clock pointed almost to three, they judged it better not to interfere,
and the din continued.

At the stroke of the hour, Margaret Howell strode on to the platform.
She was a tall, fine-looking girl of seventeen, with bright hazel eyes,
regular features, and a thick brown plait that fell below her waist. Her
ready powers of speech, clear ringing voice, brisk decisive tone, and a
certain personal magnetism showed her to be that _rara avis_, a born
leader. It was fortunate indeed for the school that its headship this
year should have fallen to Margaret. The need for a firm but judicious
hand on the reins was great. During the two previous years of the
school's existence the self-government had been in a state of evolution.
For the first year, when everybody was new together, comparatively
little could be done. The school must find itself before it began to
form its private code of laws. In the second year ill-luck had raised to
the post of honor Ivy Chatterton, a clever but most untactful girl,
whose quick temper had brought her into constant collision with her
prefects. Many were the squalls which had swept over the school, of so
serious a nature sometimes as almost to wreck several of the guilds. The
younger girls, following the example of their elders, had quarreled
hotly, and indulged in an incredible amount of petty spite, and
altogether the current tone had been anything but desirable. Miss
Bishop, who had seen, to her sorrow, this downward trend, had welcomed
the advent of Margaret, believing her to have the ability to cope with
difficult situations, and at the same time to have the grit and
self-control not to allow her head to be turned by her elevation to
office.

"You will have a great responsibility: I am giving you unusual power,
and I trust that you will make the highest use of it," she had said to