It is sometimes very unfortunate when people take us at our own word. Lesbia, going into the cloakroom at eleven, about a fortnight after the birthday, was horrified to find her beautiful bag lying on the floor near the boot rack. It had evidently contained lunch, for it was smeared with butter, and showed plum stains at the bottom. It was indeed just the wreck of her pretty present. She picked it up, and the hot colour rushed into her face. It takes a St. Francis of Assisi to be "sweetly angered and patiently disquieted". Lesbia's anger was anything but saintly. It savoured, indeed, more of the sinner. She rushed across to where Marion was standing eating red Victoria plums, and held the unfortunate bag up by its scarlet cord. "So this is the care you take of things people make for you," she exploded. Marion looked conscious, but at once excused herself. "Well, you told me to use it," she retorted. "I never thought you'd get it into such a filthy mess as this. It's only fit for the laundry, and washing will utterly spoil it." "I'm sorry----" "Oh, don't apologize," snapped Lesbia sarcastically. "I know my poor little efforts weren't worth taking care of. I didn't put in any time over that bag. Oh, dear no!" She turned away, feeling sore and uncomfortable, and at bottom ashamed of her outburst. She knew how untidy and careless Marion was, seizing up anything that came to hand, and that the ruin of the bag was certainly by accident and not design. By some strange freak of memory an axiom of Minnie's--kind, easy-going Minnie--flashed into her mind: "It's best to take people just as they are, and then you get along with them." Marion would always be shiftless, and impulsive, and tactless; still she had her good points. "I'll forgive her--to-morrow!" thought Lesbia, cooling down a little. But to-morrow, alack! came a fresh cause of offence. The Sixth were getting up a photographic exhibition, mainly of pictures which they had taken during the holidays. Marion was the lucky possessor of an enlarging apparatus, and she very kindly offered to enlarge a photo for each of her fellow-prefects if they would bring her the films. Now, Lesbia's camera was a rather old-fashioned one and contained plates. She had taken a portrait of the Webster family having tea by the stream on a brilliant sunny day, and the negative was beautifully sharp and clear. She brought it to school packed in a flat box. Several other girls were clustering round Marion showing her their pet films. "This is at Dawlish, on the sands." "Mine's a view of Windermere." "This is a snap of our fox-terrier, Barry. It's got him absolutely perfectly." "Oh, you'll like mine! It's my baby niece, yawning in her perambulator. We think it's great." "Here's mine, old sport," said Lesbia, unpacking her treasure.