Though physically they were rather weary, the girls were sorry when their week's strawberry picking came to an end. It was found that when their canteen bills had been paid, and railway fares subtracted, they had each earned on an average a little over five shillings; some who were quicker pickers exceeding that amount, and others falling below. They decided to pool the general proceeds, and present the sum cleared--L4, 16_s_. 8_d_.--to the Hospital for Disabled Soldiers as their "bit" towards their country. They went back to school feeling highly patriotic, and burning to boast of their experiences to those slackers who had chosen the parental roof for their holidays. "I'd have loved it!" protested Fauvette, "but I really did have a very nice time at home. My cousin was back on leave. He's in the Flying Corps, and he's six feet three in his stockings--and--well--I've got his photo upstairs, if you'd like to look at it." "Oh, we're all accustomed to gipsies and poachers now, and don't think anything of airmen!" returned Morvyth nonchalantly (she was apt to sit on Fauvette). "You should see my snapshots of the strawberry pickers!" "And mine!" broke in Cynthia Greene. "By the by, I wrote my name and school address on a card, and packed it inside one of my strawberry baskets. I put on it: 'Will the finder kindly write to a blue-eyed, fair-haired girl who feels lonely?'" "Cynthia, you didn't!" exploded the others. "I did--crystal! Why shouldn't I? Lonely soldiers beg for letters, and it's as lonely at school as in barracks any day, at least I find it so!" "Suppose somebody takes you at your word and sends an answer?" "I heartily and sincerely hope somebody will. It would be absolutely topping!" CHAPTER XIV Concerns Cynthia "Look here!" said Hermie to Raymonde two days later, when the latter was helping the monitress to put away the wood-carving tools; "what's the matter with Cynthia Greene? She's behaving in the most idiotic fashion--goes mincing about the school, and sighing, and even mopping her eyes when she thinks anybody's looking at her. What's she posing about now?" "She says she feels lonely--and fair-haired and blue-eyed--at least that's what she wrote inside her strawberry basket," volunteered Raymonde. "What in the name of the Muses do you mean?" Raymonde explained. The monitress listened aghast. "Well, I call that the limit!" she exploded. "The little monkey! Why, Gibbie would slay her if she knew! Such an atrociously cheeky, unladylike thing to do, and putting her address here at the Grange! Bringing discredit on the school! I don't suppose whoever finds it will take any notice." "She's hoping for an answer," said Raymonde. "I believe she's just yearning to be mixed up in a love affair." "At thirteen!" scoffed Hermie. "The silly young blighter! I'd like to shake her!"