the next event of any special importance in the ramsays' world was mavis's birthday. she was seventeen now, and was so much taller and stronger since she had come to live in devonshire that her mother declared their old friends in the north would hardly know her. she was still more fragile-looking than merle, but her attacks of bronchitis were luckily things of the past, and she was rapidly outgrowing all her former delicacy. many things which had been prohibited before were allowed her now, and her father's present was a new bicycle and the permission to ride it. her mother gave her a sketching easel and merle a camp-stool, for painting was at present her favourite hobby, and uncle david and aunt nellie were lavish in books and music. from bevis arrived a wooden box containing a kittiwake, which he had stuffed himself, with wings outspread. there was a hook in its back so that it could be suspended by a piece of thread from the ceiling to look as if it were flying. in its beak bevis had placed a note.

"i didn't shoot it," he explained. "i know you hate to think of any one killing them. i found it dead on the shore, so thought you might just as well have it stuffed."

"i'm so glad it wasn't shot on purpose, poor dear thing!" said tender- hearted mavis. "aren't its feathers soft and lovely? i shall hang it to the beam in our bedroom, and it will always seem like a little bit of chagmouth when we wake in the mornings. it looks just exactly as if it were alive. how clever of bevis to stuff it so well."

at 'the moorings' the matter of most vital interest was the arrival of a large wooden hut, which miss pollard had bought from the government, and which was erected in a corner of the garden close to the house. now that numbers had increased so much in the school extra accommodation was urgently needed, and the new building would serve for a gymnasium, and as a room for lectures and meetings. the great matter for speculation was whether it would be finished in time for term-end festivities. miss pollard, urged on by miss mitchell, contemplated inviting parents and friends to a formal speech day, an affair upon which she had never ventured before. unless the hut was ready it would be impossible to accommodate so many people, so she hurried on the work and hoped for the best. it was a great amusement to her pupils to watch the various parts being fitted together, and to see the corrugated iron roof fastened on. they rejoiced immensely when at last a flag floated from the top.

"mr. perkins says he can undertake to have all perfectly ready by the 25th. i can send out my invitations now!" purred miss pollard.

before speech day, however, must come the inevitable examinations. everybody felt they were much more wearing in july than at christmas or easter, owing to the heat, and also to the fact that they covered the work of the whole school year, and not merely that of a single term. mavis did her utmost but had to struggle with bad headaches, and realised that she had not done herself justice. merle slogged away grimly, with ink-stained fingers and her hair tied tightly back because of the heat. she had never really taken so much pains over an examination before, and had never found herself so well prepared. quite to her surprise her brains felt clear and collected, and her mental car seemed to whizz along so fast it quite exceeded the speed limit. no other girl in the form wrote so many sheets as she did or answered such a large proportion of the questions. at the end of the week, tired, nervy, and decidedly cross, she nevertheless felt some satisfaction over the papers she had sent in. every one in the fifth had little doubt about the results, and public opinion was justified, for merle came out top in almost every subject, gaining an average of 91 per cent on the whole exam. she had expected to do well, but was quite staggered at this success, for muriel, iva, and nesta, her usual rivals, were left far and away behind. they were sporting enough to give her their congratulations.

"it means first prize, old thing! won't we give you a clap as you march on to the platform!" said iva.

miss pollard was determined to do this, her first speech day, in style; the chair was to be taken by a local magnate, and the prizes distributed by a real live professor from oxford, who was spending his vacation in the neighbourhood. there was a tremendous business moving forms and chairs into the newly-erected hut, and decorating the platform with pots of plants and ferns. all the pupils were dressed in white and wore their best hair ribbons. mavis was feeling sad and sentimental, for it was her last term. she was to leave 'the moorings' and concentrate her energies on music, and on lessons in painting from mr. castleton, which would suit her far better than the strenuous work of the sixth form. to the girls, and especially the younger ones, this first public function at school was not altogether unmixed bliss. they were obliged to sit as quiet as rows of little angels, packed tightly together on forms without backs, and to listen to interminable speeches about subjects which they only half understood, the main points of which seemed to be, however, that miss pollard and miss fanny and miss mitchell and all the teachers and all the pupils were much to be congratulated, and everybody must remember that 'rome was not built in a day.'

"nor the hut either!" whispered winnie to her chum, applying the proverb too literally. "i wish they'd seen it before the roof was on!"

"'how the creatures talk!'" quoted joyce, from alice in

wonderland. "i'm bored to tears!"

the prize-giving part was more interesting. as the names were called, each winner in turn walked up to the platform, received her book, bowed more or less gracefully, and retired. the applause was a welcome relief to the rank and file, who were tired of sitting at such exemplary attention. it was over at last, and the visitors went to be shown round the school and to be regaled with tea in the dining-room. professor hartley, in cap and gown, had crossed the garden to the hostel, and the pupils, some of them suffering from pins and needles, were free to disperse. it was the breaking-up for the day-girls, and to-morrow morning the boarders would be sent home.

