The Jolliest School of All   By: Angela Brazil (1868-1947)

by

ANGELA BRAZIL

Author of "The Luckiest Girl in the School," "The Princess of the School," "A Popular School Girl," "Schoolgirl Kitty," "Marjorie's Best Year," etc.

A. L. Burt Company Publishers New York Published by arrangement with Frederick A. Stokes Co. Printed in U. S. A. Copyright, 1922, by Frederick A. Stokes Company All Rights Reserved

DEDICATED TO

THE MANY CHARMING AMERICAN GIRLS WHOM I HAVE MET

AND TO

THOSE UNKNOWN SCHOOLGIRLS OVER THE ATLANTIC TO WHOM THIS LITTLE BOOK CARRIES MY HEARTIEST GREETINGS

[Illustration: "'YOU MEAN THINGS!' RAGED PEACHY"

Page 124 ]

CONTENTS

chapter page

I. Off to Italy 1 II. The Villa Camellia 16 III. Hail, Columbia! 27 IV. A Secret Sorority 41 V. Fairy Godmothers, Limited 52 VI. Among the Olive Groves 66 VII. Lorna's Enemy 81 VIII. At Pompeii 93 IX. Reprisals 113 X. The School Carnival 126 XI. Up Vesuvius 141 XII. Tar and Feathers 156 XIII. Peachy's Pranks 174 XIV. The Villa Bleue 190 XV. Peachy's Birthday 213 XVI. Concerning Juniors 230 XVII. The Anglo Saxon League 243 XVIII. Greek Temples 257 XIX. In Capri 272 XX. The Cameron Clan 287 XXI. The Blue Grotto 303

THE JOLLIEST SCHOOL OF ALL

CHAPTER I

Off to Italy

In a top story bedroom in an old fashioned house in a northern suburb of London, a girl of fourteen was kneeling on the floor, turning out the contents of the bottom cupboards of a big bookcase. Her method of doing so was hardly tidy; she just tossed the miscellaneous assortment of articles down anywhere, till presently she was surrounded by a mixed up jumble of books, papers, paint boxes, music, chalks, pencils, foreign stamps, picture post cards, crests, balls of knitting wool, skeins of embroidery silk, and odds and ends of all kinds. She groaned as the circle grew wider, yet the apparently inexhaustible cupboards were still uncleared.

"Couldn't have ever believed I'd have stowed so many things away here. And, of course, the one book I want isn't to be found. That's what always happens. It's just my bad luck. Hello! Who's calling 'Renie'? I'm here! Here! In my bedroom! Don't yell the house down. Really, Vin, you've got a voice like a megaphone! You might think I was on the top of the roof. What d'you want now? I'm busy! "

"So it seems," commented the fair haired boy of seventeen, sauntering into his sister's room and taking a somewhat insecure seat upon a fancy table, where, with hands in pockets, he regarded her quizzically. "Great Scott, what a turn out! You look like a magician in the midst of a magic circle. Are you going to witch the lot into newts and toads? Whence this thusness? You won't persuade me that it's a fit of neatness and you're actually tidying. Doesn't exactly seem you , somehow!"

"Hardly," replied Irene, with her head inside a cupboard. "Fact is, I'm looking for my history book. I can't think where the wretched thing has gone to. School begins to morrow, and I haven't touched my holiday tasks yet; and what Miss Gordon will say if I come without those exercises I can't imagine. I'm sure I flung all my books into this cupboard, and, of course, here's the chemistry, which I don't want, but never so much as a single leaf of the history. Don't grin! You aggravate me. I believe you've taken it away to tease me. Have you? Confess now! It's in your pocket all the time?"