Ulyth felt a little shy of meeting her class-mates after their discovery of the very unflattering description she had written of them, but the girls were good-natured and did not bear malice. They treated the whole affair as an intense joke, and even took to calling one another by the assumed names of the story. They composed extra portions, including a lurid description of Ulyth herself, illustrated by rapid sketches on the black-board. The disappointed authoress took it with what calm she could muster. She knew they meant to tease, and the fewer sparks they could raise from her the sooner they would desist and let the matter drop. It would probably serve as a target for Addie's wit till the end of the term, unless the excitement of the newly formed ambulance class chased it from her memory. The Woodlanders were trying to do their duty by their country, and all the girls were enthusiastically practising bandaging. "I wish we'd some real patients to bind up," sighed Merle one day, as V B took its turn under Nurse Griffith's instructions. "I'd be sorry for them if they were left to your tender mercies," retorted Mavis, who had been posing as patient. "My arm's sore yet with your vigorous measures." "What nonsense! I was as gentle as a lamb." "A curious variety of lamb then, with a wolf inside." "I believe The Woodlands would make a gorgeous hospital," suggested Addie hopefully. "When we're through our course we might have some real patients down and nurse them." "Don't you think it! The Rainbow won't carry ambulance lessons as far as that!" CHAPTER VI Quits Ulyth, brushing her hair before the looking-glass one morning, hummed cheerily. "You seem in spirits," commented Rona, from the washstand. "It's more than I am. Miss Lodge was a pig yesterday. She said my dictation was a disgrace to the school, and I'd got to stop in during the interval this morning and write out all the wrong words a dozen times each. It's too sickening! I'd no luck yesterday. Phyllis Chantrey had my book to correct, and her writing and mine are such opposite poles, we daren't try it on." "Try what on?" asked Ulyth, pausing with the brush in her hand. "Why, the exchange dodge, you know." "I don't know." "Don't you take dictation in V B? Well, in our form we get it twice a week, and Miss Lodge makes us correct each other's books. We make it up to try and exchange with a girl whose writing's pretty like one's own; then, you see, we can alter things neatly, and allow full marks. It generally works, but it didn't yesterday." Ulyth's face was a study. "You mean to tell me you correct each other's mistakes!" "Why not?" said Rona, not the least abashed. "Miss Lodge never finds out." Ulyth collapsed into a chair. What was she to do with such a girl? "Don't you know it's the most atrocious cheating?" "Is it? Why, the whole form does it," returned the Cuckoo unconcernedly.