When at last everything had been tidily set in its right place, and a servant had carried the empty box to the boxroom, Miss Coleman took Sylvia to the playroom, and, giving her a book, told her she might read until her companions came to join her. The girls of the third class did preparation and practising until seven, after which they were allowed half an hour's recreation until supper. They had the playroom to themselves, as the little ones had gone to bed by that time, and the elder girls had a separate sitting-room of their own. Precisely as the clock struck seven Linda Marshall, Hazel Prestbury, Connie Camden, and Nina Forster came tearing in. "I thought we'd find you here," cried Linda. "We're just through prep., but I don't know my history in the least. Do you, Hazel?" "Not a morsel. Miss Arkwright will scold to-morrow. It's dreadfully hard, though; I don't suppose anybody will know it properly." "Except Marian," said Nina. "Oh, yes, Marian! She'll scrape through somehow. She always does. Look here, Sylvia! If you're clever, I wish you'd take down Marian Woodhouse. We're quite tired of seeing her always top." "She's so conceited about it," said Connie Camden. "She thinks no one else can do anything but herself," said Nina Forster. "Yes, do try, Sylvia," said Linda; "it would be lovely if you got above her. It would do her ever so much good." "Oh, do!" pleaded the others. "Why don't you try yourselves?" asked Sylvia. "Oh, we can't; it's no use!" said Connie; "but you look clever, and I'm sure you'll be able to learn things. She needn't think she's going to have it all her own way this term, because----" "Hush, she's here!" said Hazel quickly, as the door opened, and Marian came in, carrying her music case, followed shortly afterwards by Gwennie and Jessie Ellis. "What shall we play to-night?" asked Connie, who had gone rather red. "I don't think she heard," she whispered to Hazel. "Word-making," said Marian decisively. "Here's the box." "Oh no!" exclaimed Nina and Hazel, "that's a stupid game. We don't like it at all." "Yes, you do. Don't be silly. Come along." "I vote for telegrams," suggested Linda. "No!" cried Marian. "Yes!" cried the others in such overwhelming majority that Marian had to give way, though she looked anything but pleased. Pencils and pieces of paper were collected, the eight girls seated themselves round the table, and each set to work to concoct a telegram the words of which must commence with twelve letters read out at random, in the order in which they were given. The letters were: T, C, M, I, C, D, C, I, W, E, A, B. They proved a little puzzling to fit together, but after much nibbling of pencils, and knitting of brows, everybody managed to get something written, and Marian volunteered to read them out. The first happened to be Sylvia's. She had put: "Tell Charley Mother ill. Cook dead. Come immediately. Will explain all. Bertha."