We manage our affairs better in the Transition." "Oh, thank you! Thank you!" gasped Little Flaxen, lingering a moment or two behind the others.

"You've been just great! I'll write to Dad to-night to send me some chocs, and I won't eat a single one myself.
They shall have them all.

They shall really!" With scarlet cheeks and shining eyes she was a different child from the weeping Niobe who had sat and sobbed on the steps.
"Now if I'd simply coddled her and sympathized she'd have cried a few gallons more and have been no better off," mused Irene, as her protegee danced away.

"I fancy those juniors have been fairly nasty to her, though I wouldn't tell her so.

Something ought to be done about it, but the question is 'what ?' I want to have a talk with Peachy when I can wedge in ten minutes of spare time." All evening remembrance of Little Flaxen's red eyes and white cheeks haunted Irene.