For the Sake of the School   By: Angela Brazil (1868-1947)

BLACKIE & SON LIMITED 16/18 William IV Street, Charing Cross, LONDON, W.C.2 17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW

BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED 103/5 Fort Street, BOMBAY

BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED TORONTO

[Illustration: "I felt I must speak to you"

Page 234

Frontispiece ]

FOR THE SAKE OF THE SCHOOL

by

Angela Brazil

Author of "The School on the Loch" "The School at the Turrets", &c.

With Frontispiece

Blackie & Son Limited London and Glasgow Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow

TO THE SCHOOLGIRL READERS WHO HAVE SENT ME SUCH NICE LETTERS

Contents

CHAP. Page

I. THE WOODLANDS 11

II. A FRIEND FROM THE BUSH 24

III. ROUND THE CAMP FIRE 36

IV. A BLACKBERRY FORAY 51

V. ON SUFFERANCE 66

VI. QUITS 76

VII. THE CUCKOO'S PROGRESS 87

VIII. THE "STUNT" 104

IX. A JANUARY PICNIC 117

X. TRESPASSERS BEWARE! 130

XI. RONA RECEIVES NEWS 142

XII. SENTRY DUTY 156

XIII. UNDER CANVAS 170

XIV. SUSANNAH MAUDE 183

XV. A POINT OF HONOUR 194

XVI. AMATEUR CONJURING 208

XVII. A STORM CLOUD 221

XVIII. LIGHT 233

XIX. A SURPRISE 249

FOR THE SAKE OF THE SCHOOL

CHAPTER I

The Woodlands

"Are they never going to turn up?"

"It's almost four now!"

"They'll be left till the six thirty!"

"Oh, don't alarm yourself! The valley train always waits for the express."

"It's coming in now!"

"Oh, good, so it is!"

"Late by twenty minutes exactly!"

"Stand back there!" yelled a porter, setting down a box with a slam, and motioning the excited, fluttering group of girls to a position of greater safety than the extreme edge of the platform. "Llangarmon Junction! Change for Glanafon and Graigwen!"

Snorting and puffing, as if in agitated apology for the tardiness of its arrival, the train came steaming into the station, the drag of its brakes adding yet another item of noise to the prevailing babel. Intending passengers clutched bags and baskets; fathers of families gave a last eye to the luggage; mothers grasped children firmly by the hand; a distracted youth, seeking vainly for his portmanteau, upset a stack of bicycles with a crash; while above all the din and turmoil rose the strident, rasping voice of a book stall boy, crying his selection of papers with ear splitting zeal.

From the windows of the in coming express waved seventeen agitated pocket handkerchiefs, and the signal was answered by a counter display of cambric from the twenty girls hustled back by an inspector in the direction of the weighing machine.

"There's Helen!"

"And Ruth, surely!"

"Oh! where's Marjorie?"

"There! Can't you see her, with Doris?"

"That's Mamie, waving to me!"

"What's become of Kathleen?"

One moment more, and the neat school hats of the new comers had swelled the group of similar school hats already collected on the platform; ecstatic greetings were exchanged, urgent questions asked and hasty answers given, and items of choice information poured forth with the utmost volubility of which the English tongue is capable. Urged by brief directions from a mistress in charge, the chattering crew surged towards a siding, and made for a particular corridor carriage marked "Reserved". Here handbags, umbrellas, wraps, and lunch baskets were hastily stowed away in the racks, and, Miss Moseley having assured herself that not a single lamb of her flock was left behind, the grinning porter slammed the doors, the green flag waved, and the local train, long overdue, started with a jerk for the Craigwen Valley.