"Oho! Young America!" Clare was alert. "I didn't know you referred to Cynthia Griffiths. I interviewed the parents last week. Immensely rich! She was demure enough, but I gathered even then that she ruled the roost. Her mother was quite tearful--implored me to keep her happy for three months anyhow, while they both indulged in a rest cure abroad. She seemed doubtful of our capacities. But she was not explicit." "Cynthia is. I've heard the whole story while I tried to find out how much she knew. She's a new type. Her French and her German are perfect--and her clothes. Her bedroom is a pig-sty and she gets up when she chooses. I gather that she has reduced Miss Vigers to a nervous wreck already. Thank goodness I'm a visiting mistress! I wonder what the girls will make of her!" "Or she of them." "That won't be the question," surmised Alwynne shrewdly. "Clare, she has five schools behind her, American and foreign--and she's fifteen! We are an incident. I know. There were two Americans at my school." "It remains to be seen." Clare's eyes narrowed. "Well, what else?" Alwynne fidgeted. "I'm glad you're taking over everything again. I prefer my small kids." "Why?" "Easier to understand--and manage." Clare looked amused. "Been getting into difficulties? Who's the problem? Agatha?" "That wind-bag! She only needs pricking to collapse," said Alwynne contemptuously. Then, with a frown: "I wish poor little Mademoiselle Charette would realise it. Have you ever seen a Lower Fifth French lesson? But, of course, you haven't. It's a farce." Clare frowned. "If she can't keep order----" "She can teach anyhow," said Alwynne quickly. "I was at the other end of the room once, working. I listened a little. It's only Agatha. Mademoiselle can tackle the others. She's effective in a delicate way; but senseless, noisy rotting--it breaks her up. She loses her temper. Of course, it's funny to watch. But I hate that sort of thing. I did when I was a schoolgirl even, didn't you?" "I don't remember." But in the back of Clare's mind was a class-room and herself, contemptuously impertinent to a certain ineffective Miss Loveday. Alwynne continued, frowning-- "Anyhow, I wish you'd do something." Clare yawned. "One mustn't interfere with other departments--unasked." "Well, I ask you." Alwynne was in earnest. "Why?" "I want you to." "Why?" Alwynne blushed. "Why this championship? I didn't know you and Mademoiselle Charette were such intimates?" "It's just because we aren't. I like her, but----" "But what?" "Well--we had a row. You see--You won't tell, Clare?" Clare smiled. "She doesn't like you," blurted out Alwynne indignantly. "And I just want to show her how altogether wrong----" "What a crime! How did you find it out?" Clare was amused.