"Bless you, there are plenty who do. Are you getting up?" "Yes," answered Kitty, jumping out of bed with a spring. "Good. I'll take you along to the gym for a look-round before breakfast. Be ready by a quarter to eight, won't you?" "All right," answered Kitty at once. "Where do I get water from?" "Oh, one of the juniors will get you hot water from the bathroom, if you put your jug outside your cubicle." Kitty was quite ready when Hilary knocked for admittance. By that time, the rest of the dormitory, from the noise they were making, had evidently turned out. "Half a tick," said Hilary. "I must perform my usual morning's task." She raised her voice. "Duane, are you awake?" A sleepy voice made reply: "No. 'Tisn't time to get up yet." "Yes, it is," replied Hilary firmly. "Hurry up and turn out." "What's the time?" said the same drawling voice. "A quarter to eight." "Oh well, I can just do it in ten minutes. Call me at ten to." "I'm just going. You'll be late one of these days. You know last term you were hardly ever properly dressed for breakfast." "I'll count three and jump out on the 'three.'" "Hurry up then." "One----" began the speaker with the tired voice, and paused. "Two----" A still longer pause. "Two and a half." Another pause, then: "Two and three quarters." "Oh, go on," said Hilary. "Two and seven eighths! I'm going now, anyway," and patience evidently not being her strong point, she walked out of the dormitory, throwing a "Come along, Kitty," over her shoulder as she did so. Now Kitty's cubicle was next to the one belonging to the tired individual. She had been listening to the conversation with a feeling of mingled pity and contempt, for slacking of any sort made no appeal whatever to the vigorous, active Australian girl. As Hilary walked out, Kitty's glance fell on her wet sponge, lying on the washstand. Catching it up, she sprang lightly on to the edge of the bed, caught hold of the top of the partition, and judging the whereabouts of the invisible speaker's face by careful guesswork, squirted the contents of the sponge over the partition. Apparently the shower of water found its mark, for there was the sound of a gasp and a violent creak of the bed. Kitty, judging discretion to be the better part of valour, hastily dropped the sponge and slipped swiftly out of the dormitory, catching Hilary up in the passage outside. The two walked on together. "Who's the girl you called Duane?" inquired Kitty, wondering why the unusual name sounded familiar, till, the next instant, she remembered the trunk at the station and its flaunting lettering. Wouldn't the boys at home laugh when she told them in her letter that one of her first acts in England was to squirt water over a member of the British aristocracy! "Oh, you'll soon get to know who Duane is," replied Hilary. "She's just been appointed head prefect of our house. She's in my form, the Upper Fifth."