“And then--” the head girl’s voice broke in on Betty’s thoughts. There was quite a joyous sound in Sybil’s tone, as though she had something joyous to say--“it was Gerry who thought of a way.” The eyes of Mona and Rene turned enviously and wonderingly towards Gerry: Gerry’s eyes were fixed on Sybil. Sybil, addressing her remarks to Betty alone, with her arm still round Betty’s waist, went on,-- “It would be nice, we thought, in so very many ways for you to be attached to the Daisies. Gerry and Mona and Rene, you see, are all Daisies; and you share their room. You are nearly the youngest girl at St. Benedick’s, too, and are likely to be in the lowest class, of course; and you will find several Daisies there. Of course, _any_ girl in the company would help you--or they wouldn’t be worth their salt as Guides--but it _is_ nice and friendly to work together with one’s own patrol. Well, then--” Sybil stopped for a moment. “After our meeting to-night,” she went on, “Gerry stopped to speak to me”--Sybil gave Gerry a quick but very friendly smile--“and she said that she had thought of a way of linking you on with the Daisies. It sounded such a good idea when I heard it; but, of course, I had to speak to Miss Carey first. For she, you see, Betty, is head of the Guides as well as headmistress of the school. I went straight to her; and Miss Carey agreed with Gerry and me that it is a splendid idea. You, Betty, are to be the _mascot_ of our patrol!” “_There!_” shouted Gerry, dancing about like a dimpled dervish. “A ‘mascot’?” said Betty, smiling but in a half-bewildered fashion. Mascots were lucky things, she knew; but-- Everybody liked mascots, of course. But how could _she_ be one? “Lots of regiments in the war had mascots,” said Sybil. “And companies of Guides have them, too, sometimes. A patrol mascot is a special pet of the patrol to which it belongs always. Not that a mascot is usually a girl, of course. I’ve never heard of a little girl being a mascot before. That’s where Gerry’s good idea came in! Well, Betty, what do you say to it?” Sybil gave her a friendly little shake. “I’d--simply--love--to be--it,” said Betty, gulping. “But what would I have to _do_?”