The Luckiest Girl in the School | Page 5

'un, you'll score later on!" cooed an indulgent
voice from the sofa, where Percy sprawled with a book and a bag of
walnuts. "Remember that when you're still in all the bliss and sparkle of
your teens, Winona'll be a mature and passée person of twenty-two.
'That eldest Miss Woodward's getting on, you know!' people will say,
and somebody'll reply: 'Yes, poor thing!'"
"They won't when I've got a career," retorted Winona, pelting Percy
with his own walnut-shells.
"You assured us the other day that you despised such vanities."
"Well, it depends. Perhaps I'll be a lady tram conductor, and punch
tickets, or a post-woman, or drive a Government van!"
"If those are careers for girls, bag me for a steeple jack," chirped
Dorrie.
It was perhaps a good thing for Winona that such a short interval
elapsed between the acceptance of Aunt Harriet's proposal and the date

of the scholarship examination. The ten days were very busy ones, for
there seemed much to be done in the way of preparation. Miss Jones,
the dressmaker, was installed in the nursery with the sewing-machine,
and demanded frequent tryings-on, a process Winona hated.
"I shall buy all my clothes ready made when I'm grown up!" she
declared.
"They very seldom fit, and have to be altered," returned her mother.
"Do stand still, Winona! And I hope you're learning up a few dates and
facts for this examination. You ought to be studying every morning. If
only Miss Harmon were home, I'd have asked her to coach you. I'm
afraid she'll be disappointed at your leaving, but of course she can't
expect to keep you for ever. I heard a rumor that she means to give up
her school altogether, and go and live with her uncle. I hope it's true,
and then I can take the little ones away with an easy conscience. I don't
want to treat her badly, poor thing, but I'm sure teaching's not her
vocation."
Winona really made a heroic effort to prepare herself for the coming
ordeal. She retired to a secluded part of the garden and read over her
latest school books. The process landed her in the depths of
despondency.
"I'll never remember anything--never!" she mourned to her family. "To
try and get all this into my head at once is like bolting a week's meals at
a single go! I know a date here and there, and I've a hazy notion of
French and Latin verbs, and a general impression of other subjects, but
if they ask me for anything definite, such as the battles of the Wars of
the Roses, or a list of the products of India, I'm done for!"
"Go in for Post-Impressionism, then," suggested Percy. "Write from a
romantic standpoint, and don't condescend to mere facts. Stick in a
quotation or two, and a drawing if possible, and make your paper sound
eloquent and dramatic and poetical, and all the rest of it. They'll mark
you low for accuracy, but put you on ten per cent. for style, you bet! I
know a chap who tries it on at the Coll., and it always pays."

"It's worth thinking about, certainly," said Winona, shutting her books
with a weary yawn.
CHAPTER II
An Entrance Examination
The Seaton High School was a large, handsome brick building exactly
opposite the public park. It had only been erected two years ago, so
everything about it was absolutely new and up-to-date. It supplied a
great need in the rapidly growing city, and indeed offered the best and
most go-ahead education to be obtained in the district.
It was the aim of the school to fit girls for various professions and
careers; there was a classical and a modern side, a department for
domestic economy, and a commercial class for instruction in business
details. Art, music, and nature study were well catered for, and manual
training was not forgotten. As the school was intended to become in
time a center for the county, the Governors had offered two open free
scholarships to be competed for by girls resident in other parts of
Rytonshire, hoping by this means to attract pupils from the country
places round about.
On the morning of September 8th, precisely at 8.35, Winona presented
herself at the school for the scholarship examination. There were
twenty other candidates awaiting the ordeal, in various stages of
nervousness or sangfroid. Some looked dejected, some confident, and
others hid their feelings under a mask of stolidity. Winona joined them
shyly. They were all unknown to one another, and so far nobody had
plucked up courage to venture a remark. It is horribly depressing to sit
on a form staring at twenty taciturn strangers. Winona bore for awhile
with the stony silence, then--rather frightened at the sound of her own