"Oh, nothing in particular. I was just taking a roam round the school, that's all." "You've no business to roam into the senior room. Keep to your own quarters. We can't have juniors coming in here!" "I'm not a junior!" "Well, intermediates are quite as bad, if not worse!" Diana beat a retreat, for the supper-bell was ringing. She marched into the dining-room with a defiant twinkle in her eyes, and meeting Wendy, could not refrain from whispering: "Done 'em brown for once! Hilary'll get the surprise of her life to-morrow." "Sh! Sh!" warned Wendy too late. Geraldine, who was exactly behind, and who had evidently overheard, glared at the couple, but forbore to speak. Indeed there was not time for her to do so, for the girls were taking their seats, and Miss Todd was waiting to say grace. It is undignified for a head prefect to take too much notice of the chance remarks of intermediates, so Geraldine let the matter pass, and, whatever her private thoughts might be, did not revive the subject after supper. CHAPTER XX A Tangled Plot Loveday and Diana went to bed that evening just as usual. They performed their customary hair-brush drill, twisted Diana's light-brown locks in curl-rags, and plaited Loveday's flaxen mane in two long braids, folded their clothes neatly, read their Bible portions, said their prayers, and blew out the candle. Then they lay chatting quietly till Miss Beverley came on her nightly round of dormitory inspection. "Only a few weeks more and we shall be saying good-bye to the ivy room," said Loveday. "I shall be back in Liverpool; and where will you be, Diana?" "Crossing the Atlantic, I hope. Dad's had our names down for passages for ever so long, and they told him our turn might come early in August. We're crazy to get home again." "I don't wonder! But _how_ I'll miss you! I shall want heaps of letters." "Rather! And so shall I. I'll want to know what you're doing." "Answering advertisements about posts as nursery governess," said Loveday bitterly. "No luck ever comes to me. I had a sort of wild idea that if I won the prize for that essay Uncle Fred might think it worth while sending me somewhere to train; but I _know_ I shan't get it now. Hilary read us bits out of hers, and it's just splendid--far better than mine. I'm not in the innings." "Oh, Loveday, what a shame! The prize means so much more to you than to Hilary." "I know it does. She'll win the maths prize too, and the Latin one." "It doesn't seem fair she should get everything. I wonder if she'd hold back her essay so as to give you a chance?" "Not she!" "But if----"