scorn; and among the mutterings of

younger ones there began to be

'Tell-tale tit,

Your tongue shall be slit,

And all the dogs in our town

Shall have a little bit!'

'I don't mind what you say,' said Winnie, firmly. I would much rather settle it among ourselves, too; but if you talk about fighting and nonsensical, unladylike things of that kind, there is nothing else to do.'

Whether Winnie would have carried her threat into execution it is impossible to say, for at that moment the Dacres' French governess did actually appear upon the scene.

The loud voices and angry faces had attracted her attention as she was walking up and down with her book, and she arrived just in time to hear Meg repeat her former insulting remark.

'Marguerite, j'ai honte de vous! Venez tout-de-suite. And before friends and foes, Meg was taken ignominiously by the hand and marched away. But I'll pay you out yet, see if I don't,' she said as she passed the passé défini girl. Winnie made no reply, and as the Dacres left the garden, they saw the interrupted game of flags proceeding as quietly as though nothing had happened.

I am afraid by this time that you thoroughly dislike Meg; and perhaps it is as well that you should. But wait a bit, and remember it is never too late to mend.

It happened that the French class took place on the day after the battle of the flags. The French class-consisting of boys and girls alike-was held that year at Mrs. West's house, on Wednesdays, at twelve o'clock, and attended by a good many children, who were by no means all known to each other. Our master was a kind old M. Lerou, who took the greatest pains with us, and made our lessons very interesting indeed. One of his favourite methods was to tell us a short story in English, and make us then and there turn it into French; or else he would tell the story in French, and make us translate it into English as he went along. If Winnie Mainwaring-for that was her real nameshone in grammar, in translation she was greatly inferior to Meg, who seemed somehow by instinct to seize upon the right words, and was always delighting M.. Lerou by the aptness of her expressions. This was not to be wondered at, as the Dacres had had French nurses and governesses from the time they could

speak; but we were all proud of Meg, and considered that her success reflected credit upon ourselves. On this particular day great excitement was caused by the announcement that there would only be one more class that summer, and that on the day on which the last class would naturally have been held there was to be, instead, an examination, on the results of which M. Lerou intended to award a prize. Only those who had not missed. attending the class more than once during the term would be eligible to compete. This was most interesting news, for anything resembling an examination was quite beyond the narrow limits of our experience. Speculation was rife among us as to the probable winner of the prize, and the frequenters of the gardens loudly expressed their hope that it might prove to be Meg.

She had not missed one class that summer, and, as I have said, she had had peculiar advantages in the way of learning French. The announcement of the coming competition was received by her with the greatest enthusiasm. There was nothing she liked better than to measure her strength against other people's; and if she should be successful on this occasion, it would in some degree outweigh the mortification of the day before, and restore the position she had lost in her own esteem. I remember we all felt a little shy about speaking to her when the class was over; for when you have last seen a person under extremely uncomfortable and awkward circumstances, you don't like to speak to them as though nothing had happened, and yet it is a little difficult to know what to say that is at once delicate and sympathetic. However, we need not have minded, for Meg began at once herself in the most unembarrassed way.

Is not this splendid?' she said, as we were putting on our things to go away. 'It will be such fun to try for the prize; and we must not let it go out of the gardens. And look here, all of you the one person who must not get it is the passé défini girl. After the way she behaved yesterday, it would be a disgrace to the gardens if she did. And she shan't-not if I have to learn Noël et Chapsal backwards by heart!'

Winnie Mainwaring was standing at no very great distance from where we were, and she must have heard this speech, of which, however, she took no kind of notice, though her dark, self-contained little face assumed an expression of contempt. After that day the unwonted spectacle of Meg walking up and down the gardens with a book in her hand was frequently preVOL. 85 (V.-NEW SERIES).

36

NO. 507.

sented to the astonished eyes of her friends. Whether she seriously contemplated the mastering of the whole French grammar, I cannot say; but certain it is that she devoted much of her spare time to its perusal.

It was on the next Tuesday morning that she was engaged in one of these studious perambulations, when, as she neared the little tool-house at the far end of the gardens, her attention was arrested by a monotonous murmuring which issued from within.

She stopped to listen, and presently could clearly distinguish the familiar sound of a French irregular verb. The door of the tool-house was shut; but Meg peeped through the tiny slit which did duty for a window, and perceived Winnie sitting upon a flower-pot that had been turned upside down, and, with fingers in ears and eyes intent upon her book, repeating her verbs with all the zest and diligence of which a mortal child is capable.

To spring to the door, lock it, take out the key, and reappear at the window was with Meg the work of a second; and not until she was a prisoner did Winnie even realise that her retreat had been discovered.

'Now,' cried Meg excitedly, dancing up and down outside'now, Miss Winnie, I can pay you out!'

'What do you mean?' asked Winnie, getting up from her flower-pot. What have you done?'

'Locked you in, to be sure!' was Meg's prompt reply. And there I mean you to stay until-until you beg my pardon for behaving so shabbily the other day, and promise to give up all claim to the big flag-ground till the very end of the world!'

