Betty was still drowsily and happily “perhapsing” on the subject under the shade of one of the great old trees in the grounds, when the prefect whose duty that afternoon it was to preside over the juniors’ quiet hour gave the signal for them to rise. “I say, Betty, tell us. We’ve not had a single chance to ask you about yesterday afternoon till now. You never said a word about it in the dormitory; but the other girls know. There’s plenty of time while we get our letter-writing things. You can even tell us while we write them. Miss Drury says we can write letters under the trees this afternoon because it’s too hot indoors.” “I’m not going to tell _anything_ while I write letters,” said Betty with startled conviction. Sunday afternoons were packed full, as she rightly considered, since there were five anxious, loving folk at home to be reassured concerning her health and happiness, and regaled with tit-bits of weekly information. “And besides,” she continued hurriedly, “there’s nothing to tell.” “There is.” Mona and Rene were convinced on that point. “About the boy whose face you were patching up when Drina and Maud came along. They said it showed you’d make a good Guide. And however came you to be in the road at all?” finished up Mona. [Illustration: “And that Robby-boy saw me climbing out.”] “Anybody in the world, not only Guides,” said Betty with rising colour, “would help a boy with a cut cheek, I should trust and hope--especially when he was frightened, and seeing that he was sort of queer, you know. When Drina and Maud came along, though, it was _they_ who helped him more than me.” “They know First Aid, being senior Guides, of course,” put in Mona informatively. “And Drina anyway, being head of the Foxgloves, has heaps of badges. She would know simply _anything_! It happens that she knew who the boy was. It was just Robby--old Granny Beaver’s boy. I know him too, quite well; they call him a ‘natural.’ We often get hot water from that cottage in the holidays when we go for picnics at home.” “He was dreadfully frightened, whoever he was,” said Betty again; “but I think he was brave too.” “Brave _and_ frightened?” said Rene. “Well, anyway Drina told Eve--for I heard her--that when they came up you were mending his cheek; and he was crying.”