Winona glanced anxiously at the clock as with a hard breath she paused for a moment and laid down her pen.  Her theme had taken her so long that she had only ten minutes left for the other questions.  There was no romantic side to be expressed in these, so she scribbled away half-heartedly.  Her uncertain memory, which had readily supplied quotations from Browning or Edgar Allan Poe, struck altogether when asked for such sordid details as the names of the Cabal ministry, or the history of the Long Parliament.  The bell rang, and left her with her paper only half finished.  At one o’clock the candidates were given an hour’s rest, and a hot lunch was served to them in the dining-hall.  At two they returned to their desks, and the examination continued until half-past four.  Winona found the questions tolerable.  She did fairly, but not at all brilliantly.  Her brains were not accustomed to such long-sustained efforts, and as the afternoon wore on, a neuralgic headache began, and sent sharp throbs of pain across her forehead.  It was so irksome to write pages of Latin or French verbs; she had to summon all her courage to make herself do it.  The last hour seemed an interminable penance.

At half-past four, twenty-one rather dispirited candidates filed from the room.

“Well, thank goodness it’s over!  I never want to write another word in my life.  My hand’s stiff with cramp!” exclaimed the girl with the red hair-ribbon to a sympathetic audience in the passage.

“It was awful!  I didn’t answer half the questions.  My swastika isn’t worth its salt.  I shall give it away!” mourned the owner of the mascot.

“They expected us to know so very much; we should be absolute encyclopaedias if we had all that pat off at our fingers’ ends!” sighed the girl with the fair pigtail.

“How did you get on?” Winona asked the ruddy-haired girl, who was wiping her spectacles nervously.

“Oh, I don’t know.  It’s so hard to tell.  I answered most of the questions, but of course I can’t say whether they’re right or wrong.  Wasn’t the Latin translation just too horrible?  I yearned for a dictionary.  And some of the French grammar questions were absolute catches!”

“We went on too long,” said Winona.  “It would have been much better to spread the exam, over two days.”

“Do you think so?  I’d rather have ‘sudden death’ myself.  It’s such a relief to feel it’s finished.  It would be wretched to have to begin again to-morrow.  I hardly slept a wink last night for thinking about it.  I’m going to try and forget it now.”

Winona nodded good-by to her fellow candidates, and took her leave.  How many of them would she see again, she wondered, and which among all the number would have the luck?

“Certainly not myself,” she thought ruefully.  “I know my papers weren’t up to standard.  I believe that red-haired girl will be one.  She looked clever!”

Winona had spent the preceding night with Aunt Harriet, who offered to keep her until the result of the examination should be published, but the prospect of spending a week of suspense at Abbey Close was so formidable, that she had begged to be allowed to return home, excusing herself on the plea that she would like to be with Percy during the remainder of his holidays.  It was a very subdued Winona who reached Highfield next afternoon.