushkin won’t be allowed out while Churchill is in the garden.”

Rosemary rose obediently to her feet, but then suddenly paused.

“I’ve a wizard idea,” she cried, “a simply super effort. Would you like to hear it?”

“Yes, if you’ll be quick and go off with Churchill,” sighed Mrs. Daynton. “What is it?”

“Well,” said Rosemary, sitting down again, “I’ll explain. I won’t be long, Churchill darling, so just sit and wag your tail a bit longer. It’s about the San, Miss Cornish. Ours at St. Ann’s is new and awfully big, isn’t it? Usually we have very little illness, so why not take over the San and have big dormies there—it should house quite twenty boarders—and make Trees the new San? We’ve no near neighbours to object, and if I can be a proper boarder up at the School, Matron shall have my lovely little room here I”

No one spoke, and Rosemary looked first at Miss Cornish and then at her mother.

“Don’t you think it’s a grand idea?” she questioned anxiously. “St. Ann’s would stand a good chance of carrying on if we could get a lot more boarders, wouldn’t it, Miss Cornish?”

“I think so, Rosemary, but new boarders don’t grow on blackberry bushes. Still, I have had various enquiries, and your idea is not a bad one. We will certainly consider it, though I hardly think your mother will want to run a sort of hospital, even with Matron’s help. Besides, what would Araminta say? Would she flourish in an atmosphere of measles or influenza?”

“Minty’d do almost anything to get rid of me for a bit,” chuckled Rosemary. “I’m sure she’d think weeks without me would more than make up for occasional bouts of sickness!”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t like being a boarder once you were one,” suggested Miss Cornish. “You wouldn’t have your week-ends free for cycling with Faith or visiting friends or cinemas. You might quickly regret your choice.”

“I shouldn’t,” declared Rosemary stoutly. “I’d love to be a proper schoolgirl. Day girls are only half alive. It’s a rotten life really, something and nothing. We’re tolerated but not accepted. Barbara as Head Girl doesn’t feel it so much, perhaps, but I’m only a Fourth Former and to me it means everything.”