"Is it necessary? She doesn't consider herself one of the Sixth." "But she is, really. It seems rather marked to leave her out." "Oh, well!" rather icily. "Ask her if you like, of course. I'm sure I don't want to keep her out of things if she cares to join in." Dorrie accordingly ran up to the studio, where Katrine was sitting putting a few finishing touches to the study of tulips upon which she had been engaged during the last week. "We're having a cocoa party at eight in our study. Awfully pleased to see you. Just our own form," announced Dorrie heartily. "Thanks very much," returned Katrine casually, "but I really don't think I shall have time to come. I want to finish these tulips." "Isn't it getting too dark for painting?" "Oh, no! The light's good for some time yet, and Miss Aubrey's probably coming upstairs to go on with her still-life study. I love sitting with her. She's most inspiring." "Comme vous voulez, mademoiselle!" answered Dorrie, retiring in high dudgeon to report to her fellow-monitresses. They were most indignant at the slight. "Cheek!" "Turns up her nose at our invitation, does she?" "She can please herself, I'm sure." "She's no loss, at any rate." "Look here!" said Dorrie. "I've got an idea. We'll pay her out for this. She's counting on Miss Aubrey going to sit with her in the studio, and having a delightful _tête à tête_. Let's ask Miss Aubrey to our cocoa party." "Splendiferous!" "Girl alive, you're a genius! Go instanter!" Dorrie hurried off to deliver her second invitation. It was more graciously received than the first. "Oh! I'm only too flattered! I shall be delighted to turn up. May I bring a contribution to the feast?" beamed Miss Aubrey. "Done Katrine Marsden for once!" chuckled Dorrie, communicating the good tidings in the study. "She'll be fearfully sick when she finds her idol has deserted her for us." "I sincerely hope she will." At eight o'clock an extremely jolly party assembled in the little room underneath the studio, all prepared to abandon themselves to enjoyment, to crack jokes, sing catches, ask riddles, or indulge in anything that savoured of fun. There were not chairs for all, but nobody minded sitting on the floor. Viola's spirit-lamp was on the table, and the kettle steamed cheerily; tins of cocoa and condensed milk and packets of biscuits were spread forth with the row of cups and saucers. Miss Aubrey, throned in a basket-chair, with girls quarrelling for the privilege of sitting near her, held a kind of impromptu court. "It's been a ripping May Day. Everybody was saying how well you'd engineered the whole thing," Viola assured her. "The folk dances were just too sweet! Those Americans who came in that big car were in raptures. They dropped half a sovereign into my box. They said the May Queen was the prettiest child they'd ever seen."