Miss Douglas followed no fixed order in the Form; she called on any girl she wished to translate, choosing from back or front desks with strictest impartiality. As Netta had predicted, the difficult passage fell to her lot. To the surprise of almost the whole Form she came off with flying colours. Though Annie and Millicent had strong suspicions, only Gwen had seen the little piece of paper hidden under Netta's handkerchief. At lunch time she flew out on the subject.
"Look here, Netta," she began grimly, "helping you a little is one thing, but I'm not going to act crib for you again; so just don't think it."
"What do you mean?" gasped Netta sharply.
"What I say. You'd better prepare your own Virgil next time."
"Aren't you going to help me any more?" There was an unpleasant look in Netta's eyes.
"Not when you write it out and crib."
"It was only one scrap. Don't be horrid, Gwen!"
"I like things square, and they've not been quite straight lately. I'm going to put a stop to it, so I give you warning."
"Won't you tell me just the hard bits?"
"Not a single sentence."