“I find,” she said, “that it’s a capital plan to read the directions for use before you actually do the thing, whatever it is. Last term I spoiled a whole packet of printing paper--photographic, you know--by not doing that. I read them afterwards and found out exactly where I’d gone wrong, which was interesting, of course, but not much real use. Sylvia Courtney rather rubbed it in. That’s the sort of girl she is.” “A most disagreeable sort,” said Miss Rutherford. “I have met some like her. In fact they’re rather common.” “I wouldn’t say disagreeable. In fact I rather love Sylvia Courtney at times. But she has her faults. We all have, which in some ways is rather a good thing. If there weren’t any faults it would be so dull for people like Aunt Juliet. You’re not a Ministering Child, I suppose?” “No. Are you? I expect you must be.” “I was once. Sylvia Courtney brought me to the meeting. We all had to do some sewing and afterwards there was tea. I joined, of course. The sub. was only sixpence, and there was always tea, with cake, though not good cake. Afterwards I found that I’d sworn a most solemn oath always to do a kind act to some one every day. That’s the sort of way you get let in at those meetings.” “You didn’t read the directions for use beforehand that time.” “No. But in the end it turned out all right. It was just before the hols when it happened, so, of course, Aunt Juliet had to be my principal victim. I wouldn’t do kind acts to Father. He wouldn’t understand them, not being educated up to Ministering Children. But Aunt Juliet is different, for I knew that by far the kindest thing I could do to her was to have a few faults. So I did and have ever since, though I stopped being a Ministering Child next term and so wriggled out of the swear.” Frank, leaning on Jimmy Kinsella, came towards them from the boat. He was bent on being particularly polite to Miss Rutherford, feeling that he ought to atone for his unfortunate blunder with the boat He took off his cap and bowed. “I hope,” he said, “that you’ve been successful in catching sponges.” “I’ve not got any to-day,” said Miss Rutherford. “I haven’t begun to fish for them. The tide isn’t low enough yet. How are you getting on with the spies? Caught any?” “Oh,” said Frank, “we don’t really think they are spies, you know.” “All the same,” said Priscilla, “the president of the War Office is out after them. At least we think he must be. We don’t see what else he can be after, nor does Father.” “Lord Torrington is to arrive at my uncle’s house to-day,” said Frank. “Then they must be spies,” said Miss Rutherford. “Not that I ever doubted it.” “That water is pretty near boiling,” said Priscilla, “What about dropping in the soup?” “Which shall we have?” said Miss Rutherford. “There’s Mulligatawny and Oxtail?”