What happened at her own home nobody ever knew. Miss Pollard called and had a long talk with Mrs. Earnshaw, the result of which was that Opal was sent away for a few weeks to stay with an aunt, and arrangements were made at once to place her at a boarding-school after Easter. In justice to her it must be chronicled that she apologized to her godmothers, and said she was really sorry, but they were wise enough not to try the risky experiment of letting her return to The Moorings. She was too old for so small a school, and needed strict discipline, and the pressure of a high moral standard among girls of her own age. At Brackenfield College she would not find her "fiblets", as she called them, applauded or tolerated, and she would have to be straight and honest if she wanted to win golden opinions. In spite of her many lapses from the code of honour, there were elements of good in Opal, and under the influence of straightforward girls such as Dona Anderson and Ailsa Donald, who were at present leading spirits at Brackenfield, she was likely to make a fresh start and retrieve her past. The Moorings, freed from the shadow of her bad example, seemed a different school. Iva Westwood was appointed head girl, and filled the office conscientiously. The juniors, who took their colour from their elders, soon dropped certain unpleasant practices, and were square in their work. Miss Pollard and Miss Fanny also, feeling they had been too slack and trustful, kept a tighter hand over things, so that cheating and shirking were no longer possible as of yore. In respect of favouritism they had learnt their lesson, and became strictly impartial. "It hardly pays to be a boarder nowadays," mourned Aubrey Simpson. "We're all treated so exactly alike." "And a good business too," snapped Edith Carey. "I always said it was time we had a turn. I like things to be fair all round, without anybody getting special privileges. The school's been nicer this last fortnight than it has ever since I came here. I used to detest Miss Fanny, but I'm beginning almost to like her now." "Though she _is_ making a horrible crusade about punctuality," groaned Maude, who, as usual, was late for everything. "Just fancy! She actually made me go to drawing-class without my pencils because I couldn't find them." "Poor old sport! Buck up! Buy a pencil with a ring at the end and cable it on to you so that you won't lose it. You could wear it round your neck like a baby's comforter." "It wouldn't be much use at drawing when I want an 'H.B.', a 'B', and a 'B.B.'," grumbled Maude, who had small sense of humour and rarely saw a joke.