A new institution in the school this term was the foundation of a library.  It had been a pet project of Margaret’s ever since her appointment as head prefect.  Just before the Christmas breaking up she had called a general meeting and begged everybody after the holidays to present at least one contribution.

“It may be a new book or an old one,” she had explained, “but it must be really interesting.  Please don’t bring rubbish.  Give something you would enjoy reading yourself and can recommend to your friends.”

The response to her appeal had been greater than she anticipated.  Nobody failed to comply, and some of the girls brought several books apiece.  A start was made with three hundred and forty-one volumes, which was regarded as a most creditable beginning.  For the present they were piled up in the prefects’ room until shelves had been made to receive them.  Miss Bishop had given the order to the joiner, but owing to the war it might be some time before the work was finished.

Meanwhile Margaret decided that the books ought to be catalogued and labeled, so that they would be quite ready when the bookcases arrived.  She cast about for helpers in this rather arduous task, and her choice fell upon Winona, who happened to have a spare half-hour between her classes on Tuesday and Thursday afternoons.  Winona, immensely flattered, accepted the responsibility with glee, and was put to work under the “General’s” directions.  She thoroughly enjoyed sorting, dusting, pasting on labels, and making alphabetical lists.

“I shouldn’t mind being a librarian some day in a big public library,” she assured Ellinor Cooper, her fellow-assistant.

“You’d have to be quicker than you are at present, then,” remarked Margaret dryly.  “They wouldn’t think you worth your salt if you spent all your time reading the books.  Buck up, can’t you? and get on!”

At which Winona guiltily shut “Shirley” with a bang and turned her attention to the paste-pot.

While Margaret was cultivating the intellectual side of the school, Kirsty was carefully attending to her duties as Games Captain.  Her work among the juniors prospered exceedingly.  They were taking to hockey with wild enthusiasm and gave evidence of considerable promise.  As most of them were free at three o’clock, they got the chance of playing almost every day.  Kirsty was extremely anxious that these practices should be properly supervised.  She was too busy herself to take them personally, so she was obliged to delegate the work to anybody who had the spare time.

“The girls I want most are all at classes or music lessons,” she lamented.  “Not a single one of the team’s available.  Winona Woodward, I’ve been looking at your time-table, and find you’ve two vacant half-hours.  Wouldn’t you like to help?”

“Like!  I’d sell my birthright to do it!” gasped Winona.  “But I’m fearfully sorry; I’m cataloguing for Margaret!”