“The thing is,” explained Gillian, “that we must build a new school for the out-liers of St. Kenelm’s, or ‘my lords’ will be down on us, and we shall be swamped by board schools.”

“Aunt Jane is frantic about it,” said Dolores Mohun.

“There’s no escape from school board worries!” exclaimed Anna.  “They helped to demolish Uncle Clement.”

“There is to be a sale of work, and a concert, and all sorts of jolly larks,” added Valetta.

“Larks!  Oh, Val!”

“Larks aren’t slang.  They are in the dictionary,” declared Valetta.

“By the bye, she has not heard the rules of the Mice,” put in Mysie.

“I’ll say them,” volunteered Valetta the irrepressible.  “Members of the Mouse-trap never utter slang expressions, never wear live birds-— I mean dead ones-—in their hats.”

“Is an ostrich feather a live bird or a dead?” demanded Anna.

“And,” said Dolores, “what of the feather screens that the old Miss Smiths have been making all the winter—circles of pheasants’ feathers and peacocks’ eyes outside a border of drakes’ curls?”

“Oh, like ostriches they don’t count, since peacocks don’t die, and drakes and pheasants must,” said Gillian.

“We have been getting ready for this sale ever so long,” said Mysie.  “Aunt Jane has a working party every Friday for it.”

“The fit day,” said Dolores, “for she is a perfect victim to other people’s bad work, and spends the evening in stitching up and making presentable the wretched garments they turn out.”

“The next rule-—” began Valetta, but Gillian mercilessly cut her short.

“You know clever people, Anna.  Do you know how to manage about our Mouse-trap book?  Our bookseller here is a school-board man, all on the wrong side, and when I tried to feel our way, he made out that the printing and getting it up would cost a great deal more than we could risk.”

“It is a pity that Uncle Lance is gone home,” said Anna.  “He could tell you all about it.”

“Could you not write to him?”

“Oh, yes, but I know he will want to see a specimen before he can make any estimate.”

It was agreed that the specimen should be forthcoming on the next occasion, and Miss Mohun coming home, and tea coming in, the conference was ended.  Anna began to unravel the relationships.

Dolores Mohun was a niece of Lady Merrifield.  She had lost her own mother early, and after living with the Merrifields for a year, had been taken by her father to New Zealand, where he had an appointment.  He was a man of science, and she had been with him at Rotaruna during the terrible volcanic eruption, when there had been danger and terror enough to bring out her real character, and at the same time to cause an amount of intimacy with a young lady visitor little older than herself, which had suddenly developed into a second marriage of her father.  In this state of things she had gladly availed herself of the home offered her at Clipstone, and had gone home under the escort of her Aunt Phyllis (Mrs. Harry May), who was going with her husband to spend a year in England.  Dolores had greatly improved in all ways during her two years’ absence, and had become an affectionate, companionable, and thoughtful member of the Merrifield household, though still taking a line of her own.