Ingred sat for a moment or two, watching the petals blow from the last roses on the bush that hung over the worn stone wall. The old Abbey lay on one hand, the buildings of the new school on the other. They seemed the very personification of ancient and modern. "The world can't stand still," she thought, "and if it's got to move on, I suppose I'd better help to give it a shove in the right direction." Walking into the hostel, she met Nora and Fil walking arm-in-arm. "Hullo, Ingred! Have you read the paper about the Rainbow League?" asked Fil eagerly. "I think it's ripping! Nora and I are both going to join." "And so am I," said Ingred, as she passed by them, and went upstairs. CHAPTER VII Hockey Ingred signed her name next morning as a member of the Rainbow League, and received a neat notebook with a Japanese design of purple irises stencilled on the cover. Though the new society was supposed to be run entirely by the girls themselves, it was much encouraged at head-quarters, and special allowances were made for its activities. Miss Burd sent for a book on _Toy-making at Home_, and gave the Handicraft classes an indulgence to concentrate for the present on the construction of little windmills, carts, dolls' furniture, trains, jigsaw puzzles, and other articles described in its fascinating pages. Such a number of girls had joined the League that many willing hands were at work, and at Christmas they hoped to have a sale of the best of the toys in aid of a fund for War Orphans, and to send the remainder to be given away as treats for poor children. Lispeth was highly enthusiastic, and full of future schemes. "We'll do toy-making this term," she decreed, "and then next term we can think of something else. In the spring and summer we'll have a Posy Union to send bunches of flowers to sick people. We can't do anything of that, of course, during the winter, unless some of you like to put down bulbs; it would be lovely to give a pot of purple crocuses to a little crippled child! I think making the toys is just A1. I want to start a manufactory!" "Barring the glue," said Susie Wakefield. "It smells simply abominable when it boils over. Why doesn't somebody bring out a patent for sweet-scented glue?" "Sweet-scented glue! You Sybarite!" "Why not? They could make it out of all those delicious gums and resins you read about in books on the Spice Islands, instead of--by the by, what is glue made of?" "Horses' hoofs, I believe, but I fancy it's better not to ask what it's made of. I don't think your gums and resins would do the deed so well. We'd best stick to good old-fashioned glue." "That's just what I complained of--I _do_ stick to it, or rather it sticks to me. I get it all over my hands, and smears down my overall." "Then you're an untidy workwoman, old sport, and I can't do anything for you except recommend 'Gresolvent.'"