MISS MATFIELD WONDERS

Mattie?" it said. "Come on then. I've got some news.
Very exciting."

This head, which was decorated with a thick shock of
fair hair? horn spectacles, a freckled and turned-up nose,
and a wide and amusing mouth, belonged to Evelyn
Ansdell, who had had a room close to Miss Matfield's
for the last two years, and who was one of the very few
friends she had made at the Burpenfield. She was a
slap-dash, untidy, scatter-brained sort of girl, younger
than Miss Matfield, and though she had all manner of
minor faults, she had the two outstanding virtues of
being good-hearted and extremely entertaining.

The two girls went down to the dining-room together
and were fortunate enough to get a little table to them-
selves. There, amid the chatter and clatter that went
with the mutton stew and the prunes and custard, Miss
Ansdell broke the news, in a series of shrieks and gasps.

"I'm nearly dead," she began, impressively. "No,
really nearly dead. I've been ringing up parents like
mad for the last hour and a half. Don't I sound hoarse?
Honestly, I've been screaming and screaming down the
telephone."

There was nothing novel about this. Miss Matfield
knew all about Evelyn's parents. They were a queer
pair, and had been separated for the last four or five
years. Mrs. Ansdell roamed about the country, some-
times trying her hand at odd things, while Major Ansdell,
no longer in the army but now the representative of
some mysterious imperial organisation, roamed about
the whole world, completely disappearing for months
on end. Now and then, each of them descended upon
London and the Burpenfield, and by some odd chance it
frequently happened that their London visits coincided,