A fortnight passed by, and the girls were beginning to forget about it a little. The snow had melted, and hockey practice was uppermost in their minds, for the match between St. Githa's and St. Elgiva's would soon be due, and they were anxious for the credit of their own hostel. Just at present the playing-fields loomed larger than the trenches. St. Elgiva's team was not yet decided, and each hoped in her innermost heart that she might be chosen among the favoured eleven. Marjorie had lately improved very much at hockey, and had won words of approval from Stella Pearson, the games captain, together with helpful criticism. It was well known that Stella did not waste trouble on unpromising subjects, so it was highly encouraging to Marjorie to find her play noticed. Golden visions of winning goals for her hostel swam before her dazzled eyes. She dreamt one night that she was captain of the team. She almost quarrelled with Chrissie because the latter, who was a slack player, did not share her enthusiasm. One Monday morning Marjorie woke up with a curious sense of impending trouble. She occasionally had a fit of the blues on Mondays. Sunday was a quiet day at Brackenfield, and in the evening the girls wrote their home letters. The effect was often an intense longing for the holidays. On this particular Monday she tried to shake off the wretched dismal feeling, but did not succeed. It lasted throughout breakfast in spite of Chrissie's humorous rallyings. "You're as glum as an owl!" remarked her chum at last. "I can't help it. I feel as if something horrible is going to happen." Marjorie's premonition turned out to be justified, for, as she was leaving the dining-hall after breakfast, Miss Norton tapped her on the shoulder, and told her to report herself at once to Mrs. Morrison. Wondering for what particular transgression she was to be called to account, Marjorie obeyed, and presented herself at the study. The Principal was seated at her desk writing. She allowed her pupil to stand and wait while she finished making her list for the housekeeper and blotted it. Then, taking an envelope from one of her pigeonholes, she turned to the expectant girl. "Marjorie Anderson," she began sternly, "this letter, addressed to you, arrived this morning. Miss Norton very properly brought it to me, and I have opened and read it. Will you kindly explain its contents?" The rule at Brackenfield, as at most schools, was that pupils might only receive letters addressed by their parents or guardians, and that any other correspondence directed to them was opened and perused by the head mistress. Letters from brothers, sisters, cousins, or friends were of course allowed if forwarded under cover by a parent, but must not be sent separately to the school by the writer. Marjorie, in some amazement, opened the letter which Mrs. Morrison gave her. It was written on Y.M.C.A. paper in an ill-educated hand, and ran thus:-- "DEAR MISS,