"just a word with you, merle!" said miss mitchell, calling the latter into the study by herself. "i want to tell you that i'm pleased with your work. you've made an effort and shown me what you can do. next term we shall have a sixth form, and miss pollard agrees with me that it will be advisable to appoint a head girl. that position will fall to you, not only because you're top in the exams, but because we think you have fitted yourself to take it. a head girl is no use unless she can lead; i've been watching you all the year, and you've shown me lately that you understand what is expected. the school is still in an elementary stage, but it has improved immensely, and next year i trust you to do your very best for it."

"oh, thank you, miss mitchell!" gasped merle, almost too overwhelmed for words.

to be thus chosen out and selected by her idol was a most happy ending to the term, and offered golden opportunities in the coming september. it meant more to her even than her prize. she went at once to tell the good news to her sister.

"i don't like to cackle too loudly, because of muriel and nesta," said

mavis. "but i am proud of you! it's been worth the grind, hasn't it?"

"rather! though i'm yearning for the holidays. shall we go to chagmouth on saturday?"

"oh, yes! bevis breaks up to-morrow, and i expect he'll be at grimbal's farm by then. it's his last term at school as well as mine. i wonder how he feels about leaving? i promised, too, to call and see the castletons."

when the girls reached home, there was a letter on the table for mavis in clive's handwriting. they heard from the boy every now and then, though he was not a particularly good correspondent. this epistle, which had apparently been penned on sunday, was mostly a summary of cricket and anticipations of his holidays. it ended:

your affec'ate coz, clive.

p.s.—meant to send you this snap before. isn't it priceless?

the sting of a scorpion is in its tail. mavis stooped down and picked up the little photo which had fallen from the envelope on to the floor. clive had used his brownie camera at chagmouth and had promised to post them the results, but had forgotten. this solitary print represented bevis—there was no mistaking bevis—but mavis bent over it with puzzled eyes, for clasped tightly in his arms with her head laid upon his shoulder was a girl. merle, who snatched the photo away to look at it, decided her identity at once.

"why, it's romola! that's the artistic blue dress that violet made for her!"

"so it is! where's her plait, though?"

"hidden behind her, i suppose. i say! they're coming it rather strong, aren't they?"

"yes. i shouldn't have thought that of bevis!"

"no more should i!" (merle was looking annoyed.) "i'd no idea he could be so silly. i shall rag him about this, you bet!"

"i wouldn't!" (mavis's voice was very quiet.) "romola is so pretty!

perhaps he likes her!"

"well, it's the first i've seen of it. he's a sly-boots if he does. somehow it doesn't seem to fit in with bevis. i'm cross with him. when did clive take this amazing snap? i wonder he didn't send it on to us before. i think it's not worth keeping, if you ask me!" and merle, tearing the photo into bits, tossed it into the waste-paper basket.

"bevis is our friend—not the castletons'!" she added, stumping away most decidedly cross, "and if he's going in for rubbish like this with romola, he shan't call me soeurette again! he needn't think it. i'll not be a sister to romola! i declare i won't! the sneak!"

but these latter sentiments were muttered to herself, and she took good care that mavis should not overhear them.

on saturday morning merle had a bilious headache, took some breakfast in bed, and announced that she should spend the day lying in the garden. mavis also began to make excuses for not going to chagmouth, but dr. tremayne pinched her cheek, declared she looked pale, and that the drive would do her good.

"i can't be left without either of my nice little companions!" he complained. "i've got used to having you with me. besides, bevis is coming back to-day!"

"i daresay we shall see him next week some time," remarked mavis demurely. "there's no violent hurry about it."

"why, no; only—"

"nonsense, mavis! go with your uncle!" broke in mrs. ramsay. "this is the first time i ever remember you wanting to stay away from your beloved chagmouth. what's the matter with you to-day? don't be silly! put on your hat and do as you're wanted. i think these exams have thoroughly tired out both of you. you'll feel better after a little air in the car."

mother's decisions were always final, so mavis raised no more objections, particularly as uncle david was looking the least trifle hurt, and he was such a dear that she wouldn't disappoint him for worlds. he had several visits to pay that morning at houses on the way, so it was later than usual when they arrived at grimbal's farm. fortunately there were few patients waiting, and when these were disposed of, mrs. penruddock brought in lunch.

"bevis not come yet?" inquired uncle david as he lifted the dish-cover.

"no, indeed, doctor, and i'm anxious about him! his yacht's been at port sennen, having some repairs done, and he arranged to go there straight from school early this morning, and sail her round to chagmouth."

"well! the lad can handle a yacht all right."

