"No, it wasn't exactly her fault--it was Spot really. He routed out the boots, and began barking and worrying them, and Miss Beverley rushed up to see what he'd got--she thought he'd caught an otter or a water-rat. When she saw it was boots--well----" "She knew she'd caught us," finished Diana. "She took the boots straight to Miss Todd, and Toddlekins blew her whistle and counted us over like sheep to find who was missing. Then she asked who'd seen you last, and if anyone had given you leave to wade. She dragged it all out of Geraldine. I don't think Gerry would have told on her own." "Spot!" said Diana, turning reproachful eyes on that panting specimen of the canine race. "I used to think you a dinky little dog, but I'm out of friends with you now. It's a real mean trick you've played us. Oh! you needn't come jumping up on me and licking my hand. What possessed you to unearth those boots? 'Bounds' for a whole fortnight! And I wanted to go to Glenbury on Wednesday. It's too disgusting for words! Vi, d'you think if I looked an absolute hallowed saint all Sunday, and Monday, and Tuesday, Miss Todd would let me go to Glenbury? My name's down for the exeat, you know." Violet regarded Diana for a moment or two as if making mental calculations. "You couldn't do it," she decided at last. "You couldn't look the least tiny, weeny atom like a saint if you tried till doomsday. Saints ought to be thin and wan, with straight noses and fair hair parted in the middle. You're rosy and substantial, and your nose isn't straight, and your hair's too brown, and as for your eyes--they've a wicked twinkle in them the whole time. No, my good girl, whatever else you may do, you won't succeed in looking saintly." "Well, I guess I've got some bounce in me, certainly," agreed Diana. "But I thought perhaps if I went about on tiptoe and whispered, and"--hopefully--"I could keep my eyes half-shut, couldn't I?" Violet shook her head decisively. "That twinkle would ooze out of the smallest chink, and besides, even if you managed to look a saint, that wouldn't influence Toddlekins. You don't know her yet. Once she says a thing she sticks to it like glue. _She_ calls it necessary firmness in a mistress, and _we_ call it a strain of obstinacy in her disposition. In the old days we could get round Mrs. Gifford, but now Toddlekins rules the show, you may as well make up your mind to things and have done with it. What she says is kismet." "Why do you want to go to Glenbury?" asked Jess. "Oh! just a reason of my own," evaded Diana. "You'll very likely get an exeat the week after," consoled Violet. "It would be no use to me then," said Diana dismally.