"Move on, please!" said the teacher, marshaling the little crowd round
the door. "Will those who have seen Miss Bishop kindly go along the
corridor."

Several girls who had been standing in a knot made a sudden bolt, and
pushed their fellows forward. Somebody jogged Winona's elbow. Her card
slid from her grasp and fell on to the ground. As she bent in the crush
to pick it up, the ruddy-haired girl stooped on a like errand.

"Dropped mine too! Clumsy, isn't it?" she laughed. "Hope we've got our
own! What was your number?"

"I hadn't time to look."

"Well, I'm sure mine was eleven, so that's all right. I wish you luck!
Won't we just be glad when it's over, rather!"

At the further end of the corridor was a door with a notice pinned on to
it. "Examination for County Scholarships." A mistress stood there, and
scrutinized each girl's card as she entered, directing her to a seat in
the room marked with the corresponding number. Winona walked rather
solemnly to the desk labeled 10. The great ordeal was at last about to
begin. She wondered what would be the end of it. Little thrills of
nervousness seemed running down her back like drops from a shower-bath.
Her hands were trembling. With a great effort she pulled herself
together.

"It's no use funking!" she thought. "I'll make as good a shot as I can
at things, and if I fail--well, I shall have plenty of companions in