"scratch, scratch, scratch, scratch went the old black hen! every fowl that scrapes in the barn can scratch as well as your pen!"

so sang rona, bounding noisily one afternoon into no. 3, room 5, and popping her hands from behind over ulyth's eyes as the latter sat writing at a table near the window.

"what are you always scratching away for? can't you finish your work at prep.? why don't you come downstairs and play basket-ball? you're mighty studious all of a sudden. what have you got here?"

ulyth flushed crimson with annoyance, and turned her sheets of foolscap hastily over to hide them from her room-mate's prying eyes.

"you're not to touch my papers, rona! i've told you that before."

"well, i wasn't touching them. looking's not touching, anyway. what are you doing? it's queer taste to sit scribbling here half your spare time."

"what i was doing is my own concern, and no business of yours."

"now you're riled," said the cuckoo, sitting[pg 67] down easily on her bed. "i didn't mean any harm. i always seem sticking my foot into it somehow."

ulyth sighed. nobody in the school realized how much she had to put up with from her irrepressible room-mate, whose hearty voice, extraordinary expressions, and broad notions of fun grated upon her sensitive nature. rona did not appreciate in the least the heroic sacrifice that ulyth was making. it had never occurred to her that she might be placed in another dormitory, and that she only remained on sufferance in no. 3. she admired ulyth immensely, and was quite prepared to take her as a model, but at present the copy was very far indeed from the original. the mistresses had instituted a vigorous crusade against rona's loud voice and unconventional english, and she was really making an effort to improve; but the habits of years are not effaced in a few weeks, and she still scandalized the authorities considerably. ulyth could tolerate her when she kept to her own side of the bedroom, but to have meddlesome fingers interfering with her private possessions was the last straw to her burden of endurance.

"do you understand?" she repeated emphatically. "you're not to touch my papers at all!"

"all serene! i won't lay a finger on them—honest—sure!" returned the cuckoo, chanting her words to the air of "swanee river", and drumming an accompaniment on the bedpost. "what d'you think stephanie called me just now? she said i was an unlicked cub."[pg 68]

"oh, surely she didn't! are you certain?"

"heard her myself. she said it to my face and tittered. you bet i'll pay her out somehow. miss stephanie radford needs taking down a peg. oh, don't alarm yourself, i'll do it neatly! there'll be no clumsy bungling about it. well, if you won't go down and play basket-ball i shall. it's more fun than sitting up here."

as the door banged behind rona, ulyth heaved an ecstatic "thank goodness!" she sat for a few moments trying to regain her composure before she recommenced the writing at which she had been interrupted. the manuscript on which she was engaged was very precious. she had set herself no less a task than to write a book. the subject had come to her suddenly one morning as she lay awake in bed, and she regarded it as an inspiration. she would make a story about the woodlands, and bring in all the girls she knew. it was no use struggling with a historical plot or a romance of the war—she had tried these, and stuck fast in the first chapters; it was better to employ the material close at hand, and weave her tale from the every-day incidents which happened in the school. so she had begun, and though she floundered a little at the difficulty of transferring her impressions to paper, she was making distinct progress.

"i'd never dare to have it published, of course," she ruminated. "still, it's a beginning, and i shall like to read it over to myself. i think there are some rather neat bits in it, especially that shot[pg 69] at addie and stephie. how wild they'd be if they knew! but there's no fear of that. i'll take good care nobody finds out."

when to make time to go on with her literary composition was the difficulty. it was hard to snatch even an occasional half-hour during the day. where there is a will, however, there is generally also a way, and ulyth hit upon the plan of getting up very early in the morning and writing while rona was still asleep. the cuckoo never stirred until the seven o'clock bell rang, when she would awake noisily, with many yawns and stretchings of arms, so ulyth flattered herself that her secret was absolutely safe.

where to hide the precious papers was another problem. she did not dare to put them in any of her drawers, her desk would not lock, and her little jewel-box was too small to contain them.

the fireplace in the bedroom had an old-fashioned chimney-piece that was fitted with a loose wooden mantel-board, from which hung a border of needlework. it was quite easy to lift up this board and slip the papers between it and the chimney-piece; the border completely screened the hiding-place, and, except at a spring-cleaning, the arrangement was not likely to be disturbed. ulyth congratulated herself greatly upon her ingenuity. it was interesting to have a secret which nobody even guessed. she often looked at the chimney-piece, and chuckled as she thought of what lay concealed there.

the days were rapidly closing in now, and the[pg 70] time between tea and preparation, which only a few weeks ago was devoted to a last game of tennis or a run by the stream, was perforce spent by the schoolroom fire. it was only a short interval, not long enough to make any elaborate occupation worth while, so the girls sat knitting in the twilight and chatting until the bell rang for evening work.

one afternoon, when tea was finished, ulyth, instead of joining the others as usual, walked upstairs to put away some specimens in the museum. she passed v b classroom as she did so, and heard smothered peals of mirth issuing from behind the half-closed door.

"what are they doing?" she thought. "i believe i'll go and see." but catching rona's laugh above the rest, she changed her mind, walked on, and bestowed her fossils carefully in a spare corner of one of the cases. meanwhile, the group assembled round the fire in v b were enjoying themselves. the room was growing dusk, but, seated on the hearthrug, addie knighton could see quite sufficiently to read aloud extracts from a document she was perusing, extracts to which the others listened with thrilling interest, interspersed with comments.

