Give it up? That meant a good deal. For had not Cara written home about it and told her father and mother what a delightful and original part she was taking? And had not Mary L'Estrange delighted her mother with the story? that she was to be--she--Mary--Jephtha's daughter? that noblest maid of ancient story. And had not Cara's brothers and sisters and father and mother and grandfather and grandmother and great-grandfather and great-grandmother all been interested at the thought of the girl appearing as Iphigenia in the play? For the thing had been settled, and nobody for a single moment had supposed that the ideal Helen of Troy would refuse to take her part. Now, with great difficulty, they had found a possible Helen; but, lo-- and behold! the little cat that she was--she meant to blackmail them! They must pay her for it. They must do it secretly; then she would act. All the rest of her life she would be a sort of little reptile, not worth touching. But, if they wanted her to help them on that crucial evening, they must each hand her a five-pound note. Oh, well--they could get it. Susanna's mother had never yet refused her darling anything in the way of money; and Cara's great-grandfather was rather pleased than otherwise when his favourite great-grandchild approached him on the subject of gold. And Mary L'Estrange was rich, too, and so was Annie Leicester. It was but to write a note each to that member of the family who was most easily gulled, and the money would be in Penelope's possession. But then it was such a horrid thing to do! and they had to keep it a secret from Mrs Hazlitt; for Mrs Hazlitt would be furious, if she thought any girl in her school could act like Penelope, or could have confederates like Mary and Cara and Annie and Susanna. "I, for one, will have nothing to do with it," repeated Cara, many times. At first, as she uttered these words, her companions agreed with her, and considered that they, too, could not and would not speak on the subject to any of their relations. But, strange as it may seem, as the swift minutes of recess rolled by, they became silent--for each girl was, in her heart, composing the letter she would write to parent or guardian or great-grandfather, in order to secure the money. "There is no doubt," said Susanna, at last, "that she is awfully clever and can throw herself into it, if she pleases. For Nora Beverley might look somewhat like a stick, but no one could ever accuse Penelope of looking like that. She is so awfully wicked, you know--that is the way I should describe her face--so wicked and so untamed, and--oh, there! if we gave her the money, she would do it, but I never did hear of a girl trying to blackmail her companions before."