XX. THE HIGHWAY WOMAN 263 XXI. LESBIA DECIDES 275 Illustrations Facing Page "IT'S WONDERFULLY GOOD" _Frontispiece_ KINDLY INTEREST 128 NOT A TRACE OF DERRICK 200 SHE SQUEEZED THROUGH THE FRAME WITHOUT MUCH DIFFICULTY 240 LOYAL TO THE SCHOOL CHAPTER I New Lamps "The fault I find with the Kingfield High School," proclaimed Kathleen Wilcox, squatting on the top of a boot locker, and putting on a new pair of patent leather house shoes with a deliberate eye to their effect upon her surrounding friends and foes, "the fault I find--yes, I _do_ find fault and I _shall_, Lesbia Ferrars, though you _are_ the oldest pupil and take the school under your wing! You needn't make round eyes at me like that! I don't care twopence for your glares! Well, as I was saying--and I _won't_ be interrupted--the fault I find with the Kingfield High School is that it's not nearly go-ahead enough. If you ask me I think it's dropping behind the times!" "Dropping behind the times!" echoed Phillis Marsh in open-mouthed amazement. "How far do you want it to go?" retorted Lesbia Ferrars, metaphorically picking up the glove and accepting combat. "It's as decent as any other school and nicer than most. Some people never know when they're well off! If you went to the King's College now you'd have twice the home work. Perhaps that's what you're hankering after? They're go-ahead in the matter of work, if you like, at King's!" "No more home work for me thanks," put in Etta Pearson hurriedly. "Kathleen may take my share of it and welcome if her tastes run that way." Kathleen leisurely put down two elegant feet from the locker, reviewed them with a glance of conscious satisfaction, then, grasping mental sword and buckler, condescended to explain herself. "What a set of lunatics you are!" she said compassionately. "You're not bright, any of you, or you'd have twigged my meaning at once. Of course I don't want any more home work piled on our shoulders. I--of all people--to suggest that! Great Scott! What I _do_ mean is that it's just lessons, lessons, lessons, eternally lessons, and not enough outside things. Some schools have all sorts of jolly clubs, and we've hardly a single decent society except the G. G. I. S. And what's that good for?" "Good for nothing!" snorted Calla Wilkins scornfully. "Well, it's all there is anyhow, and though some people may like to sit doing crochet while a teacher drones away reading an improving book, it's not in my line. I call it dull." "Dull as ditch-water!" agreed Etta Pearson, with unction.