"'the girls of the oaklands'," so she read, "'were a rather peculiar and miscellaneous set, especially those in the lower fifth. scarcely any of them could be called pretty—'" ("oh! oh!" howled the attentive circle.) "'one of them, valerie chadford, imagined herself so, and gave[pg 71] herself fearful airs in consequence; she was very set up at knowing smart people, and often bragged about it.'" ("i'll never forgive her, never!" screamed stephanie.) "'the twins, pearl and doris, were fat, stodgy girls, who wore five-and-a-halfs in shoes and had twenty-seven-inch waists.'" ("oh! won't merle and alice be just frantic when they hear?") "'but even they were more interesting than nellie clacton, who usually sat with her mouth open, as if she was trying to catch flies.'" ("does she mean me?" gasped mary acton indignantly.) "'florence tulliver was inclined to be snarly, and often said mean things about other people behind their backs.'" ("i'll say something now!" declared gertrude oliver.) "'and annie ryton was——'" but here addie broke off abruptly and exploded.

"go on! go on!" commanded the girls.

"it's too lovely!" spluttered addie. "o—ho—ho! so that's what she thinks of me, is it?"

"read it, can't you?"

"here, give the paper to me!"

"no, no! i'll go on—but—i didn't know my eyes were like faded gooseberries, and my hair like dried seaweed!"

"has she described herself!" asked stephanie.

"i haven't come to it yet. oh yes! here we are, farther on: 'our heroine, morvyth langton, was an unusually——'"

but here addie stopped abruptly, for a blazing little fury stood in the doorway.[pg 72]

"addie knighton, how dare you? how dare you? give me that paper this instant!"

"no, no! it's much too interesting. let go! don't be silly! how can you? oh, what a shame!" as ulyth in her anger tore the manuscript across and flung it into the fire.

"whew! now you've gone and done it!" whistled rona.

ulyth was holding down the last flaming fragment with the poker. when it had expired she turned to the guilty circle. "who took my papers from my bedroom?"

her voice was sharp, and her eyes fixed full on rona.

"i didn't touch them. i never laid so much as a finger on them," protested the cuckoo.

"but you told someone where they were?"

rona winked in reply. yes, alas! winked consciously and deliberately. (it was well for her that miss moseley was not in the room.)

"i knew you'd got something there," she admitted. "were you such an innocent as to think i never saw you scribbling away hard in the early mornings? why, i was foxing! i used to watch you while i was snoring, and nearly died with laughing because you never found me out."

if eyes could slay, ulyth's would have finished rona at that moment. but addie knighton, whose suspension of mirth had been merely a species of temporary paralysis, now relapsed into a choking series of guffaws, in which the others joined boisterously.[pg 73]

"i can't—get—over—seaweed—and faded gooseberries!" crowed addie hysterically.

"i don't catch flies with my open mouth!" shouted mary acton, suspending her knitting in her indignation.

"will somebody please measure the twins' waists?" bleated christine.

"i didn't say it was meant for any of you. if the cap fits, put it on. listeners hear no good of themselves, and no more do people who read what isn't intended for them. it serves you all right, so there!" and ulyth flounced out of the room.

she ran straight up to her bedroom, and burst into tears. it was such a tragi-comedy ending to her literary ambition. she would rather the girls had been more indignant than that they had laughed so much.

"i'll never write another line again," she resolved; and then she thought of the binding she had always intended to have on her first published book, and wept harder.

"ulyth," said the cuckoo, stealing in rather shamefacedly, "i'm really frightfully sorry if you're riled. i didn't know you cared all that much about those old papers. i told addie, as a joke, and she went and poked them out. i think they were fine. it was a shame to burn them. can't you write them over again?"

"never!" ulyth replied, wiping her eyes. "rona, you don't realize what damage you've done. there! oh yes, i'll forgive you, but if you[pg 74] want to keep friends with me, don't go and do anything of the sort again, that's all!"

ulyth felt a little shy of meeting her class-mates after their discovery of the very unflattering description she had written of them, but the girls were good-natured and did not bear malice. they treated the whole affair as an intense joke, and even took to calling one another by the assumed names of the story. they composed extra portions, including a lurid description of ulyth herself, illustrated by rapid sketches on the black-board. the disappointed authoress took it with what calm she could muster. she knew they meant to tease, and the fewer sparks they could raise from her the sooner they would desist and let the matter drop. it would probably serve as a target for addie's wit till the end of the term, unless the excitement of the newly formed ambulance class chased it from her memory. the woodlanders were trying to do their duty by their country, and all the girls were enthusiastically practising bandaging.

"i wish we'd some real patients to bind up," sighed merle one day, as v b took its turn under nurse griffith's instructions.

"i'd be sorry for them if they were left to your tender mercies," retorted mavis, who had been posing as patient. "my arm's sore yet with your vigorous measures."

"what nonsense! i was as gentle as a lamb."

"a curious variety of lamb then, with a wolf inside."

"i believe the woodlands would make a[pg 75] gorgeous hospital," suggested addie hopefully. "when we're through our course we might have some real patients down and nurse them."

"don't you think it! the rainbow won't carry ambulance lessons as far as that!"