Gwen groaned in spirit as she went to bed that night. "I shall never hear the last of that wretched fifteen shillings!" she thought "I feel like Mr. Caudle in the _Curtain Lectures_, when he'd lent a five-pound note to a friend. That money of mine was to have bought Christmas presents, and boots for Johnnie Cass, and a new tennis racket, and paid for the swimming, and I don't know what else, according to my family's ideas. Oh, dear! Being poor's a hateful business! I wish Dad were Archbishop of Canterbury, instead of only Curate-in-charge of Skelwick Bay!" CHAPTER XIV Gwen meets Trouble "There's a sickening author called Virgil, Don't I wish I were chanting his dirge--ill! As a door-nail he's dead Yet his works live instead, And to me they're a regular scourge--ill!" So sang Netta, banging down her copy of _AEneid I_ and _II_ with a force that almost dissevered its cover and made the desk ring. "I call it absolute sickening nonsense," she continued energetically. "Why in the name of all common sense should we girls in this modern twentieth century be expected to bother our precious heads over antiquated old rubbish that would be far better consigned to decent burial? What's the use of it, I want to know?" "'An admirable training for the intellect', my dear! to quote Thistles," said Annie Edwards. "According to her theory you ought to feel your mind sprouting at every fresh page, and sending out shoots of wisdom." "Sprouting, indeed! Just the other way!" grunted Netta. "Latin has a paralysing effect upon my brain. Instead of sharpening me it deadens my faculties. When I've been trying to construe a page of Virgil, my intellect feels a pulp." "Then the obvious moral is, don't try!" yawned Millicent Cooper. "I don't." "No more you do, you old slacker!" "Why should one try when one can scrape through without?" "Not an easy thing if Thistles puts you on a difficult bit! Have you made any sense out of this part? It's uncommonly stiff." "Not I--I shall throw myself as usual on Gwen's mercy. Come here, Gwendolen mine, that's a sweet angelic cherub, and interpret these abominable lines!" Gwen came rather reluctantly. Of late Netta had grown into the habit of applying to her for help with her extremely ill-prepared work, and the habit was assuming proportions that Gwen did not like. At first it had only been a word or two, then an odd sentence, but it was rapidly developing into a demand for a translation of the whole lesson. "Oh, I say, Netta, you make me a regular henchman!" she objected. "Why should I act as providence to you continually?" "Because you know the lesson, my hearty, and I don't. Ergo, it is your duty and privilege to impart your information to me." "Don't always see my privileges." "Then you ought. If you're helped, you ought to help others." "I'm not helped!" "Oh, Gwen! I'm sure Grinnie helps you at home!" broke out Millicent Cooper.