"it isn't that! bevis knows as much about sailing as most folks. but there's a nasty sea fog come on, and just as it happens the clapper is gone out of the bell by st. morval's head. bevis is always a terrible one for hugging the coast, and i'm afraid if he doesn't hear the bell he won't quite know where he is in the fog, and he may be on the rocks before he knows they're there. i'd have told him it was gone, but there was no time. i only got his letter this morning. who'd have expected a fog like this either?"

mrs. penruddock's apple face looked quite miserable, but sounds of thumping at the back door drew her away from the parlour, and stopped any further confidences. mavis ate her lunch thoughtfully.

"is a fog worse on the sea than on land?" she asked at last.

"it is, if you can't tell where you're going. who's been fooling with the bell at st. morval's, i wonder? if the clapper has fallen out, they should have had it put in again at once. but that's just the way with them. it's nobody's business, and everybody puts it on to somebody else until there's an accident. i've no patience with them!"

when the meal was over, mavis went out to take a peep at the sea, or rather where the sea ought to be, for there was nothing to look at but a white wall of mist, long wreaths of which were blowing inland and trailing like ghosts into the town. she came hurrying back very quickly to grimbal's farm, and sought the kitchen.

"mrs. penruddock, please, may i borrow your big dinner-bell?" she asked.

"why, yes, my dear! but whatever do you want that for?"

"i'm going to take it to st. morval's head and ring it!"

"bless you! not a bad idea either! there'd be no harm done anyhow. i'd go with you if i'd the time. mind your way along that slippery cliff. pity your sister's not here to-day!"

"i shall be all right, thanks! the fog isn't so bad on land. it's quite easy to see where one's going."

grasping the big brass dinner-bell, mavis set forth, and going by a path above the farm, got out on to the cliffs. she knew the way very well, for she had often been before, and had not the slightest fear of getting lost, even if the mist should grow thicker. she walked briskly along, the track in front of her looking quite plain for several yards, though the sea below was completely hidden. she recognised many familiar points en route, the bank where the spleenwort grew, the ruined shed, a supposed relic of smuggling days, the barbed-wire fence, the group of elder trees, and the blackberry bank. when she came to the slanting gorse bushes which overhung the path, she knew she had reached the beginning of st. morval's head, and that she must be just about over the spot where the buoy was floating with its clapperless bell.

"it's the story of the inchcape rock all over again," she muttered, and sitting down on the bracken she began ringing.

it was monotonous work and tiring too. it made her arm ache, and she had to use her left hand for a while instead. she went on persistently, however, for who knew what little yacht might be venturing near the treacherous rocks below. it was an extraordinarily lonely feeling to be there on the cliff by herself, with the white mist round her, as if she were in the midst of the clouds. she would have been chilly only the exercise kept her warm. she was obliged to rest every now and then, but not for long. she did not mean to give in for some time yet. she kept repeating over and over to herself:

'the worthy abbot of aberbrothock

had placed that bell on the inchcape rock.

on a buoy in the storm it floated and swung,

and over the waves its warning rung.'

the occupation grew so monotonous that she began to feel as if she had been on the cliff for weeks. after what seemed an absolute slice out of eternity, there came a "hello!" on the path behind her. she stopped ringing and jumped to her feet.

"bevis! it's never you!"

"mavis! did you do all this for me? you trump!"

"did you hear my bell, then, on the sea?"

"of course i did, and it gave me my right reckoning. i hardly knew where i was. i might have been on the rocks without. mrs. penruddock told me about it, and i came at once to fetch you back."

"i wonder you didn't go to tell romola you were safe!"

"romola! why on earth should i tell romola?"

mavis did not reply all at once.

"only because i thought you seemed particularly interested in her!" she said at last.

bevis looked frankly puzzled, then his face cleared and he drew a small photo from his pocket.

"did clive send you one of these?"

"he did!"

"well, don't you know who the girl is? can't you see it's clive? clive, dressed up in romola's togs! those are hardly romola's boots, are they? we nearly died with laughing over it. he looked too killing for words. it was madox who took the snap with clive's camera."

mavis, examining the photo by the light of these explanations, had little difficulty in recognising her boy cousin. bevis was roaring with laughter at the joke, then he suddenly grew serious.

"mavis!" he said in dead earnest. "you never thought i'd go making such a silly ass of myself with little romola? that's not in my line at all!"

it was mavis who did the blushing.

"look here! we may as well have this out between us. if there's ever to be a mistress at the warren—and i hope there will some day—i know whom i'd choose! why, it's mavis, the one who was good to me when i'd hardly a friend in the world or a name to call myself by, who didn't despise me for being a nobody, and wasn't ashamed to walk with me through the village, and who's kept me off more rocks than she's any idea of, besides what she's done for me to-day! if i asked her some day to think it over, do you fancy she might answer 'yes'?"