E-text prepared by Marc Hens, Suzanne Shell, and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (https://www.pgdp.net/c/) Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this file which includes the original illustration. See 20730-h.htm or 20730-h.zip: (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/7/3/20730/20730-h/20730-h.htm) or (https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/7/3/20730/20730-h.zip) For the Sake of the School * * * * * BLACKIE & SON LIMITED 16/18 William IV Street, Charing Cross, LONDON, W.C.2 17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED 103/5 Fort Street, BOMBAY BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED TORONTO [Illustration: "I felt I must speak to you" _Page_ 234 _Frontispiece_] * * * * * FOR THE SAKE OF THE SCHOOL by Angela Brazil Author of "The School on the Loch" "The School at the Turrets", &c. With Frontispiece Blackie & Son Limited London and Glasgow Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow TO THE SCHOOLGIRL READERS WHO HAVE SENT ME SUCH NICE LETTERS Contents CHAP. Page I. THE WOODLANDS 11 II. A FRIEND FROM THE BUSH 24 III. ROUND THE CAMP-FIRE 36 IV. A BLACKBERRY FORAY 51 V. ON SUFFERANCE 66 VI. QUITS 76 VII. THE CUCKOO'S PROGRESS 87 VIII. THE "STUNT" 104 IX. A JANUARY PICNIC 117 X. TRESPASSERS BEWARE! 130 XI. RONA RECEIVES NEWS 142 XII. SENTRY DUTY 156 XIII. UNDER CANVAS 170 XIV. SUSANNAH MAUDE 183 XV. A POINT OF HONOUR 194 XVI. AMATEUR CONJURING 208 XVII. A STORM-CLOUD 221 XVIII. LIGHT 233 XIX. A SURPRISE 249 FOR THE SAKE OF THE SCHOOL CHAPTER I The Woodlands "Are they never going to turn up?" "It's almost four now!" "They'll be left till the six-thirty!" "Oh, don't alarm yourself! The valley train always waits for the express." "It's coming in now!" "Oh, good, so it is!" "Late by twenty minutes exactly!" "Stand back there!" yelled a porter, setting down a box with a slam, and motioning the excited, fluttering group of girls to a position of greater safety than the extreme edge of the platform. "Llangarmon Junction! Change for Glanafon and Graigwen!" Snorting and puffing, as if in agitated apology for the tardiness of its arrival, the train came steaming into the station, the drag of its brakes adding yet another item of noise to the prevailing babel. Intending passengers clutched bags and baskets; fathers of families gave a last eye to the luggage; mothers grasped children firmly by the hand; a distracted youth, seeking vainly for his portmanteau, upset a stack of bicycles with a crash; while above all the din and turmoil rose the strident, rasping voice of a book-stall boy, crying his selection of papers with ear-splitting zeal.