"Wellington girls play tricks, too, sometimes, but not such mean ones," put in Margaret. "Once a girl cut the electric light wiring during an entertainment in the gym. But even that wasn't so low as this: making a crowd of people go hungry."
"Ah, I see," answered the old gentleman. "Well, that is scarcely to be mentioned in the same breath with cutting wires." He paused a moment and dug into the ground with the end of his cane thoughtfully. "Young ladies," he said presently, "would you do an old Exmoor boy the honor of lunching with him to-day?"
"Oh, how kind!"
"So many of us?"
"It's too much," a dozen voices answered.
"Not at all. There could not be too many of you. I am Major Fern. I live down the road a bit. You can find the house by the big iron gates opening onto the avenue." Major Fern looked at his watch. "It's now a little past twelve. May I expect you at a quarter past one? Mrs. Fern will be delighted. There are—how many of you?"
Margaret told him promptly.
"That's as small as an Exmoor class," he observed. "An unusually small class. But—I've heard of you from Miss Walker—an unusually bright one, I understand. It will be a great pleasure to entertain so many charming young ladies at once."
The girls were almost speechless with surprise and gratitude. Even Margaret was for once reduced to a state of shyness.
"We are very grateful to you, Major Fern," she said, after some hesitation, "and if you are sure it is not too much of an imposition, we accept with pleasure."