'I shall certainly do nothing of the kind,' said Winnie, quietly, sitting down again and beginning to turn over the leaves of her grammar.

'Unless, to be sure,' said Meg, 'you'll come and fight it out, as though we were sensible boys, instead of poor miserable girls. Will you fight it out, Winnie? We're about the same size-and the best man to have the flag-ground for ever. I should respect you for ever if you beat me-only you shouldn't.' 'Once for all,' said Winnie, 'I can't bear, and mean to have nothing to do with your horrid, unladylike, rough, boy sort of ways. We are not boys, and we never shall be; and I think it is great nonsense to talk their sort of talk, and try to behave like them. But, at any rate, people say that boys are much more

fair than girls; so if you want to be like a boy, you'd better begin by being fair. You know you're in the wrong about this. We had a right to the ground; and nobody ought to behave like you did, whether they're boys or girls.'

'Now, you're trying to get round me by arguing,' said Meg. That's what people always do when they know it's their fault. But I never will argue,' she went on, loftily. And I don't care if you do call me names. What I care for is what people do-not what they say. Now, will you promise not to take the flag-ground again?'

'No,' said Winnie, 'I will not.'

'Then,' cried Meg, in a passion, 'you may just jolly well stay where you are!'

She threw the key into the bushes, and set off at a run, stopping, however, for a moment at Winnie's cry of 'Meg, Meg, come back, come back!'

'Well, what is it?' she said, with a glance over her shoulder. 'I suppose you know what you're doing to me?' said Winnie, with a little more colour than usual in her pale face.

Meg might have paid more attention to her words but for cries of 'Meg, Meg!' 'Marguerite, où êtes-vous?' down one of the garden walks; and, fearful that her prank might be discovered, she hurried away with a 'Know it? Yes, of course I do!' to poor Winnie, who heard her rapidly departing footsteps and Oui, oui, Mademoiselle, me voici,' followed by the heavy opening and shutting of one of the iron gates of the gardens.

A bad conscience usually makes one rather cross all round ; and Meg had not much to say to the little boys on the way home. Indeed, for the most part, she kept up a sort of undercurrent of grumbling, directed at Mademoiselle for having, as she chose to express it, 'hurried her away from the gardens before she had time to look round.'

They had nearly got home, and she was just saying something of this sort, with a secret attempt to persuade herself that, if she had not been called away, she should have let Winnie out, when Mademoiselle, her good nature sorely tried, burst out with Voyons, Marguerite, en voilà assez ! Est-ce que vous voulez renoncer à votre prix? Vous ne savez donc pas que c'est ce matin la leçon de M. Lerou?'

Meg stood stockstill, with wide-open eyes of amazement.

'Ce matin? Mardi? Mais alors

to the gardens at once!'

Oh, I must run back

This, Mademoiselle considered, was going quite too far even for 'Marguerite.' She caught Meg by the arm as she was actually setting off at a run, and, firmly refusing to hear another word, she fairly marched her into the house, and before Meg had fully understood how a note had come the night before, explaining the change of day and hour, and how it had been read aloud in the school-room, Mais vous ne faites jamais attention à rien,' and how she was not to talk bêtises, but put on her best hat, she found herself in a four-wheeler, with Mademoiselle and the boys, rattling away in the direction of Mrs. West's house. Meg did not shine at the French class that day; Winnie did not appear. That makes twice that Winnie Mainwaring's missed,' said one of the Moss boys, when the class was over. out of it. Meg, you're sure of the prize. Hurray!'

'So she's

And I remember wondering why Meg told him so crossly not to make a row in the hall. She said it was a most snobbish thing to do. That, as I said, was on the Tuesday, and the examination was to be on the Wednesday week-a most informal examination, entirely viva voce, and the prize to be awarded then and there in the presence of such mammas, elder sisters and governesses as might be able to attend. During the interval, Meg did not appear in the garden, and we supposed it was because she was too anxious about her preparations for the great day to be willing to expose herself to the temptation of playing flags. But I remember my little brother saying, in an awe-struck voice, to Claude, who did come to the gardens once or twice with his nursery-maid: 'Does Meg do lessons all day long now?' and Claude, answering, 'No, she wouldn't be let to do that. But she's always asking Mademoiselle to take us to see the horses in Rotten Row, or the shops, and so we don't have hardly any time for the gardens.'

That eventful Wednesday arrived at last, and before three o'clock the members of the French class were assembling at Mrs. West's house in Curzon Street. There was great excitement among us all, but more excited than even his pupils was M. Lerou himself. It was to be a scene after his own heart; there would be an opportunity for dramatic effect; his children would distinguish themselves; their parents would be pleased, he should be proud; the prize would be solemnly awarded, the winner crowned with a wreath of laurel, the other children battant des mains et criant huzza-vive notre ami! little speeches would be made, and compliments paid; and finally, parents, pupils, and