"We mustn't mind them," urged Marjorie patiently. "It's really a compliment to us that they're so annoyed. We'll just go on our own way and take no notice. I've invented a beautiful cryptogram. They'll never guess it without the key, if they try for a year."
The code of signals was easily mastered by the society, but they jibbed at the cryptogram.
"It's too difficult, and I really haven't the brains to learn it," said Betty decidedly.
"It's as bad as lessons," wailed Sylvia.
Even Chrissie objected to being obliged to translate notes written in cipher.
"It takes such a long time," she demurred.
"I thought you'd have done it," said Marjorie reproachfully. "I'm afraid you don't care for me as much as you did."
The main difficulty of the society was to find sufficient outlets for its activities. At present, knitting socks seemed the only form of aid which it was possible to render the soldiers. The members decided that they must work harder at this occupation and produce more pairs. Some of them smuggled their knitting into Preparation, with the result that their form work suffered. They bore loss of marks and Miss Duckworth's reproaches with the heroism of martyrs to a cause.
"We couldn't tell her we were fulfilling vows," sighed Marjorie, "though I was rather tempted to ask her which was more important—my Euclid or the feet of some soldier at the front?"
"She wouldn't have understood."