"She doesn't! She doesn't, indeed! I do all my prep, by myself." "Can you actually swear on your honour she's never once helped you?" said Annie Edwards. "On my hon--" began Gwen, then stopped and stammered lamely. "Well, at least, there was once--" The recollection had struck her of the evening when she had caught the rat in the hen-coop. She had been so upset and flurried on that occasion that she had certainly applied to Winnie for assistance with a passage that she could not have otherwise prepared. "Once!" sneered Annie. "Oh, no doubt! Everybody in the Form knows how it is you get on so well with your work!" "I get no help at home!" declared Millicent self-righteously. "Oh, drop drivelling, and let Gwen alone! She's got to tell me these lines," said Netta. "What do I care how she prepares her work? Come, Gwen, ma-vourneen, be a real friend!" As Gwen translated the passage Netta wrote it rapidly down in pencil, and even Annie and Millicent, in spite of their condemnations of assisted preparations, seized their books and followed the words carefully. "A particularly nasty bit--I could never do it if I tried half a year. Thanks awfully!" said Netta, slipping the paper inside her _AEneid_. "Netta, you're not going to--" "Never mind what I'm going to do. My concerns are my own," returned Netta airily. "I'm an unlucky person, and I'm sure to get the worst piece if there is one. It's Kismet." Gwen's desk was close to Netta's, and when the Virgil class began she could not help noticing the latter pop the scrap of paper on her knee under cover of a pocket handkerchief. Miss Douglas followed no fixed order in the Form; she called on any girl she wished to translate, choosing from back or front desks with strictest impartiality. As Netta had predicted, the difficult passage fell to her lot. To the surprise of almost the whole Form she came off with flying colours. Though Annie and Millicent had strong suspicions, only Gwen had seen the little piece of paper hidden under Netta's handkerchief. At lunch time she flew out on the subject. "Look here, Netta," she began grimly, "helping you a little is one thing, but I'm not going to act crib for you again; so just don't think it." "What do you mean?" gasped Netta sharply. "What I say. You'd better prepare your own Virgil next time." "Aren't you going to help me any more?" There was an unpleasant look in Netta's eyes. "Not when you write it out and crib." "It was only one scrap. Don't be horrid, Gwen!" "I like things square, and they've not been quite straight lately. I'm going to put a stop to it, so I give you warning." "Won't you tell me just the hard bits?" "Not a single sentence."