So Marjorie read the advertisement aloud:
"'KINGFIELD ARCHÆOLOGICAL SOCIETY
"'The Committee offers first, second, and third prizes to school pupils who shall submit the best essays on the ancient history and associations of the city. Full particulars can be obtained from the Hon. Secretary, Mr. E. Johnson, St. Gilbert's, Thorwald Street.'"
"Hi cockalorum! What an absolutely jinky idea!" rejoiced Calla.
"Ancient history of the city, too! That's quite in our line," purred Lesbia.
"Ra-ther! It might have been specially made for us," triumphed Kathleen.
"It was," fluttered Lizzie Logan's meek little voice.
"What d'you mean, child?" demanded Marjorie. "Here, speak up! We're not going to eat you!"
Lizzie's complexion turned from carnation to damask rose, and deepened into shades of pæony or even beetroot.
"Well, you see," she explained, "my uncle is on the Committee of the Archæological Society, and I was telling him what we do at school on Fridays, and I said I wished there was a prize we could try for, and he said it was worth thinking about, and he'd ask the President, and last night he sent me this paper; so I brought it to show you."
Lizzie finished with a kind of gasp. It was quite a long speech for her to make. Marjorie patted her encouragingly on the back.