"It was ever so difficult, though," continued Winnie. "We couldn't do it anywhere else except in the cloakroom, and we didn't know how to get you there. It was Joyce's idea to take Nita's post-card album away. Oh, how she and Alison screamed! I haven't got over it yet." Winnie was still hinnying and dabbing her eyes with a rather phosphorousy pocket handkerchief. "Look here, now," said Nesta, "we've had enough of this. You mustn't try any tricks on the maids." "Oh, just on Bella! It would be such a stunt to stand in the housemaid's cupboard and let her find me when she goes upstairs." "No!" decreed Nesta. "It's dangerous to frighten people. Bella may have a weak heart, and in any case she'd be certain to drop her jug of drinking-water. I'm a senior and you juniors have got to do what I say. No, Winnie! It's no use pulling faces and nudging Joyce. I mean it. I'm no tell-tale, but if I find either of you trying on this rag again I shall just march straight off and fetch Miss Fanny. So you know what to expect. There!" CHAPTER XI Round the Fire Miss Pollard and Miss Fanny liked to have an individual knowledge of each of their pupils, and as they did not yet know the Ramsays very well they asked them to tea one day. So after school Mavis and Merle stayed behind and washed their hands, and went with the boarders into the dining-room, and ate scones and honey and home-baked cake, and felt rather shy and hardly spoke at all, although they were both sitting close to Miss Pollard, who made most noble efforts at conversation. When tea was over, those girls who were due to practise departed to the several pianos, and began a kind of musical combat of scales and studies. The others collected round the fire in the recreation-room. Preparation had been put off on account of the visitors, and Miss Pollard had announced that she and Miss Fanny were coming in for half an hour's chat or fun. "You must decide what you'd like to do," she said. "Ask Mavis and Merle what are their favourite games. Do they know 'adverbs'? It must be something you can all play." Standing in front of the fire everybody proposed something different, and nobody wanted anybody else's suggestion. Matters seemed likely to go rather lamely till Mamie had a really sensible idea. "Let's ask Miss Pollard to tell us a Devonshire story instead of playing games." "Does she know any Devonshire stories?" said Merle quickly. "Heaps and heaps. She says she learnt them from the old people about Durracombe, when she was a little girl, and her father was vicar. She's written most of them down. She has them in a manuscript book. We want her to get it published some day, because they're so topping. They're all about Devonshire pixies and witches and charms and things." "I'd love to hear one." "So would I," added Mavis, "I'd like it far better than playing a game, if you others don't mind." "Oh, it's you visitors who are to choose."