It began with a company of ten-year-olds who, with pencil boxes and drawing books, were being escorted by Althea Riley, one of the prefects, along the corridor to the studio.

Hitherto, by dint of judicious curbing, they had always walked two and two in decent line and had refrained from prohibited conversation.

To-day they surged upstairs in an unseemly rabble, chattering and talking like a flock of rooks or jackdaws at sunset.

It was in vain that Althea tried to restore order, her efforts at discipline were simply scouted by the unruly mob, who rushed into the studio helter-skelter, took their places anyhow, and only controlled themselves at the entrance of Miss Godwin, the art mistress.
Althea, flushed, indignant, and most upset, sought her fellow-prefects.
"Shall I go and complain to Miss Burd ?" she asked.
"Um--I don't think I should yet," said Lispeth a little doubtfully.

"You see, Miss Burd has given us authority and she likes us to use it ourselves as much as we can, without appealing to her.