"Precious little, I bet," returned Duane. "I'm in the running for second prize in science, but Salome will take the first. I can't beat her."
"And of course I'm in the running for an English prize again," remarked Hilary. "But one can never be certain."
Margaret declared she would try for a history prize and Bertha for an arithmetic prize, but neither really thought much of their chances of success.
"Lively, isn't it?" said Hilary, reflectively. "We shall have to stir up our juniors a bit if we want anything done."
"They're too busy squabbling amongst themselves," said Duane. "You know they have two rival societies on the go. The Budmushes and the something else—I forget what."
"The P. Squareds, whatever that may mean. Sounds like an algebraic formula. Can't we put an end to it and get them to join forces?"
"Put an end to their blessed societies, you mean?" said Duane. "They wouldn't hear of it. They're free to have as many secret societies as they like, so long as they don't break rules. By the by, there'll be our usual inter-house cricket and tennis matches this term. I shall soon have to see about drawing up our teams."
Another silence. The head prefect appeared on the point of dropping off to sleep, and as nobody seemed to have anything to offer in the way of suggestions or ideas, the girls made their departure in ones and twos. Kitty thought it had been a very feeble, ineffectual affair altogether. After the invigorating atmosphere brought into the room for a few minutes by Paddy, it had seemed very flat and lifeless. Hilary alone had made some attempt to get a definite plan fixed, and she had not succeeded.
Kitty hated the idea of belonging to such a slack house. Couldn't she do something herself? She knew she was a good tennis and cricket player, and later on she would play for all she was worth. But the playing of one girl wouldn't make such a great deal of difference unless well supported. As the week slipped by she turned things over in her mind, until suddenly an idea flashed into it. Of course, they would think it frightful conceit on her part, but she didn't care about that. At least, it would give Carslake's the shock that was necessary to wake up the house from its lethargy....
By the end of the first school week, Kitty was beginning to feel at home. She and Hilary were invariably the first to turn out in the mornings, while the head prefect was equally certain to be the last. Kitty never attempted to repeat her venture of the first morning, leaving it to Hilary to arouse her lackadaisical head prefect. She wondered at first if Duane were aware of the identity of the perpetrator of the outrage, but was not certain until one dinner-time half-way through the week. Dinner that day began with soup. In passing a plateful to the next girl, Kitty's arm was accidentally jolted, the plate tipped up, and a liberal half of its contents poured over the cloth and into the lap of her unfortunate neighbour. The girl gave a loud exclamation, which drew everybody's attention to Kitty's table, and there was a hush in the buzz of talk. In the silence, the voice of the head prefect, with its unmistakable drawl, was heard all over the room.